A Phoenix from the Quarantine

I believe we attract what we seek, which is why the feigned struggle for white America to find Black excellence deeply annoys me. It’s a slovenly stance—one I see often as a Black climber. Outdoor companies bemoan not knowing of any Black adventure enthusiasts in the way I imagine news outlets scramble to highlight Black business owners, or how galleries might wring their hands searching for Black artists. ‘We just don’t know where to look,’ they cry to the heavens, scanning homogenized spaces with whiteness blinders on. ‘It’s just so hard to find Black people that (insert literally anything interesting here).’ And sadly, the truth is at one point, I also believed that lie—even as a Black artist myself; racism taught me my otherness, but whiteness taught me exceptionalism. Whiteness claims intelligence & creativity as unique to itself, and that not only was my existence an anomaly but that I would certainly never find more Black people like me.

Then 2020 hit. I was starved of human connection, and also gravely reminded of the dangers my skin color comes with. This shock to my system led me to search for Black creatives—a task deemed nigh impossible by my country, but I was determined to be successful. So I embarked on the ever-difficult task…of typing keywords into a search bar, and when my aching hands pressed “Enter,” I achieved the unthinkable: I found Black excellence—and a LOT of it. What’s even crazier (white America, write this down), when I reached out to them with genuine intentions, they not only reached back, but they gave me even more opportunities for connection! I admittedly was shocked at the abundance, and I was also kicking myself for not taking the red pill sooner—for accepting the lies I was fed.

Amidst mining this vein of Black gold, I came across Marian Bailey: a self-proclaimed “self-taught visual artist” whose work elicits a striking vibrance that I’m pretty sure only a Black person’s work could. From large public murals to graphics on a beer can, their work was very much alive with strong expression. Sure enough, upon further digging, her website bio echoed that intent: one sentence read, “I love to infuse everything around me with as much color and light as possible.” And as you’ll learn from reading about my conversations with Marian, my soul is one of those things they managed to infuse with color and light, by spinning a yarn of self-discovery that echoed my own, and teaching me that I’m not as alone as I was made to believe.

When I find someone as impressive as Marian, I often try to find things I have in common with them—markers that I too, might become impressive one day. Probably the first ‘marker’ that grabbed my attention when reading Marian’s website was the phrase “self-taught artist.” My own journey as a self-taught artist was that of a late bloomer, which I use as evidence for my impostor syndrome…but one of the first things our conversation did was validate that journey. “I didn’t go to school for art,” she told me. “I went to school for biology and clinical research, which is completely on the other side of the spectrum. I fell into that trap of thinking that artistry and creativity is something that can’t sustain you financially…[and] I wanted to make sure I was able to take care of myself.”

For Marian, this belief eventually hit a boiling point. “I just couldn’t run away from it anymore. I’ve always spent time making little pieces here and there. I say that I’ve been an artist since I was a child because I was always making stuff…and within the last few years, I was like ‘okay, I’m going to actually buckle down and try to put myself out there more — make more art, and just see what happens.’ I had my first art show a few years ago, and since then, things have been lining up.” 

When she says “things have been lining up,” that’s no joke; if anything, it’s an understatement. Her list of accomplishments in just a few years was astonishing in both depth and breadth. “I painted multiple murals, I did some public art, I did an illustration for a book series that’s [constantly] on the NY Times Bestseller List, I was able to illustrate the cover for a book…” the list went on, and lot of it came to fruition last year, which would perhaps seem counterintuitive if I weren’t also an artist. I know the greatest works are often born in the greatest strife, and Marian agreed. “Last year was one of my best years creatively, despite all the shit that’s been going on,” she told me. “We’re still living in a pandemic, there’s a lot of social unrest…even though that’s always been a part of my life, so many more people are tapping in and acknowledging it. It was just a very strange position to be in — where you’re seeing so many people experiencing a lot of hardships.”

That sentiment is one I’ve heard expressed by multiple Black business owners this past year — the idea that it’s strange to thrive in trying times, to spread one’s fiery wings like a phoenix rising from the quarantine. While I understand where it comes from, I can’t help but feel sad when I hear a Black creative or business owner express this in 2021. For even in times where we are most endangered, when we most need the connection to our creative wells and when we absolutely must fill our own cups, we still suffer from emotional survivor’s guilt, an odd obligation to our blood memories of darkness & silence. I understand these bondages all too well, but to see them acknowledged and then cast off by someone I found so inspiring showed me the importance of letting our light shine—especially in the darkness of our world as Black people. After all, "shine" is what we do.

