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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Ren Wright blends nostalgic soundscapes with the emotional intensity of adulthood, creating music that feels both raw and reflective. In this conversation, we discuss how re-releasing “To Feel Like I Exist” under the RenRiot project marked a pivotal shift—one that allowed greater freedom, distance from self-imposed limitations, and a more expansive artistic identity. By tapping into the inner child while honoring the emotional weight of adulthood, Ren crafts music that feels both intimate and expansive. Check out our Q&A with the artist.

Q: Your sound brings both nostalgia and intensity. What emotions or memories do you tap into when you’re building a new track from scratch?

Ren: I spend a lot of time tapping into my inner child with my creations, which brings about the nostalgic sound. Blending it with my adulthood [experience] and the ability to communicate my emotions brings about the intensity. When I am writing I always ask myself, “what do I need to say?” rather than “What do I want to say?” and that allows me to really tap into the critical feelings and find the direction of the song.  

Q: You write, compose, perform, and produce your own work. Which part of that creative process feels the most essential to your artistic identity, and why?

Ren: Composing feels the most essential to my artistic identity because it is uniquely me. One of my signatures is layering. I often hear melodies within melodies and compose my songs with that in mind.  ‍

‍Q: "To Feel Like I Exist” marked a big moment in carving out your public presence. How has your artistry evolved since releasing that track under RenRiot?

Ren: Re-releasing “To Feel Like I Exist” under RenRiot has been essential for the evolution of my artistry. The initial release under my own name felt entirely too personal, which impacted my ability to express that vulnerably— not just with my [stage] presence, but with my music. Separating my band from my personal identity has been critical for allowing my artistry to evolve because I am not limited by placing artificial boundaries on myself. I no longer question myself and ask, "what does this say about me?”

I just create whatever my heart wants to.

Q: You’ve received nods from artists like Bartees Strange and Lacey Sturm. How have those acknowledgments shaped your confidence or direction as an artist?

Ren: Acknowledgement from artists I admire has deeply shaped my confidence because it reconnects me with where I came from and helps guide me to where I’m headed. When someone who has inspired me with their work recognizes my own, it reminds me that I’m now part of the same creative conversation. It has also grounded me in my artistic identity by reinforcing the importance of staying humble and creating from a genuine place, rather than trying to impress anyone. Ironically, the videos and music I put the least thought into have opened the most doors for me. I believe they stand out because they’re the truest reflection of who I am as an artist, and that authenticity has been the greatest source of my increased confidence in my artistic abilities.

Q: You’ve performed alongside Kaisha Blackstone and spent over a decade freelancing. What lessons from your early years still guide your choices in music today?

Ren: I've learned 2 huge lessons over the years: Go into every opportunity as if it is your last chance (without putting too much pressure on yourself to be perfect), and expose yourself to all types of music. Go into every opportunity prepared and confident, while remaining  polite and ready to learn. These lessons have been crucial for the development of my career. I have been able to step into amazing opportunities, without any public social media presence, for years strictly through word of mouth. This is because I showed up to each opportunity this way. I was able to adapt to each scenario due to my wide range of music taste.

Q: Your work blurs genre lines while still feeling distinctly you. How do you balance experimentation with maintaining a signature sound?

Ren: This is actually something that I am still trying to figure out! I believe that experimentation within itself is a part of my signature sound. I take influences from all of the music that I consume across genres and blend it into my own creations, which allows my signature sound to be just that - my sound.

Q: Your performances shift from acoustic intimacy to full-band energy. What does each setup allow you to express differently?

Ren: Acoustic shows really allow me to focus on my vocal passion and the depth of my lyricism. Full-band performances allow me to express myself as a rockstar/entertainer. It feels so good to transfer the passion between my voice and my stage presence depending on which setup I am performing.

Q: As a multidisciplinary artist, from writing to producing, what creative ritual or mindset helps you stay grounded when you're building something new?

Ren: Journaling, then rewriting, has been key for me when writing and producing. Sometimes the simplest of lyrics stay and pack a big punch. But other times, I am able to get poetic with my lyrics and with the overall production of the song.

