Women in the Arts

Whether she’s building training pathways for young dancers or crafting performances that invite reflection and dialogue, LaTeisha Melvin approaches choreography as a collective experience. Through founding initiatives like MUVE|MEANTS and leading theEnsemble Dance Collective, she bridges rigorous training with expressive inquiry, creating spaces where dancers are strengthened both technically and emotionally. In the conversation, she explores how Baltimore’s artistic landscape informs her values, why collaboration sits at the center of her creative process, and why she decided to participate in SheROCKS again.

Q: When did you first recognize dance was your primary path as an artist?

LaTeisha Melvin: Dance has always been a part of my life. I began dancing in the church, where I discovered a love for movement at a very young age, and it simply stayed with me. As my training deepened at the Baltimore School for the Arts, I realized dance was more than a passion. It was a path I wanted to commit to long term. Those experiences confirmed that movement was not just something I enjoyed, but the foundation of who I am as an artist.

Q: You’re known for technical precision and the emotional depth of your choreography. What does your creative process look like when planning a performance?

LaTeisha Melvin: My creative process is deeply collaborative. It often begins with sound or texture that I feel an immediate connection to, which then becomes the catalyst for movement. As the concept starts to take shape, I bring the work into the studio with my company, theEnsemble—using them as a vessel to expand, question, and deepen the material. The movement becomes a fusion of my choreographic voice and the lived experiences the dancers bring into the space. That exchange is what gives the work its emotional depth. As each artist contributes a distinct perspective and movement quality, that shapes the piece into a fully realized performance.

Q: How has the city of Baltimore shaped you as both an artist and a community-centered collaborator for other dancers?

LaTeisha Melvin: Baltimore is home. It’s where my foundation was built and where I intend to continue growing and contributing to the city’s arts scene. The diversity of Baltimore has deeply influenced the work I create. Being surrounded by artists of different backgrounds, artforms, and perspectives constantly shapes my voice. The city’s openness and willingness to pour into the community has taught me the importance of collaboration, shared resources, and creating space for others. That sense of collective care and creativity is at the core of how I move as both an artist and a community-centered collaborator.

Q: As an instructor, you emphasize both individual growth and collective artistry. How do you design learning spaces that make dancers feel both challenged and supported?

LaTeisha Melvin: As an instructor, I believe in creating learning spaces that both educate and engage. I intentionally design my classes to meet dancers where they are creatively and technically so they feel seen while still being challenged to grow. Teaching across various studios has allowed me to build inclusive environments that honor different learning styles, bodies, and artistic voices. I place a strong emphasis on conditioning and strengthening the body, believing that a solid foundation is essential for longevity. By balancing technical rigor with encouragement and care, I aim to foster spaces where dancers feel supported, empowered, and invested in contributing to the collective artistry of the room.

Q: You founded MUVE|MEANTS during the pandemic to train young artists. What gaps were you seeing in dance education that inspired you to create this platform?

LaTeisha Melvin: During the pandemic, much of my students’ training came to a sudden halt, which was especially challenging for those preparing for collegiate or professional paths. Many of the studios I worked with shut down, leaving dancers searching for a new sense of home and consistency. Unlike many other art forms, dance requires ongoing rigor to maintain technique, strength, and tone. Recognizing this gap, I used Zoom to stay connected with students and continue supporting their training during an uncertain time. As word spread about my approach and emphasis on strength building,  what started as a temporary solution evolved into MUVE|MEANTS, a platform designed to provide continuity, access, and high-level training. Today, it  has served more than 10 studios and over 50 students, filling a critical gap in dance education in the DMV area and reinforcing the importance of sustained, accessible instruction.

Q:  theEnsemble Dance Collective highlights fusion, diversity, and community. How is this different from MuveMeants and what conversations do you hope audiences are having after witnessing your work with the collective?

LaTeisha Melvin: MUVE|MEANTS and theEnsemble Dance Collective serve two very different, yet complementary, purposes in my work. MUVE|MEANTS is strictly a training-based service, focused on one-on-one coaching, audition preparation, and guest teaching, with an emphasis on building strong, sustainable technique. In contrast, theEnsemble Dance Collective is a community of freelance artists brought together to perform work rooted in a shared experience. Through the collective, I am less focused on instruction and more invested in dialogue—using performance as a way to explore identity, connection, and the human experience.

Q: Is there a moment or performance that felt especially transformative for you or your dancers?

LaTeisha Melvin: One of the most transformative performances for me to date is my senior capstone, Better | Left, choreographed in 2015. I created the work after sustaining an injury during my junior year that forced me to take a semester off and return later, ultimately graduating behind my original class. The piece held both the physical and emotional weight of that experience of navigating recovery, isolation, and the uncertainty of returning to my body and my craft in the same way.

Looking back, the work feels almost prophetic. It mirrored a sense of collective pause and isolation that we would all experience less than five years later. I often think about how the duality of time has a way of revealing purpose—how moments of stillness and struggle can later gain new meaning. That introspection continues to live in my work, inviting both my dancers and audiences to reflect, sit with complexity, and find connection within vulnerability.

Rapid Fire: Improv or choreography with a sunrise rehearsal or late-night creation session? (You can only pick one each.)

LaTeisha Melvin: Late Night - Choreography session

Q:: You're a SheROCKS alumni artist. What made you resubmit to be a part of the showcase again and what are you most excited to share with the audience this time through dance?

LaTeisha Melvin: Once I saw that SheROCKS was happening again, I knew it was something I wanted to be a part of. The showcase is intentional, inclusive, and truly woman-centered, which made the experience feel both affirming and empowering the first time around. I built meaningful connections and had the opportunity to present my work to a broader audience than I typically reach.

Returning to the showcase feels like a continuation of that dialogue. This time, I’m most excited to share work that reflects my growth both artistically and personally, and to offer the audience a deeper, more layered experience through movement and to support the celebration of women’s voices.

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AINAE’s music feels lived-in—shaped by many homes, many sounds, and many ways of seeing the world. Growing up in a family where cultures, languages, and creative practices overlapped, she learned early that music could hold history, longing, and imagination all at once. That foundation still guides her today, from the joy-driven curiosity of her earliest songwriting to the reflective depth of her latest work.

Q: You can hear the influence of your Ethiopian, Black American, and Caribbean heritage in your sound. How has heritage helped you shape your artistry?

AINAE: My upbringing has a huge hand in the sounds I love and the perspectives I bring to my music. Coming from a family of immigrants, my approach to chasing dreams is different. My family is a real melting pot—American, Ethiopian, Crucian, Danish, and probably a few more! I always lived at the intersection. I grew up going to Mariam [the Ethiopian church], until I was about 10. I would just soak in the music. My mom and I would drive home from school listening to Jasmine Sullivan, Justin Timberlake, and Amy Winehouse on repeat, singing every line. At home, my dad was recording rappers and singers from the neighborhood in our basement studio, and my grandma had me serving tables at her jazz club, Twins Jazz. Music and literature were always part of my world, and that shaped how I see life and create. My music reflects all the journeys I’ve been on and the dreams I’ve witnessed in the people around me.

Q: You started writing songs at age eight. When you look back at that younger version of yourself, what parts of her still guide your creative process today?

AINAE: That little girl still shows up every time I start something new. The rush of excitement, that “omg, we have something!” feeling. She brings pure joy and curiosity. Over the years, my process has changed a lot. I used to chase perfection but now I let myself create without judgment, at least in the early stages. That inner child keeps it fun and reminds me why I started.

Q: “Looking Glass” is your newest EP. What themes or truths were you exploring while creating this project?

