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This is the foreword introduction to my autobiography “Go Tell It To The Rock”.

Picture circa Winter 1969 outside Brooklyn, NY Old Bartons,
Candy factory. Dekalb Av & Hudson St.

Instead of the usual placing a book and hawking it on Amazon, I thought it would be more intimate here on our website Ikohaus. 

The style of the book, will be as an ongoing blog, but rather more in book style. Each submission can be followed by our regular readers, and given away freely in true Avant-garde artist tradition, but with a twist, for me to proceed with installments to the book, a patron will need to emerge and purchase one of my works.


As a young child walking with my mother one hot sunny day that I’ll never forget, I could hear the drone of a large propeller plane overhead. I looked up to the bright sun in the sky, trying to find the plane. For a brief moment I caught a glimpse of the plane, and a feeling of wanting to know what my future would hold came over my young mind.

I tried to communicate with God, believing He was in the sky. The communing gave me the experience that He was undoubtedly there, but would not reveal a single fact that I could glean from my present or future to be. Still I walked on happily feeling that all too soon, the tasks He had in store for me would be revealed.

This book is for the World and my family, whom although not always fully understanding me, had influence over my makeup ( I will use first names only for their anonymity ): Grandfather – Lucien, Stanley, Grandmother – Nina, Momsie, Uncles – Sonny, George, Herbie, Albert, Aunts – Beryle RIP, Linda, Wayple, Shirley, the cousins – Rodney, Adisa, Roxanne, Donna, Diane, Peggy, Linda, Yvvone & Darren.

Most of all I dedicate this book to my Parents, Mom and Dad, Ruby and Carlos, my Sister Lita all RIP and holding that special space in my heart the niece I helped raise some from birth Kim.

For the next installment to be released, Patrons will be able to purchase a limited edition of one hundred, 8 1/2″ X 11″ signed and thumb printed on heavy stock weight paper of the cover. 

Limited  single edition signed/thumbprinted Giclee’s
heavy weight paper
of Romero’s cover
“Go Tell It To The Rock”
$50USD free USPS Priority Mail Delivery
[wp_cart_button name=”Go Tell It To The Rock” price=”50.00″]



Belief is the ultimate form of our reality. I believe as an avant-garde artist, Romero, that I am one of the greatest artists to come along for the new 21st Century so therefore with no over confidence I simply am. Art must be re-invented, the farthest reaches explored and tested for the new and innovative.
When I retell portions of the story of my life, many listeners would exclaim, wow. 
We stepped into the elevator of our building, 1175, my mother and I, on the 14th floor where we lived. It was in the summer time of 1956, and I was four years old, soon to enter kindergarten, about to be five in October.
I was startled to find two women talking already

in the elevator as the inner door slid open as we entered. Thinking to my self, we must have pressed the button to call the elevator up just as they entered and before they had a chance to press the first floor button. 

These kind of strange things, stimulated my mind as the drone of their conversation started to bubble to the surface of my awareness as I stood shyly by my mother and looking slowly up to see who the two women were. They both nodded contritely, hello to mother as they gazed downwards at me. 
The conversation seemed to be about a man that one of them had a relationship with, that was probably cheating on the woman or in my young mind just doing her completely wrong. I listened intently as they talked, as the one exclaimed to the other, “Girl I don’t know whatever should I do?”
After listening for a while, I decided to interject, “Why don’t you just not go back to him?” The two women jaws agape were completely startled at my pronouncement. Obviously I may have answered the question most honestly and objectively, not having yet been practiced in the adult ways of listening and replying with conversation that people want to hear. 
I thought in fear as they turned first towards me

and then my mother, that things could turn violent. But after encountering their eyes I saw a look in both of them, of desperation and then one just blurted out, “Why, wherever did you get him from!!!???” as the other nodded in agreement. My mother never replied and just met their gaze, from that point (about the 7th floor) we just rode down the rest of the way in a hot enclosed, almost unbearable silence.

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