Marian is certainly no stranger to letting their light shine—not just in her art, but in the climbing world as well. She helped forge a coalition of POC climbers in Philadelphia—one that would not just serve as a safe space for Black & brown climbers, but also eventually be contracted by the local gyms, in an effort to create more welcoming inclusive climbing spaces. For those who don’t know how whitewashed climbing is, let’s just say this is like, some Nobel-Prize-level shit. Minorities in the outdoors are scarce for many historic reasons, and there is also an en-masse resistance to diversity, so groups like Marian’s often fight tooth and nail to simply exist, much less secure a seat at the table. Marian noted in our talk that such strides required the support of the gyms, but I’d be remiss to not point out the sheer drive it must’ve taken to see it through...and all the while painting dope-ass murals? TELL me that’s not Black excellence.

Speaking of excellence, another lesson I learned from Marian was that excellence is not perfection, but fully being where you are. While I marveled at her accomplishments, she was quick to tell me that not everything was planned out and that some commissions took growth on their part. They recalled having to learn how to use Adobe Illustrator for a commission—after already taking the job. “You kind of just have to go with the flow and tell people ‘yes,’ and then figure it out.” While this sounds wholly terrifying to me, it did make me think about how I often spend so much time trying to make my art 'perfect' that I grow beyond the piece before it's complete. Marian seems to be on the opposite side of that spectrum; she takes on endeavors with the intent of growing into them, and when said endeavors are complete, she’s not only created something beautiful, but she’s also come closer to the artist she wants to be. It’s a lesson that transcends art and speaks to life at large, but then again, life imitates art and vice versa. I think it’s no coincidence these lessons from art are often lost upon Western culture; artistry is often treated as an afterthought. “In the great-ol' US-of-A, they don’t really see creative things as being a priority, despite the fact that art is literally in everything,” Marian remarked. “You look around, and it’s everywhere.”

If what Marian says is true—that art is everywhere—then it’s not a stretch to believe that Black art is also everywhere. This begs the question: does America truly want to find Black art? Or is it perhaps afraid to find it, because it would not only invalidate its feigned ignorance but also send a shatter point splintering through the crystallized construct of white supremacy?

I can never truly know the answer to whether white America will ever see Black excellence. But if this past year has taught me anything, it’s that I’ve allowed that question to weigh me down and hold me back. These albatrosses show up in my self-talk, in judgmental friends & family, and in systemic racism…and while quarantine gave me the space to cast aside those burdens, I also picked up a sense of guilt for thriving amidst so much suffering. But, Marian showed me I was not the only one who felt this way, while also reframing things for me. “2020 allowed me to learn a lot about my own creative process,” she said when we first met. “It allowed me to really hone in on the things I like to do. It was just a lot of opportunities that presented themselves in spite of this really terrible time that was going on.”

It was that last sentence—that contradiction of possibility floating in the void like stars in a night sky—which showed me my guilt was misplaced, and truly illuminated the law of attraction for me. I (and so many other Black creatives) are not ignoring these tragedies, but instead surfing through them, in search of our creative celestial bodies. Marian is living proof of this: a self-taught artist who mapped a strong vision, which carried them to opportunity after opportunity, job after job…all while being Black in America during a pandemic, social uprising, and tumultuous election. This is not a cause for sorrow, but celebration, for it a testament that in this terrible and beautiful world, the magnetic qualities of our humanity seek out that which means the most to us and our destiny.

But nah, you right, white America...I can’t seem to find Black artists anywhere, either. It’s so hard.

Until this pandemic subsides, I hope to continue finding Black creativity for which to sing my praises from virtual rooftops and to shape the melody by which I'll engineer my own artistic rebirth. Meeting people like Marian is amazing not only because of the art I experience but the lessons I learn and the friendships I forge. Ultimately, I think this story can all be boiled down into two things, which I will carry into my 30’s:

1) keep searching for Black excellence, and

2) keep being Black excellence.

You can find Marian’s art here, and you can also reach out to them on social media.