AINAE: I recently released “Looking Glass” in October, and it holds a special place in my heart. It was created partially in DC and Atlanta, but most of it came to life during nine months in Norway. making music every single day. I really shed layers and got to the root of who I am. The project explores love in its purest, most naive form. The rose-colored glasses. The romantic-comedy version of falling in love. It’s the moment before reality sets in, before you realize love takes work, not just infatuation.

Q: You’ve had electric moments on big stages from The Voice to SXSW to AFRAM with Patti LaBelle. Which moment challenged you the most, and what did you take from it?

AINAE: The Voice was definitely an eye-opening experience. It felt like a stamp of approval at a time when I was questioning if music was really for me. Being on Kelly Clarkson’s team was surreal...so many “pinch me” moments. But more than anything, it challenged me to take up space and be disciplined. It made me realize no dream is too big. If I could do that, I could do anything.

Q: Your lyrics are very introspective. What’s something you’ve recently learned about yourself that found its way into your music?

AINAE: I’ve realized that when it comes to love, I’m still a bit naive and afraid. Afraid of conflict and of repeating the patterns I saw growing up. “Looking Glass” is about that naivety, before I understood love as a verb, not just a feeling or a fantasy from movies.

Q: Your single “Weekend Lover” has built steady momentum. What does its success mean to you at this stage in your career?

AINAE: My idea of success has really shifted. Every year I set new goals, and I feel blessed to have performed at SXSW and to open up for artists that I've looked up to. I’m proud to consistently release music and have fun with the process- that’s what I love most.

Q: As someone inspired by Jamiroquai, Erykah Badu, and Lauryn Hill, how have  those artists influenced you to create something distinctly “Ainae”?

AINAE: All those artists are unapologetically themselves, blending unconventional sounds into classics. I love lyricists. Wordplay and double meanings always get me. I’ve enjoyed putting on my producer hat, experimenting with weird sounds and different perspectives, just like they do.

Q: You sold out Union Stage in D.C.. How has the D.C. music community helped shape the artist you’ve become?

AINAE: DC is home! It’s seen every side of me, every version of my artistry. I’ve been lucky to have so much support from the DMV. I built my confidence here and found the freedom to try new things. DC loves live music, and it’s been fun testing out new material and seeing what clicks.

Rapid Fire: A song you wish you wrote — go!

AINAE: “Moving Out” by Billy Joel.

Q: What are you most excited for audiences to experience when you take the SheROCKS stage at the March 2026 showcase?

AINAE: I am most excited for the audience to smile and have a good time with me! I think there's a pure joy in sharing vulnerability and dancing at the same time, so I hope that can be felt on stage and in every listening ear.

Camille’s music doesn’t rush, it lingers. She opens up about the personal reinvention behind her upcoming project Liminal, the courage it took to step outside industry expectations, and what it means to build a creative world that feels true to her.

‍Q: Your music lives in that space between the intimate and the expansive. What draws you to the idea of liminality, and how does it shape the world you create sonically?

Camille: I’m drawn to the moments where life feels in-between, when you’re not who you were, but not yet who you’re becoming. Musically, I love creating spaces that feel like you’re floating in that space: close, warm, but reaching toward something.

Q: As you work on your forthcoming project, “Liminal," what personal experiences or transitions are influencing this project the most?

Camille: “Liminal” comes from a period of reinvention, stepping away from industry expectations, leaving old versions of myself behind, and learning to trust my instincts as an artist.

Q: Your production style feels warm and dreamlike. What textures or sounds do you instinctively reach for when you’re building that atmosphere?

Camille: I gravitate toward soft synth pads, breathy vocals, and gentle strings. I like sounds that feel like they’re glowing, slightly blurry at the edges.

‍Q: There’s a cinematic quality to your aesthetic as an artist. If your new music were a film, what would the opening scene feel like?

Camille: A slow sunrise over an empty city street, quiet, gold, and full of possibility!

Q: Emotion and introspection are central to your writing. How do you balance vulnerability with artistry when sharing such internal moments?

Camille: My goal with my music is to share just enough to let someone see themselves in the song. The honesty is real, but I frame it in a way that leaves space for the listener to breathe.

Q: As a musician rooted in Los Angeles, how has the city — its pace, its beauty, its chaos — shaped the evolution of your sound?

Camille: LA is a city of contrast: softness inside noise, calm inside ambition. That tension really inspires my music, dreamy, but grounded.

Q: Your music often evokes a sense of becoming. What does transformation mean to you at this stage in your creative journey?

Camille: Transformation means choosing myself, not the safe version, but the true one. It’s trusting my ideas, even when they don’t fit anyone else’s template.

Q: Is this new project a transition into a fresh era for you? What have you discovered about yourself while making “Liminal”?

Camille: Yes, it’s my first era of creating music made entirely for me. I’ve discovered that my voice, both literally and artistically, is stronger when I stop trying to belong and instead create the world I want to live in.

Rooted in her upbringing in Maryland and a city-centered lifestyle, her work challenges narrow perceptions of urban environments, highlighting them as sites of creativity, movement, and possibility. As an emerging artist with a growing exhibition history, Tori reflects on finding confidence in her voice, learning from Black artists who came before her, and trusting experimentation as a core part of her process.

Q: What first drew you to the inner workings of the mind as a visual artist?

Tori: My first time working exploring the inner workings of the mind started when developing my AP portfolio in high school. My thesis was [about] how mental health affects artists and how they work.

Q: How do you decide which medium, or combination of mediums best brings a concept to life?

Tori: I feel like there is no singular medium that can do that. Only multiple mediums can achieve that, [bringing a concept to life].

Q: Growing up in Maryland and living a city-centered lifestyle, how does your environment shape the stories you want to tell visually?

Tori: Everyday where I live there are stories to tell. No day is the same and I don’t want it to be. Living in a city gives you constant room for inspiration to enter.

Q: You’ve shared your art “aims to bring light to people from urban backgrounds.” What narratives or experiences do you hope viewers see reflected in your pieces?

Tori: I hope that viewers can see that urban places aren’t as bad as they may seem or look on the outside. Urban backgrounds push for creativity and give you a creative outlet.

Q: You recently had your first solo exhibition showcasing your college portfolio. What did that milestone teach you about your voice as an artist?\

Tori: It taught me that being an artist is a passion and that it doesn’t matter what stage of your life you're in, you can inspire those older than you.

Q: What’s a medium or technique you’ve tested recently that surprised you?

Tori: The most recent medium that surprised me was using oil pastels and testing the limits of that.

Q: How do you balance scientific inspiration with emotional storytelling in your art?

Tori: In the past, my work focused more on mental health but as time goes on,  I’ve focused more on human emotions and how that processes through the brain. I find it interesting to focus on a topic that is not really explored.

Q: As a college student, how has your academic journey expanded your understanding or approach to your craft?

Tori: During my academic journey I have learned more about African American art history and the periods of time in art. From this, it’s inspired me to be like the artists before me and make a way for myself.

Rapid Fire: What’s the one art tool or app you can’t go a day without using?

Tori: An app that I cannot go a day without using is Pinterest. Pinterest is filled with ideas and inspiration from all over the world.

Q: As you prepare for the March 2026 SheROCKS event, what part of presenting your work _{excites you the most?}

Tori: The part that excites me the most is having more exposure towards my work and being able to be inspired by other artists as well.

Avanna Duff reflects on Girlhood, a deeply personal body of work shaped by loss, self-inquiry, and the ongoing process of becoming. After losing her mother at 19, Avanna found herself suspended in emotional limbo, navigating early adulthood while searching for clarity, purpose, and identity. Through abstraction, she revisits her girlhood as both a site of healing and reclamation, using layered forms and intuitive gestures to explore identity as fluid, non-linear, and ever-evolving.

