I didn’t grow up going to art museums, and I remember when I did see art, it was just never reflective of me. I love that today, and particularly in your work, these little Black kids are going to grow up and completely see themselves.
Yes, it’s incredibly rewarding to see children interact with my art. I had the opportunity to witness this firsthand during the pandemic at a soft opening at the François Ghebaly Gallery in L.A. Kids came through, and while I was protective of the pieces and wouldn’t let adults touch them, I secretly encouraged the children to engage with the paintings directly. It was important for me to allow them that tactile experience, to connect with the art on a personal level.
Witnessing their interaction is truly meaningful. It reinforces my belief that art should be a mirror, reflecting the diverse experiences of individuals. When children, especially Black children, see themselves represented in art, it’s empowering. It allows them to envision their own potential and realize they can aspire to be anything they dream of – an artist, a leader, anything at all. Seeing themselves in a positive and creative light is incredibly reassuring and validates their place in the world.
I imagine that our readers may want to hear a little bit more about your choice to not paint faces. I’m wondering if you would share more about that?
Absolutely! My journey into art, and specifically my decision to omit facial features, began at the Perpich Center for Arts Education in Minnesota. This specialized high school offered a fantastic range of programs, from performing to visual arts. In my junior year, we were introduced to various visual art mediums, and in my senior year, we chose a focus. I opted for drawing and sculpture, but I felt somewhat lost with the medium itself, particularly painting. Oil paints seemed inaccessible and expensive, creating a barrier for me.
Then, a visiting studio teacher, Megan Rye, introduced a project: creating 30 small paintings in three weeks. Initially, it seemed impossible! But these were intimate five by seven-inch pieces intended for a benefit supporting the houseless community in the Twin Cities. These $30 paintings would provide a night’s shelter, necessities, and food for someone in need. This deeply resonated with me, and still does. I remain involved with the Art4Shelter committee, continuing this impactful work.
At that time, truthfully, I hadn’t yet mastered painting faces. It was something I yearned to do. I was confident in my realistic charcoal and graphite drawings, but paint felt like a completely different language. I struggled with the basics – cleaning brushes, mixing colors without them becoming muddy. It was a frustrating learning curve.
In our class of around twelve students, we would regularly present our ten paintings each week for critique and discussion. The environment was incredibly supportive and kind. We built each other up, never tearing anyone down. One of my early critiques, from Megan Rye and Karen Monson, our studio arts teachers, was pivotal. They expressed genuine appreciation for my work. Megan specifically said, “Continue with this style; it’s uniquely you. It’s beautiful. Even without distinct features, there’s something angelic and refreshingly unique about it.”
I was on the verge of tears in class, but not from sadness. I lacked confidence in my work because I aspired to paint realistically like my peers, to replicate photographs in paint. I simply couldn’t achieve that level of realism with paint at that stage. Hearing Megan’s words at that crucial time was incredibly meaningful and transformative. Their belief in my artistic direction gave me the confidence to persevere. I owe a great deal of gratitude to Karen and Megan for instilling that belief in me. Without the Perpich Center and their encouragement, I truly don’t know where I would be today. Their faith in me, when I doubted myself, was invaluable, and I am incredibly fortunate to still have them as mentors and inspirations in my life. This journey truly emphasizes that art, at its heart, is often a family affair – a supportive community that nurtures and encourages individual expression.