Rapid Fire: What’s one sound you’re obsessed with right now,  a chord, texture, or unexpected noise that you can’t stop experimenting with?

Ren: I have been obsessed with harmonic minor chords on the guitar. The melancholy sound has really allowed my songwriting to flow and I have been adding this element to a majority of my new songs.

Q: Looking ahead to the March 2026 SheROCKS showcase, what are you most excited to share or experience as you bring your sound to this stage?

Ren: I am so excited to share myself as a reflection of diversity in the music industry! I am a black, masculine-presenting woman, who is passionate about rock music and girlhood. I wish I knew that there were people like me out in the world when I was a child. I take so much vocal inspiration from both r&b and rock, and I think it is the perfect showcase of my identity. I am overjoyed at the opportunity to showcase that black girls can ROCK!

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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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Some artists choose a medium and others choose exploration. Moving fluidly between architecture, visual art, sculpture, and photography, Emily De Lima builds worlds from sketches, discarded materials, and spontaneous ideas. Now based in Queens after graduating from Cornell University’s architecture program, Emily is shaping a practice that refuses limitation and thrives on curiosity. In this Q&A, she shares how experimentation guides her process, why “jack of all trades” feels like a compliment, and how every piece, whether a small collage or a building-scale concept—begins as a prototype with room to grow.

‍Q: You’re a multidisciplinary artist with work spanning architecture, visual art, sculpture, and photography. How do you decide which medium becomes the best for a particular idea or moment?

Emily: Since I’ve never been able to stick to just one medium, I’m constantly experimenting. I like to pick things up and figure out how they work and what they can become. Sometimes an image flashes through my mind and I sketch it out, and those usually turn into paintings. Other times, I just look around wherever I am and see what materials I already have lying around. I love using things considered scraps or trash. I’ll start cutting things out and assembling them, and an idea grows from there.

Everything is a prototype. I’m just trying things out, seeing what works. Smaller pieces become  whole, whether that’s the scale of a painting or a building. They say, “A Jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.” I think there’s something beautiful about not mastering just one thing—staying curious and letting the process guide where the work goes.

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Q: Much of your practice focuses on origin and cultural sensitivity. How has growing up as a Brazilian woman in America shaped the way you interpret space, material, and narrative?

Emily: I think a lot about humans versus shells. How the outer layers we carry affect how people see us. These shells appear on many scales; in the spaces we occupy, the clothes we wear, even the ways we carry ourselves. Often, they get in the way of us truly seeing each other as human.

I’ve always been a bit of a nerd, but because I didn’t fit the typical visual stereotype, I often felt very “othered” in the spaces I’ve occupied. At Brooklyn Tech, the specialized high school I went to, only 7% of the student body was Hispanic/Latino while I was there, and I was frequently overlooked or stereotyped. At Cornell for university, I was again a minority  and I faced similar assumptions. The way I look has affected how seriously people, especially men, have treated me, and I’ve had to work a lot harder to be heard.

I poured these experiences into creating “EXOTIC!”. This ended up being my first exhibited piece, where I drew a parallel to the Brazilian Spix’s blue macaw. The macaw was targeted for its striking blue color and rarity, making it a prized trophy in the illegal bird trade. It was captured and admired, but rarely understood. Their beauty essentially became their downfall, collectors captured them faster than the population could recover, pushing the species to the edge of extinction. I have often been treated in a similar way, as a shiny object that people want to be seen with, but not listened to.

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Q: Your installation “What We Grow” investigates the lasting effects of colonization across Brazil and the Caribbean. What compelled you to take on this history, and how did the collaboration with Cornelius Tulloch shape the project?

Emily: “What We Grow” really started with an architecture option studio I took at Cornell Tech in 2023. We worked closely with Ena McPherson, a Jamaican woman who was a pioneer in the urban gardening movement in East New York. Getting to know her made me notice how much Brazilian and Jamaican culture overlap. That pushed me into researching how plants, traditions, and knowledge moved through the transatlantic slave trade and ended up forming the worlds we grew up in. The similarities weren’t coincidence, but were the result of people carrying their worlds with them under unimaginable conditions.