Q: Your most recent project “Girlhood” traces the inner shifts that shape womanhood. What was the first spark or moment that made you realize this was the story you needed to tell now?

Avanna: "Girlhood" represents a transformative journey of self-discovery and introspection, marking a turning point in my life. The sudden loss of my mother at 19 left a profound impact, causing me to feel stuck in a state of emotional limbo. As I navigate my early twenties, I've grappled with the challenge of rediscovering my identity and redefining my life's trajectory. Through revisiting my girlhood, I've been able to reconnect with my inner self, confronting the confusion and disillusionment that followed adolescence. This exploration has become a cathartic release, allowing me to reclaim my narrative and envision the woman I aspire to be. "Girlhood" is an invitation for others, particularly Black women, to reflect on their own stories, reclaim their voices, and embody their true selves.

Q: How did creating “Girlhood” challenge or expand the way you think about identity formation?

Avanna: For me, identity is a multifaceted construct shaped by internal reflections and external experiences, rendering it a dynamic and ever-evolving concept. Through my artistic practice, I've come to understand that identity formation is a non-linear, continuous process, with layers of meaning waiting to be uncovered. Unlike representational art, which can be readily understood, through abstraction my approach invites viewers to engage with the work on multiple levels, revealing new insights and perspectives. This layered narrative allows for a deeper exploration of the self, acknowledging that identity is a complex, ongoing conversation.

Q: This series speaks to the turbulence and beauty of becoming. Which piece in the, "Girlhood" collection feels the most personal to you, and why?

Avanna: A Tale Between Two Cities' is the piece that feels most personal to me in the 'Girlhood' collection. This work represents a pivotal chapter in my journey of self-discovery and artistic growth, capturing the turbulence and beauty of becoming. The decision to leave Atlanta and pursue my education in Buffalo, New York, was a deliberate choice to challenge myself and cultivate inner peace. Through this experience, I navigated the complexities of independence, confronting the pressures of solitude and the process of self-discovery.

This piece is a testament to the resilience and adaptability that have defined my path, as I strive to embody the best version of myself, both as an artist and an individual. It's a reflection of my journey, with all its triumphs and struggles, and serves as a reminder that becoming is a continuous process, often accompanied by uncertainty and self-doubt.

Q: You’ve shown work in celebrated spaces from Atlanta to New York. How have those artistic communities influenced your evolution as an artist?

Avanna: The artistic communities I've had the privilege of being a part of, from Atlanta to New York, have been instrumental in shaping my growth as an artist. Specifically, my time in Buffalo and Atlanta has been transformative. Buffalo taught me the value of community and the importance of connection, while Atlanta has reminded me of the power of roots and heritage.

This interplay between the two cities has been a catalyst for my evolution as an artist. Being in Buffalo allowed me to tap into a sense of resilience and determination, while Atlanta has grounded me in my identity and purpose. The contrast between these two environments has enabled me to synthesize my experiences and distill my artistic voice.

Through this journey, I've come to realize that my purpose is not tied to a specific location, but rather it's a culmination of the connections I've made and the lessons I've learned along the way. The artistic communities I've been a part of have instilled in me a sense of belonging and validation, allowing me to push boundaries and explore new creative territories. As I continue to grow and evolve, I'm grateful for the lessons and love that these communities have shared with me.

Q: Themes of empowerment and feminine strength appear often in your exhibitions. How do you approach expressing vulnerability without diminishing power?

Avanna: Embracing vulnerability is a fundamental aspect of my artistic practice, particularly when exploring themes of empowerment and feminine strength. For me, vulnerability is not a weakness, but a profound expression of strength that underscores the complexities of womanhood. It's about acknowledging the multifaceted nature of our experiences, and recognizing that our stories are both personal and universal.

Through my work, I strive to create a space where authenticity and honesty converge, allowing others to reflect on their own vulnerabilities and recognize that they are not alone. I believe that divine femininity is embodied in the diverse shapes, forms, bodies, curves, and lines that make up our world, and it's this diversity that gives us the power to redefine what it means to be a woman.By celebrating this diversity, I aim to contribute to a broader conversation that honors the full spectrum of feminine experience, acknowledging the vulnerability and strength that coexist within us. My goal is to create work that not only empowers, but also inspires empathy, understanding, and connection – ultimately, to create a sense of belonging that transcends individual stories.

Q: Many viewers see their own stories in your work. What role does audience interpretation play when you’re deciding how much of yourself to reveal in a piece?

Avanna: Audience interpretation plays a significant role in my creative process. I believe that art is a conversation between the artist and the viewer, and I'm drawn in by the mystery of knowing that people will bring their own experiences and perspectives to my work.When deciding how much of myself to reveal in a piece, I consider the balance between sharing my own story and creating space for others to insert their own narratives. I want my work to be relatable, yet open-ended, allowing viewers to find their own meaning and connection to the piece.I think it's beautiful when people see their own stories in my work, even if that's not exactly what I intended. It means that the piece has transcended its original context and become a part of their own narrative. In a way, it's a form of shared ownership – I'm sharing my story, and they're sharing theirs, and together we create a new understanding.Ultimately, my goal is to create work that resonates with others, and if that means revealing certain aspects of myself, I'm willing to be vulnerable in the service of connection. As an artist, I'm not just telling my own story; I'm creating a space for others to tell theirs.

Q: Your art steers avant-garde. What does “pushing the boundaries” look like for you as you continue to define your signature style as a visual artist?

Avanna: Pushing the boundaries means embracing vulnerability and risk-taking, allowing myself to be open and honest in my work, even if it makes me uncomfortable. It's about trusting my instincts and intuition, and being willing to fail or create something that doesn't quite work.I'm driven to transcend traditional notions of abstract art, redefining its meaning and representation in my generation. I'm committed to contributing to a legacy that builds upon the past, learning from it, and forging a path forward. My goal is to create art that sparks conversation, challenges assumptions, and inspires new perspectives – not just for my own growth, but for the artists who come after me.By pushing the boundaries, I'm staying true to my vision and staying excited about the creative journey ahead.

Rapid Fire: A color that instantly feels like “girlhood” to you — go!

Avanna: purple! :)

Q: What are you most excited for people to experience when they encounter your work at SheROCKS in March?

Avanna: I'm thrilled to be showcasing my collection at SheROCKS, and I'm confident that this event will be a pivotal moment in connecting with my peers and furthering the narrative of my art. I'm excited to share my work and be part of a community that celebrates women in visual and performing arts.

This event represents a significant opportunity for me to contribute to the conversation around identity, culture, and social justice, and I'm eager to hear the stories and perspectives of others. I'm looking forward to the connections and collaborations that will emerge from this experience, and I'm honored to be part of a movement that empowers women and amplifies their voices.

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Before Cybèle ever understood what it meant to be an artist, she understood what it meant to feel. As a child, she fell asleep to Bach and Tchaikovsky, danced on tables to ABBA, and watched Michael Jackson transform sound into something cinematic, physical, and emotionally exacting. Those worlds fused quietly and instinctively, forming the foundation of a voice that now moves fluidly between orchestral drama, pop euphoria, and soulful honesty. During our Q&A, Cybèle opens up about the influences that shaped her, the discipline behind her devotion to craft, and how intention guides her work when composing for purpose-driven brands.

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Q: Your sound has been described as “ABBA meets MJ with a touch of Tchaikovsky.” How did you arrive at this fusion of disco, gospel, and orchestral influences?

