For years, Black artists have been pushed down this rabbit hole of prejudice into the wonderland of uncertainty. Uncertainty toward the validity of their worth and talent as well as of the prosperity of their work. However, these Black artists that were kicked out of these spaces were the same ones who pioneered creative spaces to what they are today. They are now reclaiming industries such as visual and performing arts. Conquering them, and then rebuilding the foundations of equity, equality and authentic masterpieces of art. Taking what we see and transforming into provocative, unorthodox freedom education.
When you hear the name Kaylah Dixon, nothing should happen. That is until you take a look at their photographic work and realize the sheer evocative power they hold. Taking the bounds of race, gender and sexual identity into their hands, they mold a multifaceted expedition into a world of true creative freedom. A plethora of works ranging from photography and writing, to drawing and collaging, Dixon transforms versatility into a superpower.
“I think something that really helped me realize that I wasn’t an average photographer was that I play many different mediums of art,” Dixon explains. “I like to put those two together, photography and abstract art.”
Dixon elaborated on their approach to art making.
“I think what I’m doing to transcend photography as a medium is using myself as subject. It’s not something new. Artistically, everything is inspired by something else. That is an art in itself. Even if I’m doing something that is inspired by something else, it is my own. I’m using myself as a form of research and self identification.”
Dixon’s first interaction with a camera destroyed the bounds of their potential, while the spirit of other photographers showed Dixon what to do with all that freedom. Photographers such as Robert Mapplethorpe, Sally Mann, Minor White and Gutter Stall have all helped Dixon conjure something that was hidden before. It was ultimately Dixon’s grandfather, who was not only a soldier but a photographer himself, that they saw a piece of themselves in.
He evoked the essence of an undiagnosed photojournalist by capturing moments in war, the way people were affected by it and how his own life has morphed into this experimentation with film photography art. It became a sort of therapy for him to change circumstances into moments of beguiling mystery that spoke to viewers in a way that made them experience similar emotions. Being gifted their grandfather’s first camera he used in high school, Dixon credits him with not only seeing photography, but grasping the true kaleidoscopic nature of it for both of them.
“I take self portraits and documentary series of other people in my life: muses, lovers, friends. I want to document my life, just like my grandfather,” Dixon said.
“I realized, through my grandfather, that photography is a form of therapy for me. It’s not something that I necessarily want to do for the rest of my life, making money. I crave the process. Taking that film canister out of the camera, going into a dark room, and dodging and burning images. As well as having to set the tone of the image. You’re developing it, fixing it, washing it and processing it to make the image that you want at the end.
As an artist, Dixon feels as if that simply just making money off of one’s work and receiving temporary adoration is not fulfilling enough. To an extent it releases individuality into oblivion.
Although Dixon is in their own lane, where are the other Black artists that share similar sentiments?
Black art has only now started to enamor the gatekeepers of the mainstream in the last five years.
“I think there’s something to be said about people of color being in the arts today that’s changing. I think there are a lot of platforms that have popped up in the last four to five years. We are finally being recognized as the pioneers of a lot of things that non-POC’s have become famous for. They would become glorified for these works, but really they were just appropriations of African American art.”
These spaces that are just now being created have always been there for Black/POC artists, but only have been curated by black establishments. It was only in 1966 that brothers Alonzo and Dale Davis opened up The Brockman Gallery where artists of color John Outterbridge, Betye Saar and Noah Purifoy could show and sell their art.
These creatives were the blueprint for artists such as Amy Sherald and Kehinde Wiley, portrait painters for former President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama, to not only be accepted, but conquer and redefine the meaning of representation and art as we know it.
However, when you tack on being bi-racial, non-binary and queer, standing strong in your work becomes lonely and exhausting. There lies a conversation deeper than just racial prejudice. The intersections of colorism, sexism and queerphobia create even more pressure that can weigh down an artist of color’s confidence in their work.
“As a POC woman in the arts, one it is a male dominated community. I think that working with men that see specifically women of color, we’re seen as exotic. As if ‘oh, you have a story to tell,’ as if we’re looked at as fragile. It’s almost like people of color are seen as fragile to the point that they are broken.”
Dixon still fights though. They still try to take seats and even add seats at tables that most don’t want there. Regardless of how strong they may seem, there are days where that battle of will all of this be worth it rings through their mind.
As we ended our conversation of individuality and representation, Dixon had this encouragement to share with their fellow black/poc artists: “I would let young, up and coming Black/POC artists know that what they experience is enough to be shared. It’s enough to share to the world or whomever you want to share it with. […] Just continue to do what you do. Even if that means taking one picture or writing down one letter a day. Just do it. Don’t think sharing is the most important part. However, explore it with yourself.”
Words by Kyle Harris
Photos by Kaylah Dixon
Talent by Kaylah Dixon