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The collaboration with Cornelius Tulloch came naturally out of that. Cornelius was a former student of my professor, Peter Robinson, who’s career path blended art and architecture as I was aspiring to do. Peter saw the overlap in how we both think spatially and visually and encouraged the connection.

I applied to a grant opportunity through my school and was awarded to further the research I began in that studio. This culminated into “What We Grow,” a public installation that took place in Tranquility Farm in Brooklyn, NY.

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Q: When you examine how knowledge is passed through craft and tradition, how do you see your own artistic practice contributing to that lineage of storytelling?

Emily: As times change, so do crafts and traditions. Existing practices are added to and transformed with new ways of making. For me, being Brazilian-American adds another layer to this as I’m constantly mixing influences from my Brazilian heritage with the culture I grew up with here in NYC. I’m particularly interested in how being an artist has also significantly shifted in a digital, hyper-capitalist age. It’s no longer enough to just be a skilled painter, you also have to build a presence, navigate both real-life and digital spaces, and find ways for your work to resonate in an oversaturated market. I want to make work that bridges traditional art and digital platforms.

Right now, I’m working on a short film where I take elements from physical pieces and adapt them for a digital video platform, exploring how craft and storytelling can evolve while still carrying the same lineage of care and knowledge.

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Q: With a background in architecture, how does spatial thinking influence the way you build worlds whether as installations, images, or objects?

Emily: Again, I think of everything as pieces that fit together to form a whole. From the screws that hold a structure together, to the columns that support a building, threads that keep fabric intact, layers of paint on a canvas. Every element matters, and everything connects in ways we don’t always expect. My process of building, testing, and letting the idea dictate its form comes directly from thinking like an architect, even when the work ends up on a flat surface.

Q: What questions are currently guiding your creative direction as you move into this next chapter of artistry?

Emily: I grew up in a very Catholic household and went to Catholic school from pre-K to 8th grade. I was always the kid asking too many questions, and that curiosity wasn’t really encouraged. For a long time, that pushed me to reject religion altogether. Now, I’m in a place where I’m reevaluating a lot of it. I’ve studied bits of different belief systems, and I’ve started building my own understanding of spirituality, one that mixes my appreciation for science with the way I see nature and the universe function.

The questions guiding me now are about how humans create meaning, how we inherit stories, and how we rewrite them. I’m interested in how identity is shaped by the things we’re taught versus the things we discover on our own. Those themes have already started appearing in my recent work, and I think they’ll keep leading me forward.

Rapid fire: One material you could work with forever — go!

Emily: Spray paint! I love the messy drips and how you can play with splatters and flicks. It lets me work fast, and experimentally, but it also forces me to adapt and embrace accidents.

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Q: What are you most excited for audiences to feel or discover when they encounter your work at the March 2026 SheROCKS showcase?

Emily: I’m excited to finally push my way into the art world. I graduated just last May, and since then I’ve been pouring myself into making new work and getting it out there. I’m looking forward to giving the audience a glimpse into my chaotic brain. I have a million ideas and I can’t turn them off.

This awards season is seasoning!

From superwoman leading ladies to scene-stealing characters, the Actor Awards 2026 nominees are serving us bold and unforgettable performances in the women-led categories.

At the top of the conversation: Outstanding Performance By A Female Actor In A Leading Role.

This years’ five nominees include Emma Stone (“Bugonia”), Kate Hudson (“Song Sung Blue”), Jessie Buckley (“Hamnet”), Rose Byrne (“If I Had Legs I’d Kick You”) and breakout star “One Battle After Another’s”, Chase Infiniti.

Also, among the leading ladies absent from this year's TV nominee list is one of comedy’s best teachers, Quinta Brunson (“Abbott Elementary”), lawyer turned detective, Kathy Bates (“Matlock”) and Netflix’s favorite podcaster, Kristen Bell (“Nobody Wants This”).  