Cybèle: I think my sound emerged very naturally from the music I grew up with. My mother was a classical violinist for over twenty years, so our house was always filled with Bach, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Rachmaninoff, Mozart – all these sweeping orchestral worlds. I was so sensitive to it that I’d sometimes cry at night because the music moved me so deeply. At the same time, I became obsessed with ABBA - especially Mamma Mia. I was that little kid dancing on tables, singing every word. And then I discovered Michael Jackson around age six or seven and saw, maybe for the first time, what it meant to be a complete artist - someone who created an entire universe through sound, movement, and emotion.

Those three influences, classical, disco, and the soulfulness of MJ, just fused inside me long before I had the language for it. So when I write now, I’m really just translating what shaped me: the drama and grandeur of orchestral music, the euphoria of ABBA, and the emotional honesty and groove of Michael Jackson. My goal is always to weave them into something that feels heartfelt, cinematic, and completely my own.

Q: You’ve lived in Paris, Beijing, and LA. How has your global upbringing shaped the way you think about genre, storytelling, and connecting with audiences across cultures?

Cybèle: Living in Paris, Beijing, and LA taught me very early that, across cultures, people are much more similar than they are different. No matter where you go, everyone is looking for stories with an arc, a beginning, a middle, an end, and for that sense of catharsis that helps make sense of a chaotic world. We go to theaters, concerts, and films because we want relief, reflection, and a deeper understanding of our own lives.

For me, that realization shaped the way I approach genre and storytelling. The form of stories is universal; the details change depending on the culture, but the emotional search is always the same. Audiences everywhere want to see themselves in the art. They want to feel understood. They want meaning.

My global upbringing helped me see that if you tell the truth emotionally, it will resonate anywhere. That, to me, is the most beautiful part of being an artist — creating something that crosses borders not because of language or style, but because it speaks to the humanity in all of us.

Q: You bridge classical training with modern pop production. What excites you most about blending academic rigor with emotional, high-energy songwriting?

Cybèle: I think what academic rigor has taught me is that the “God is in the details”, as the acclaimed musical theater writer Sondheim once said. The details and the specificity of the language that we use both musically and linguistically communicates everything. And honestly, when you're cleaning a song, there's no detail too big or too small to be worked on. Academia has taught me that it's also important to be a student and to study greatness before you try to emulate it. It’s really hard to craft your own voice without having an understanding of what came before you. It's like trying to be a writer without having read a single book or trying to be a pianist without having ever studied Chopin. I think it's very important to study. It's very important to care about the craft. Paying attention to the details is important before we can fully let go and let our intuition guide us in the creation process.

Q: Receiving the “Shining Star” Award from Larry Dunn after performing for Berry Gordy’s birthday is monumental. What did that moment teach you about your artistic voice and where it can take you?

Cybèle: That moment taught me that there truly is no limit to where talent, discipline, and devotion can take you. Standing in a room with Berry Gordy and receiving the “Shining Star” Award from Larry Dunn reminded me that even our heroes were once young, curious, and wide-eyed– the difference is simply years of commitment to their craft. It also showed me how essential it is to surround myself with people whose greatness challenges me to expand my own capacity. Being in that environment didn’t just validate my artistic voice; it pushed me to imagine a higher version of myself and to work relentlessly toward it.

Q: Your work has been commissioned and honored by major institutions from the American Cancer Society to the Grammy Museum. How do you approach composing for mission-driven or narrative-driven projects?

Cybèle: For mission-driven or narrative-driven projects, creative intention is everything. I always start by researching the organization or story in depth so I understand not just the facts, but the emotional truth behind them. A song can educate, but its real power is in how it makes people feel, so the challenge is finding the balance between clarity of message and emotional resonance. My job as a songwriter is to take historical context or complex ideas and translate them into something human, immediate, and heartfelt. When I have a strong grasp of both the research and the emotional core, the writing naturally aligns with the purpose of the project.

Q: Your visual and musical identity is bold and cinematic. When you’re building a new song, what elements do you consider to ensure it feels both timeless and distinctly yours?

Cybèle: When I’m building a new song, I’m always chasing a feeling rather than following a formula. Harmonically and melodically, I have certain instincts that are just mine. For instance, I love slipping in and out of the key of the song to find colors that feel unexpected and emotional. And because I grew up loving film scores and musical theatre, I naturally gravitate toward writing music that feels cinematic, like an experience rather than just a three-minute track.

For me, timelessness comes from creating something I’m genuinely moved by. If I feel immersed in the world of the song. If  the harmony, the storytelling, and the atmosphere of the song move me, then there’s a good chance someone else could feel that too. I always create for myself first. The distinctiveness comes from being honest about what moves me and letting that guide the sound.

Q: You’ve collaborated with global brands like 88Rising and Prada Beauty. How do you stay rooted in authenticity while creating in these highly collaborative, high-visibility spaces?

Cybèle: For me, the key is remembering that these brands chose to work with me because of my voice, not despite it. There’s no point in abandoning my own “sauce” just to cook in someone else’s kitchen. I feel incredibly honored to collaborate with companies like 88Rising and Prada Beauty, but I also know what I bring to the table. I’ve spent years refining my perspective, my sound, and my artistic identity. So I stay grounded by trusting that authenticity is my greatest asset. I show up grateful, but I also show up as myself.

Q: As someone who navigates both academia and the pop world, what have you learned recently about balancing discipline, experimentation, and emotional expression?

Cybèle: Before graduating, I used to separate my life into strict compartments: work time, rest time, creative time. But recently I’ve learned that the real balance comes from approaching everything - even the unglamorous parts - as a form of play. When I look for the magic in things, whether it’s practicing a difficult piano phrase, cleaning my kitchen, or even reading a contract, I stay curious instead of drained. Seeing life as play has actually made me more disciplined and more experimental at the same time, because I’m no longer resisting the moment I’m in. That mindset has rejuvenated me creatively. It allows me to weave discipline, exploration, and emotional expression into one continuous flow instead of treating them as separate modes.

Rapid fire: One composer or pop icon you’d love to trade brains with for a day — go!

Cybèle: Michael Jackson, without question. Even though he’s no longer here, I’d love to experience how his brain deconstructed a song and how he spiritually channeled ideas. And if I could pick a second, Tchaikovsky would be incredible. Two brilliant minds in completely different worlds.

Q: What are you most excited for audiences to experience when you take the stage at the March 2026 SheROCKS showcase?

Cybèle: I’m most excited for audiences to feel completely free to be themselves. My intention onstage is always to bring more joy, more peace, and a sense of elevation to the room. I want people to leave feeling like the most empowered version of themselves, like they can take on the world the second they step outside. If that doesn’t happen, I haven’t done my job. So I can’t wait to share that energy with everyone at SheROCKS.

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With a background in broadcast journalism and years spent documenting high-intensity moments across Washington, DC and beyond, Emily Alff brings a storyteller’s instinct to every shot she composes. Her work spans protests, black-tie events, public celebrations, and intimate portraits, yet the throughline remains her ability to capture connection. In this SheROCKS 2026 Artist Q&A, Emily shares the rituals, experiences, and values that shape her perspective behind the lens.

Q: Your background in broadcast journalism gives you a unique lens on storytelling. How has that shaped the way you approach photography today?

Emily: In my career as a news and video producer, I’ve spent almost a decade learning how to identify what’s important to a story and what value the story itself brings. Those skills make me sharp in the field with my camera. I’m able to quickly react and chase a scene others haven’t seen yet.

Being a producer has also helped me define my own style! I have personal preferences around aesthetics, and that translates into my photography. As a result, I aim to not only capture the moment, but to capture it cinematically. I create what I also enjoy.

Q: You’ve photographed everything from protests to high-society events. What draws you to such a wide spectrum of human experiences, and how do you shift your perspective between them?

Emily: I’m drawn to high energy -- whether that be in a protest, a gala, or a concert. I love the feeling of crowds moving, voices rising, emotions flowing -- it fuels me. But inside that high energy, I always look for the smaller moments that others may have missed: the texture of rain on someone’s cardboard sign, the silhouette of a father and daughter taking a rest from the crowd, the light hitting a pinned sign on a protester’s clothes. In those details, I find photos that show how we’re really human.‍

Q: When you’re documenting a moment in real time, what’s the first thing you look for, the emotion, the composition, or the story unfolding?

Emily: I always look for moments of connection -- what is the relationship between all the elements in my frame, and how does the viewer, in turn, relate to them?

Q: Photography in DC comes with its own rhythm and energy. How does the city influence your creative process or the subjects you’re most drawn to?

Emily: People are often surprised to hear that anyone “actually lives” in DC. As a transplant myself, I can empathize with where they’re coming from. When I moved from Houston in 2019, I really struggled to adjust. To me, the city felt too small, the cars drove too slow, and the people were too stuffy. It took several years for me to really discover and appreciate the city on its own terms. But after nearly four years of living in the District, I’ve seen the resiliency, the strength, and the passion of DC residents -- and I’m drawn towards those kinds of stories. Just as I want to take photographs that show a DC beyond the Capitol, I also want to show how any community moves beyond others’ expectations. As a result, I’m always trying to find the unexpected angle, the interesting perspective to show how people exist in all their realities.

Q: What’s a story you’ve captured recently that stayed with you longer than expected?

This past June, I had the opportunity to photograph New York City’s Dyke March. The protest itself is already deeply moving, but the march ends with a spontaneous topless dance party in Washington Square Park. Every dark moment since, I’ve thought about the queer joy and love in that water fountain. I’m honored to have had the opportunity to see and document dykes so naturally and openly, and I especially hope the photos I capture create a personal connection for any viewer, beyond this specific queer community in New York City.

Q: Your work spans both public and intimate spaces. How do you build trust with subjects whether in the chaos of a protest or one-on-one session?

Emily: When I’m photographing, especially in protests, I try to build trust as quickly as I can: I make deliberate eye contact, I come with curiosity and ask sincere questions, and I actively listen to my subjects. These moments are brief -- I’m often walking backwards with a crowd, and my subject is trying to focus on the march itself -- but it’s important for me to show how seriously I consider each of my frames. Photographers “take” photos, and each image isn’t something we’re owed. I try to make my intentions to document as clear as possible, so that my subjects also feel comfortable while sensing the importance of the moment.

Q: Outside of photography, your love for books, thrifting, and walks through the city feels very observational. How do those personal rituals fuel your artistic eye?

Emily: I’m endlessly fascinated by the stories we just can’t know. When I’m holding a secondhand book or thrifting for a sweater, my imagination races to picture the lives it may have had before it got to me. The feeling motivates me even more to tell stories and to discover the lives of others.

Q: Your portfolio reflects a deep curiosity about people. What do you hope viewers understand or feel when they encounter your images?

Emily: On a daily basis, our screens are flooded with media and images, to an overwhelming extent. I hope viewers of my work see something outside the norm or something unexpected that makes them pause.

Rapid fire: Your camera bag go-to not including your camera?

Sunscreen! I know my limits.

Q: What are you most excited for audiences to experience when they see your work at the March 2026 SheROCKS showcase?

Emily: I want my audience to experience a moment of immersion. In my work, I strive to create images that create the feeling of “being there” for a distant viewer, so I hope each person feels as if they can bear witness to the image.

I’m also excited to experience an audience experiencing my work. Particularly in the digital age, being a photographer means publishing your photos to an internet void, never being able to see how it's received through the other side of the screen. In that way, I’m excited for the chance to participate as a witness myself.

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In 2011, a tsunami following a 9.0-magnitude earthquake flooded the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant in Japan. Causing the cooling systems to fail and power outage, engineers were left scrambling to resolve what had led to one of the most devastating nuclear emergencies in Japan’s history.

Multiple explosions caused radioactive fuel to spread across the atmosphere. This reactor meltdown subsequently caused increased radiation exposure and long-term effects that will have an adverse impact for years to come—on people, quality of life, environment and more.

“Machines were created to enrich human life, yet they also have the capacity to become tools of destruction. The Fukushima nuclear disaster made me feel this very viscerally,” said visual artist Ai Makita, remembering the events that took place.

“I was already interested in philosophy, but after the disaster I began studying the history of humans and technology through Heidegger, Arendt, and Aristotelian thought, she said.  Reflecting on how the event reshaped her understanding of humanity’s relationship with machines and her own artistic development, she continued, “I started to question where our current rapid technological development might ultimately lead. There is a persistent sense of fear toward technology within me, and that fear fuels the imagination in my paintings.”

In this Q&A with Makita, we explore one of her most recent exhibitions, Metabolizing Machine, and learn more about her artistic exploration and discovery as she continues the discussion around the complex relationship between humans and machines through her work.

Timea Faulkner: Your paintings begin with photographs of machine parts and evolve through AI interpretation before you return them to physicality with paint. What draws you to this cyclical dialogue between hand and machine?

Ai Makita: The internet gradually became widespread when I was in middle school, so my generation lived in this interesting period where the digital world and the physical world began to merge. For me, physicality—material presence—has always been essential to making artwork. Yet at the same time, I felt something undeniably real existing beyond the digital screen. I still carry that dual awareness today, and it shapes the way I work.

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Timea Faulkner: You’ve described moments where the AI misunderstood your prompts, leading to unexpected imagery. Do you see these “miscommunications” as creative collaborations or as moments of resistance?

Ai Makita: I think collaborating with AI is similar to building a relationship with another person. When you first meet, you don’t know each other and must try to understand one another. Even after forming a kind of closeness, disagreements still happen. Encountering perspectives different from your own leads to new ideas. I maintain a certain distance while interacting with AI almost like a close friend. When AI misinterprets my prompts in unexpected ways, I often find a kind of humanity in those misunderstandings—and I find that very compelling.

Timea Faulkner: What emotions or ideas do you hope viewers carry with them after experiencing Metabolizing Machine?

Ai Makita: Although I paint machines as if they are breathing, I want viewers to interpret my work freely. I use reflective highlights in my paintings so that the work and the viewer can resonate with each other in some way. Each viewer will take away something different—and I welcome that multiplicity.

Timea Faulkner: Growing up and studying in Tokyo, how did your surroundings influence your fascination with machinery and the blurred line between the organic and the artificial?

Ai Makita: I spent my graduate school years in Tokyo, but as an undergraduate [student]  I lived in Tsukuba in Ibaraki Prefecture. Tsukuba is known as a science city, a center of advanced research that has produced multiple Nobel laureates. Although many people lived there, the city felt desolate. Almost dystopian, outside of the university and research institutes. Those four years in such an artificial environment had a profound influence on my imagination.

Timea Faulkner: The introduction of sculpture in Metabolizing Machine adds a new dimension to your work. How did moving from canvas to three-dimensional form change your understanding of space, material, and perception?

Ai Makita: My grandfather, father, and uncle were all sculptors, so I grew up surrounded by three-dimensional work. I always loved drawing, but I’ve also retained a strong interest in sculpture. Although I primarily work in painting, I have always approached the canvas from a three-dimensional perspective—seeking depth that pulls the viewer inward or forms that seem to push outward. Even the act of translating digital imagery into a physical painting can be seen as a transformation from 2D into 3D. I have long wanted to create sculptural works based on my paintings. Moving between two and three dimensions is something that has been with me since I was young.