But all isn’t lost in the land of Oz for Cynthia's on-screen bestie Ariana Grande. Her bubbly-pink Glinda performance earned a nom for Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Supporting Role. She’s nominated alongside Marty Supreme’s Odessa A’zion, Weapons’ Amy Madigan, Sinners’ Wunmi Mosaku and the Actor Awards nominee newcomer, Teyanna Taylor. Taylor’s performance is part of the record-breaking seven nominations for the box office heavy hitter, “One Battle After Another”.

Of course, paired with every great leading lady are the acclaimed performances by Hollywood's top leading men, who are stirring up lots of pre-oscar buzz.

Fresh off his Critics Choice Award Best Actor win, Timothée Chalamet (“Marty Surpreme”) will go head to head with Leonardo Dicaprio (“One Battle After Another”), Ethan Hawke (“Blue Moon”), Michael B. Jordan’s dual role (“Sinners”) and his fellow Friday Nights alum, Jesse Plemons (“Bugonia”).

Rounding out the big categories, Miles Canton (“Sinners”), Jacob Elordi (“Frankenstein"), Paul Mescal ("Hamnet"), and "One Battle After Another” co-stars, Sean Penn and Benicio Del Toro.

All received nods for Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Supporting Role.

But what’s a legendary night without film icon Harrison Ford?

The fast whip and “Galaxy far far away” legend, known for his action-packed roles in the Indiana Jones and Star Wars franchises, will be presented with the Life Achievement Award.

Ford is the 61st actor to receive the SAG-AFTRA’S highest honor.

The Actor Awards will stream live Sunday, March 1 at 8 p.m. EST/ 5 p.m. PT on Netflix.

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Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Leading Role

JESSIE BUCKLEY / Agnes - "HAMNET"

ROSE BYRNE / Linda - "IF I HAD LEGS I'D KICK YOU"

KATE HUDSON / Claire - "SONG SUNG BLUE"

CHASE INFINITI / Willa - "ONE BATTLE AFTER ANOTHER"

EMMA STONE / Michelle - "BUGONIA"

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Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Supporting Role

ODESSA A’ZION / Rachel Mizler - "MARTY SUPREME"

ARIANA GRANDE / Glinda - "WICKED: FOR GOOD"

AMY MADIGAN / Gladys - "WEAPONS"

WUNMI MOSAKU / Annie - "SINNERS"

TEYANA TAYLOR / Perfidia - "ONE BATTLE AFTER ANOTHER"

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Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Television Movie or Limited Series

CLAIRE DANES / Agatha Wiggs - "THE BEAST IN ME"

ERIN DOHERTY / Briony Ariston - "ADOLESCENCE"

SARAH SNOOK / Marissa Irvine - "ALL HER FAULT"

CHRISTINE TREMARCO / Manda Miller - "ADOLESCENCE"

MICHELLE WILLIAMS / Molly - "DYING FOR SEX"

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Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Drama Series

BRITT LOWER / Helly - "SEVERANCE"

PARKER POSEY / Victoria Ratliff - "THE WHITE LOTUS"

KERI RUSSELL / Kate Wyler - "THE DIPLOMAT"

RHEA SEEHORN / Carol - "PLURIBUS"

AIMEE LOU WOOD / Chelsea - "THE WHITE LOTUS"

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Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Comedy Series

KATHRYN HAHN / Maya Mason - "THE STUDIO"

CATHERINE O'HARA / Patty Leigh - "THE STUDIO"

JENNA ORTEGA / Wednesday Addams - "WEDNESDAY"

JEAN SMART / Deborah Vance - "HACKS"

KRISTEN WIIG / Maxine Simmons - "PALM ROYALE"

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Check out the full list of the Actor Awards here.

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Makhyli Simpson learned what success looked like before she was old enough to drive. By 15, she had moved to Los Angeles. By 16, she had signed a major record deal. And as a member of Boys World, she reached global audiences, collaborated with major brands, and became a familiar face to millions. But this next chapter is different. In this candid Q&A, Makhyli speaks openly about stepping out on her own, navigating mental health, unlearning industry expectations, and creating music that reflects who she truly is today. What emerges is a portrait of an artist choosing vulnerability, autonomy, and truth — inviting us to witness her evolution in real time.

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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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