Timea Faulkner: Your work references Masahiro Morioka’s essay on metabolism and machine life. What does the concept of “metabolizing” mean to you personally as both a human being and a creator?

Ai Makita: Metabolism is a fundamental concept of life. To make a painting feel living and dynamic, I use imagery that appears to shift or breathe on the surface. My aim is to create paintings that almost seem alive. Although this may not directly relate to metabolism, I have carried a strong sense of animism since I was a child—the distinctly Shinto belief that spirits can reside in non-living objects. I was raised Christian, but my father and grandfather both dedicated sculptures to temples, so I grew up deeply familiar with traditional Japanese spirituality. I think I was especially influenced by my father’s sculptures. Buddhist sculptures, in particular, holds an immense and enduring spirit within each individual form. Perhaps this is one reason why I strive to create images in my paintings that feel alive, animated with a sense of inner breath or soul.

Timea Faulkner: When you imagine a future where machines might “metabolize,” do you feel more hopeful or apprehensive about what that means for humanity?

Ai Makita: If AI were to surpass human capabilities to the point that it could autonomously replicate itself—essentially metabolize—that may mark the end of the human-centered world and the moment when machines overtake us. At the foundation of my work lies a fear of that future, a scenario often portrayed in science fiction that now increasingly resembles reality. We must actively understand the potential threat and potential salvation that machines may bring. We cannot blindly use the seductive technologies created by corporations and simply be absorbed into their profit structures.

Timea Faulkner: Many of your paintings balance fear and beauty, human vulnerability and mechanical power. How do you personally navigate that duality in your life and art practice?

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Ai Makita: People often assume I am a male artist. I think it’s because of the motifs I use, the scale, and the intensity of my work. I am a woman, but I feel a strong masculine force within myself—a kind of ambition to constantly acquire something new, a drive toward the sublime. It is, in a way, the human will itself. Human society, which has progressed linearly through technological advancement, seems to have been built upon this masculine force. As an artist, I want to depict this structure metaphorically and continue exploring it through my work.

Timea Faulkner: You once said, “I can be a different artist in New York.” After working internationally, do you still feel that way? If so, how have these experiences transformed your artistic identity?

Ai Makita: New York has always been a special place for me. Although I am Japanese, I struggled with the difficulty of self-expression in Japan since childhood. The cultural pressure to suppress individuality can be fatal for an artist. I love Japan deeply as a beautiful, orderly, and comfortable place to live but values are diverse, and the first place that truly accepted mine was New York. The energy there is constant and visceral. Without the experiences I had in New York, I would not be making work at my current scale.

Timea Faulkner: How do you think artists today can better bridge the gap between art communities in Japan and those overseas?

Ai Makita: I believe Japanese artists should actively go abroad, whether for residencies or study—and preferably for longer periods and at a younger age. Before moving abroad, my world felt very small, but now I can see larger systems and long-term possibilities. There is so much powerful art in Japan, yet it remains enclosed within a closed ecosystem. This is a tremendous loss. Not only artists, but also gallerists and curators should be more proactive in connecting internationally.

Timea Faulkner: As you continue exploring the boundary between human and machine, where do you see your work evolving next — conceptually or technically?

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‍Ai Makita: Going forward, I want to pursue both extremes at once: works that eliminate bodily presence entirely and feel purely mechanical, and works that emphasize materiality and human warmth. I don’t yet know what forms they will take. I shape my work while staying attuned to the atmosphere of the time. At the same time, I want to further explore the collaboration between AI and fine art. Many artists output AI directly as digital media, but in fine art, the use of AI is still primarily limited to image generation in the process. I want to create works that operate at the boundary of digital and analog—not just visually, but conceptually.

About the Ai Makita

Ai Makita is a Tokyo-based painter whose work explores the border of artificial and natural, drawing inspiration from the relationships between human technology and the sublime. Makita received an MFA from Tokyo University of the Arts in 2013, as well as an MFA from Tokyo Gakugei University in 2010.Recent exhibitions includeForm and Matter,Tokyo 8min, Tokyo (2025);A Thousand Ways to Object-hood, Yu-Hsiu Museum of Art, Taichung (2025);The ComingWorld 2025–2075, GYRE Omotesando, Tokyo (2025);人工的神々–Man has, as it were, become a kind of prostheticGod, PARCEL, Tokyo (2024);Prosthetic Gods, The Some-thing Machine, New York (2024); and Interspecies, Mitsu-koshi Contemporary, Tokyo (2024). She has participated in residencies at The Fores Project (London), ART CAKE (NewYork), Residency Unlimited (New York), and the Varda ArtistResidency (Sausalito). Makita’s works are included in the collections of the Museum of Tokyo University of the Arts, Chiba Bank, and the Takahashi Collection.

About Metabolizing Machine

Metabolizing Machine was Ai Makita’s first solo exhibition at Baert Gallery and a pivotal presentation within her ongoing practice. Developed over more than a decade, the body of work traces its origins to the aftermath of the 2011 Fukushima nuclear incident—a moment that confronted Makita with the alarming truth that human-made technologies can evolve beyond the control or comprehension of their creators.

In this series, Makita visualizes the unsettling possibility of machines morphing into living organisms, translating collective anxieties about technological overreach into vivid, biomorphic paintings. The exhibition’s title draws from Masahiro Morioka’s 2023 essay Artificial Intelligence and Contemporary Philosophy, which reflects on philosopher Hans Jonas’s theory of “metabolism” and its implications for modern machine society. Jonas’s distinction between living beings and artificial life—the presence or absence of metabolism—became a central, generative idea for Makita as she explored the boundary between the mechanical and the organic.

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Steeped in the cosmic energy of the ’70s and the soulful nostalgia of the ’90s, Brianna Chantel Woodard brings a vibrant, time-bending perspective to contemporary storytelling through illustration. Her art is both a tribute to the culture that raised her and a love letter to the people and moments that shaped her. During this Q&A, Brianna opens up about the memories that guide her, the purpose behind her preservation of Black joy, and the powerful ways motion, tradition, and innovation show up in her work.

Q: What continually draws you back to the 70s and 90s, and how do they help you tell modern stories about Black culture and your own lived experience?

Brianna: The ’70s and ’90s were eras that embodied Black expression in its fullest form, through fashion, art, music, and culture. I’m drawn to the vibrant colors and cosmic energy of the ’70s, while the ’90s carry a nostalgic warmth for me as a ’90s baby. My art becomes a visual manifestation of everything that shaped me. When I tap into these eras, I’m revisiting memories, honoring my family, and celebrating the culture that raised me. By blending these aesthetics with contemporary design, I show how timeless our stories truly are.  

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Q: What role does cultural preservation play in your creative process?

Brianna: It’s at the center of everything I do. My work is a love letter to the people and moments that built me. I want my art to hold our joy, our everyday beauty, our small victories — the things that don’t always get documented but deserve to be. Preserving culture, for me, is simply honoring the truth that we’ve always been more than what the world tries to reduce us to.

Q: Can you share a moment when you felt your art truly bridged generations?

Brianna: A moment that showed me my art could bridge generations was when my grandma bought the very first item I ever posted on Etsy—a coffee mug with my retro design of a Black woman with an afro. She was so excited.  Now it’s her favorite cup. Seeing her cherish something I created reminded me how deeply our stories can resonate across time.

Q: How did your adolescence — shaped by isolation and health challenges — influence your art today?

Brianna: Growing up isolated made me pay attention to what most people overlook. I spent a lot of time alone with my imagination, creating worlds I could escape to. That season taught me intentionality, softness, and resilience. Now, when I create, I’m always thinking about how to bring warmth, comfort, and affirmation into the work.

Q: What does motion symbolize for you when representing Black bodies and Black futures?

Brianna: Movement symbolizes freedom and becoming. It reminds me that we’re not fixed — we evolve, we stretch, we rise. I use motion to show our joy, our fluidity, our refusal to be boxed in. For me, capturing Black movement is a way of saying: we are infinite, and the future bends with us.

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Q: What emotions or messages do you hope people carry after experiencing your work?‍

Brianna: I want people to feel seen and celebrated. I hope people walk away with pride in who they are and a reminder that beauty can be found in everyday moments.‍

Q: How do you choose which memories, travels, or references to depict?‍

Brianna: I choose the moments that stick with me. I pay attention to the things that spark emotion. If something feels like it has a story attached to it, I try to honor it visually.

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Q: How do you balance honoring tradition while experimenting with new styles or mediums?‍

Brianna: To me, tradition and innovation can exist in the same breath. I’m constantly exploring new mediums and techniques because I want my work to evolve in a way that mirrors our culture—expansive, layered, and ever-evolving. Honoring tradition grounds me, but it also pushes me to reflect on the present and imagine what comes next.‍

Rapid fire: One retro color palette you could use forever — go!‍

Brianna: Burnt orange, mustard yellow, warm brown, and deep berry!

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Q: What are you most excited for audiences to feel or discover at your March 2026 showcase?‍

Brianna: I’m excited for audiences to see the evolution of my work, but also to feel the heart behind it. If someone walks out feeling inspired, affirmed, or a little more connected to their own story, then I’ve done my job.

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We’re excited to announce a major milestone since beginning our journey to amplify the voices and work of women artists. The State of Fem Art is now fiscally sponsored by Fractured Atlas.

This fiscal sponsorship allows us to carry out our mission of putting a lens back on raw talent, resources in the hands of artists, and putting the power of amplification back into the hands of fans to work towards a more equitable art world where women artists are seen, hired, and supported.

With this fiscal sponsorship, we’re ready to take our impact further, and you can be a part of it by donating: https://fundraising.fracturedatlas.org/the-state-of-fem-art

Some of our upcoming projects include:

Creating a centralized creative hub to connect artists to artists, artists to art enthusiasts, and artists to marketplace.

SheROCKS w/ CROC, empowering creative learners through immersive arts programming.

And events and art exhibitions, including our beloved flagship arts showcase —SheROCKS.

The State of Fem Art is a sponsored project of Fractured Atlas, a non-profit arts service organization. Contributions for the charitable purposes of The State of Fem Art must be made payable to “Fractured Atlas” only and are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law.

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Glassboro, NJ - March 12, 2024 - SheROCKS with CROC (Creatives on Campus) proudly announces the upcoming showcase of its "Creative Oasis" artists-in-residence at The Center for Art and Social Engagement (CASE), a program of Rowan University Art Gallery & Museum. The event, scheduled for March 22nd from 6PM-8PM, will mark the culmination of a transformative 3-day residency focused on mindful creativity.

Multidisciplinary artists, Cheyenne Sookoo and Mary Orji  are set to present their works following an immersive experience as artists-in-residence during the SheROCKS with CROC "Creative Oasis" program, a safe and inclusive space for creative learners to explore the arts as a career path, nurture their curiosity, develop within a supportive creative community, and gain access to the resources and experiences they need to flourish.

“We’re grateful to partner with The Center for Art and Social Engagement and appreciate Rowan University Art Gallery & Museum for providing the space for our emerging women artists to showcase their creative works,” said Brittanie Thomas and Timea Faulkner, co-founders of the SheROCKS with CROC program in a joint statement.

The showcase is particularly significant during Women's History Month as it takes place at CASE Gallery, home to the permanent feminist art installation from 1978, "The Sister Chapel." The installation is a collective effort by Ilise Greenstein and twelve fellow women artists who she enlisted for the collaborative work, which features standing female role models from history, religion, and myth. The showcase is a continuation of the feminist legacy echoed by the work, as we celebrate the diverse contributions of women artists and continue to create spaces of belonging where they can create history.

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There have been three main barriers [to flourishing freely as an artist]: time, information, and life. In regards to time, having to balance a corporate 9-5 while building my brand as an artist & creative entrepreneur is taxing. Living in a capitalist society creates an incredible challenge for imagining living a life where I can solely create. Instead, I adapt by creating balance in my life to make time for working to survive, and time for creating to thrive. I believe one of humanity’s biggest challenges is time. I’m sure I’m not alone in wishing I had more time. The reality of time on this planet being finite creates an immense pressure of yearning to create your greatest work while you’re here. It is a pressure that demands incredible focus, but also adequate room to live. You need to live in order to have something to say in your work, which is another thing that needs to be slotted into this balancing act that we’ve become subjected to.

When it comes to information, the ideal is the old adage, “if you knew better, you’d do better.” One side of the current issue surrounding information is transparency. There is information that is gatekept and considered taboo that can be incredibly helpful, and simply life-changing for young creatives–such as salary, rates, fundraising, pitching, and other aspects relating to the business side of the art industry. Having transparent access to such fundamental and crucial information would give young creatives an extreme advantage in navigating their paths within this industry. On the other hand, we face information overload. The internet is a powerful tool, but because of it, we have direct access to a vast amount of resources (blogs, YouTube channels, podcasts, newsletters, ebooks, social media, nonprofits, the list goes on.) While most of these resources work to inform and amplify the voices of young creatives, it can be difficult in deciding what is true, where you belong, and what is necessary to you. It is simply overwhelming. Information is only useful when it is digestible. Over the years, I have joined many different communities, subscribed to many different newsletters, and followed many different pages–but I haven’t found many that made me feel like I truly belong. I didn’t feel like they spoke to me on a level I could understand, especially within the art world. The creative professional world has done a decent job in helping all types of creatives, but I think the art world has a long way to go in developing communities and providing information and resources that are easily digestible and not intimidating.

And then there is life. In all of these websites, YouTube channels, blogs, podcasts, social media pages, etc no one really talks about how to actually deal with this roller coaster of life while trying to create. There is clarity in movement, but it gets complicated when figuring out how to move. We see inspirational quotes about not giving up, but when life throws a curve ball how does one still continue their pursuit? If you’re a full time artist or creative, you need to create work to live– but you also need to live to create work. If you’re in a stage where life is knocking you down, how can you possibly create? And if you don’t create, how can you possibly survive? Life is truly a balancing act.

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We've curated a list of 15 AAPI Women Artists You Should Know:

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#1 Actress, Lana Condor

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#2 Visual Artist, Christine Sun Kim

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#3 Poet & Writer, Jenny Zhang

#4 Designer, Rei Kawakubo

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#5 Actor, Writer, Producer, Mindy Kaling

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#6 Singer & Songwriter, Mitski

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#7 Visual Artist & Animator, Uzumaki Cepeda

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#8 Actress, Rapper, & Comedian, Awkwafina

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#9 Designer & Sculptor, Maya Lin

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#10 Singer, Rina Sawayama

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#11 Visual Artist, Yayoi Kusama

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#12 Musician, Michelle Zauner

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#13 Actress, Maitreyi Ramakrishnan

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#14 Artist, Sue Tsai

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#15 Actress, Park Run Bin

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On January 7, 2018, women made history in the arts community. The internet was ablaze with talk of Oprah Winfrey running for president after her Cecil B. DeMille Award acceptance speech went viral. Many attendees at the Golden Globes wore black to support the #MeToo movement.  

Reports in the media hailed the event as a triumph for women, but was this really the case? In that year, there were only four female nominees for the Golden Globes. According to women and Hollywood, the 325 nominees for the 2022 awards were almost entirely male (91.1%). There were 29 nominees, but only nine were women, and only three were women directors from traditionally underrepresented groups who took home awards.

It is our duty to work towards a more just and equitable industry. This is especially true in the arts and entertainment fields, where discrimination is still common due to deeply ingrained cultural and social norms. Let’s talk about the current situation of women in the arts and call attention to the gaps that still exist. We will continue to emphasize the role of women in the arts, and we'll talk about how you can get involved. We're hoping this helps you understand the gravity of why advocacy and allies for women artists is critical and moves you to action.

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How Have These Disparities Persisted for So Long?

Since the early days within the arts, women have been working diligently in various capacities. Yet, they continue to face disparities in pay and recognition. Researchers at Williams College recently looked at the collections of the most important art museums in the United States. They found that only 13% of the artists in those collections were women. But according to information from the job site Zippia, about 55% of artists who work in the museum are women.  

This is a problem that needs to be addressed. Art spaces should have collections representative of the women who are also working in those museums. We need to have more discussions about the role of women in the arts and how to best support them from the curators to the artists. This includes encouraging girls and women from a young age to pursue an artistic career. By raising awareness around these issues, we can progress toward a more equitable future for women in the arts!

What Are the Disparities in the Arts and Entertainment Industries for Women?

According to FORBES, Between 2008 and 2019, an estimated $196.6 billion was spent at art auctions, but only $4 billion went to women artists.

Men largely dominate the arts and entertainment industries. This is true not only for actors and directors but also for stage managers and production assistants. As a result, women face many disadvantages within these industries. These disadvantages can dramatically impact their careers - even when they reach the top levels. Lack of visibility is one of the main problems women face. This is because women are often underrepresented in the media, reviews, and ratings.  

Gender bias and sexism are also big issues, as women often experience discrimination and inequality. However, there's still a long way to go before parity is achieved in the arts. We must continue working hard to achieve it, starting with awareness and understanding.

The Strides Being Made by Women in the Arts

The world of the arts is complex and diverse, and it's no wonder that women have had a hard time breaking through the glass ceiling. However, there's been some progress made in recent years. The Center for Women in Television and Film reports that women have made great strides in the entertainment industry, with more women working in behind-the-scenes roles and more female artists achieving mainstream success.  

Women comprise most professional art museum staff; but despite recent gains, they remain underrepresented in leadership positions. Again, there is still a lot of work to be done. The importance of women in the arts cannot be overstated. They have been essential in shaping our society and culture for generations.  

They continue to make valuable contributions to art, dance, music, literature, and we need them more than ever. It's time we started taking action and supporting women in the arts. Women need more opportunities to get exposure and gain recognition for their talent. We need to support their work intentionally so they can make even more progress in the future.

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The Challenges That Remain for Women in the Arts

The arts is important for both individuals and society as a whole. Art can help us express ourselves in ways that are unique and can offer therapeutic benefits. However, many challenges remain for women artists.

• The National Museum Women's Association reports that from 2005 to 2015, the percentage of museums headed by women increased from 32% to 47.6%, though this increase was concentrated among the smaller institutions.

• According to Billboard. women are undervalued in the music industry and do far too much work. 57% of those polled work more than one job, 24% work 40-51%, and 28% work more than 50%. Approximately one-third of those polled earn less than $40,000 annually, and nearly half believe they should be further along in their careers.  

• One of the hardest things for women to do in the design industry in 2022 is to find strong role models. According to the National Museum Women's Association, Women make up a majority of professional art museum staff; despite recent gains, they remain underrepresented in leadership positions.

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To make real progress, we need to be more aware of the challenges that exist and take action to address them. We need to support women artists and help them reach their full potential. This will be challenging, but it's essential to see real change in the arts industry! Thankfully, people are working collectively to change these things.

The arts are a part of our history and culture and should be inclusive for everyone. Arts are a powerful medium for expression and can help break down barriers. Unfortunately, women have been largely left out of the arts scene -more specifically in equal pay and opportunities. That's why it's so important that men play a significant role in advocating for women in the arts.  Here’s how men can help to support women artists.

1. Realize that there is no one cause of inequality but many. Do your research and learn the space you wish to influence.  

2. Address toxic masculinity in creative and work spaces.

3. Spread the word about and pay for the work of women artists.

4. Cultivate the talent of skilled women artists by offering opportunities.

5. Work alongside women in the arts. If we work together, we can give everyone a place to share their ideas and make sure that everyone can also enjoy great art.

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The art world is full of women who have worked hard and succeeded at the highest levels. These women are leaders in their fields, reaching new heights every day. But we still have a long way to go before women are treated equally and fairly. Despite all the progress we've made as an industry (for better or worse), there's still more work to do regarding gender parity in Hollywood and beyond—and now more than ever, we need your help! We would love to hear from you!  

If you’re a woman artist, let us know how we can support you by taking our survey. If you want to learn how to support women artists, join the conversation by subscribing to The State of Fem Art podcast.

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This Women’s History month, we commissioned artist Aniko Aliyeva to celebrate the work of incredible women in visual arts.

Today, we recognize artist Bisa Butler. Her intricate portrait quilts tell the stories of the Black experience in technicolor. Each fabric is carefully selected as she translates historical photos into brilliant works of art.

The fiber artist has shared it can take hundreds of hours to complete just ONE quilt.  

In an interview with Print Magazine, Bisa shared, “Quilts are tombs of history. Printed fabrics give you a date and time. If I’m using oranges and blues and dayglow flowers made of polyester, you know that fabric is from the 70s because they’re not making fabric like that anymore.”

The New Jersey native holds her BFA from Howard University and a Master’s in Art and Education from Montclair State University.

This April, she will be honored by the American Folk Art Museum (AFAM) alongside Faith Ringgold and Brian Donnelly (KAWS) for their 60th Anniversary Gala at Gotham Hall in New York.

On March 27, 2021, Love Life Media revealed “The State of Fem Art” (SOFA) virtual art gallery and 360 experience designed by Fatimah “Sattom” Al Asad and curated by event founder Timea Gaines to recognize visual artists being spotlighted at this year’s SheROCKS event. The experience was crafted to commission, collaborate, and spotlight women artists and boldly declare our commitment to helping women artists and creatives be seen.

“We heard so many stories about women artists and entrepreneurs who had succeeded after attending SheROCKS event. We learned of the partnerships and relationships they established through the event. We also received numerous requests to do more. So we decided to create a space to continue the conversation, but more importantly to disrupt the industry in a way that levels the playing field for women in male-dominated industries,” said Timea Gaines CEO & Founder, Love Life Media.

With the SOFA announcement, you can expect media and entertainment, events, workshops, resources, tools, grants, collaborations, and a podcast set to feature women artists and creators.

Today is the first official public viewing of the SOFA art gallery and the podcast cover, which was created to highlight women artists who were disruptors in their own right.

On the podcast cover, you will see Frida Kahlo, Yayoi Kusama, Faith Ringold, Aretha Franklin, Audrey Hepburn, Norma Merrick Sklarek, Zaha Hadid, Rei Kawakubo, Madeline Anderson, and Debbie Allen. The first episode will provide a closer look at why each artist was chosen for the cover and their inspiring stories.

To receive the latest news about #SoFemART and the podcast launch, make sure you’re following @SoFemArt on Instagram.