When Beyoncé Calls, You Say Yes
Meet Conrad Egyir, The In-Demand Artist Featured In Black Is King.
It’s a strange time to be an artist right now. Most shows have been postponed or sit in empty galleries or museums. The news cycle changes daily, making it hard to block out the noise in a studio when distraction is the greatest enemy for making work. But somehow in quarantine, Conrad Egyir has managed to have one of the hottest moments of his career, thanks to Beyoncé, who featured his work in the spectacular visual album, Black Is King.
“All of the sudden my phone started blowing up. Blowing up! I had about 120 people in my DMs asking me, did you know this happened? And were saying congrats!” said Egyir from his metro Detroit studio, where he’s been making art since receiving his masters at Cranbrook Academy of Art in 2018.
The call actually came last fall from his mega San Francisco gallery, Jessica Silverman Gallery, when he was told that Jay-Z and Beyoncé were interested in acquiring two of his paintings for a music video.
“Little did I know that it was going to be for Black Is King. And little did I know that it was going to be for this big of a project,” said Egyir.
The pieces they were interested in were two large scale works that go side by side from his 2019 solo show, Ameliorations, called “Paragons of Rest: The Steadfast and Luxuriate” and a second one called “Unctions of the Luminaries.”
But by the time their team had gotten around to securing the work, the works had sold. Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s art team then reached out to the collector who had purchased the work to see if the work could be loaned for the shoot, but at the point COVID-19 put a second snag in the plan with shipping logistics uncertain. They would need to find another way.
“They reached out asking if they could print out a replica of the piece and have that in the shoot. I gave them permission and then I totally forgot about it until a couple of weeks ago,” said Egyir.
In the video, Mood 4 Eva, the painting sitting behind Beyoncé as she lounges in a loveseat, is actually a print of the original work. “Which in a way was cool, because when you think about it, their art team was so drawn to these pieces that they didn’t even ask to see if I had extra inventory that they could use,” said Egyir. “In a way that was a good testimony to how much influence this piece had in that specific video shoot.”
It’s a good thing, too, because in fact, Egyir has been in such demand that even if Beyoncé and Jay-Z wanted other work, they’d be out of luck.
“I am currently out of inventory, because everything, fortunately, is placed with good collectors and institutions. Now I’m trying to create more work and hopefully [Beyoncé] is able to find something down the line.”
“I feel indifferent about it (the Black Lives Matter movement and COVID-19) I haven’t really been phased with what’s happening.”
When Egyir is in the studio, he typically turns off text messages, takes a break from Instagram and tries his best to shut out the noise, which can be particularly difficult in the current political environment, where it’s hard to strike a balance between being both informed and not letting the news get in the way of the work.
“I feel indifferent about it,” he said, when asked about how the Black Lives Matter movement and COVID-19 have impacted his life. “I haven’t really been phased with what’s happening. It’s alarming, it’s heartbreaking, it’s painfully moving. We still collectively persevere and survive through the highs and lows that we go through. I’ve been trying to stay safe, and stay and just get the work done while also being empathetic to what’s happening out there with people, you know. But it hasn’t really affected me personally. If anything, it’s made me more aware and much more grateful because I’m alive and I still have the chance and opportunity to keep doing what I’m doing.”
Egyir, who was born and raised in Ghana before moving to the states shortly before college at 19, has a unique perspective of American racism being a native of Ghana and now, a US citizen.
“It’s always surprising, grappling with the fact that America advertises itself as the pioneer and champions of the progressive world. You know, it’s one that professes to have the richest democratic conglomerate and likes to quantify and qualify intelligence. Yet this whole notion of having the highest IQ wasn’t a concept for me when I was in Ghana until I came to the states,” he said. “So one of my questions is, how do we as a nation—and I include myself because I became a citizen a few years ago—so how do we as nation, who profess to have this higher level of intelligence, still destroy the fabric of this nation with something as trivial as differentiations of skin tone, right? It’s very hypocritical.”
While he doesn’t consider himself an activist (“In a way, if we all vote, by definition, we are all activists but do I identify as an activist? I wouldn’t use that term.”), instead he channels his thoughts and power into his work, which is inherently deeply political.
“I would say my work is a culmination of using historical and biblical narratives and Afro-centric narratives in a more contemporary setting with political and religious eruditions that focus on themes of power and themes of empathy,” he explained.
“How do we as nation, who profess to have this higher level of intelligence, still destroy the fabric of this nation with something as trivial as differentiations of skin tone, right?”
While looking at one of his pieces, it’s so obvious he has a unique and stunningly clear voice that tells his stories centering around metaphors of migration through the breathtaking scenes featuring characters placed in postage stamps, postcards, notebook and memorabilia. It’s work that is both in demand and more prevalent than ever.
“I feel like all of the sudden, especially this summer, I have seen a rise in so many Black artists or so many of us out here right now painting Black figures that sort of look similar. It’s hard to tell who is who now. There’s also been this train of collectors or institutions wanting to acquire black work now, especially Black figurative work, because black figuration is political even more so in this social climate.”
The creation of each piece begins with a title before a brush stroke hits the canvas; perhaps it’s a song lyric he heard or a phrase a friend uttered. Once he has an idea of the story he wants to tell he sets up a photoshoot, usually with a friend or a family member portraying a character or multiple characters in a scene. There are wardrobe changes and different poses, usually taking place either at his studio or at the subject’s residence, lasting an hour to three, depending on the complexity of the narrative. Next he puts the photos into photoshop, where he works on his sketches, tinkering with skin tones and the format of what the final canvas will look like, perhaps it will look like a postcard and he’ll need to consider perforations on the side of the frame and how it will all be fabricated. And only once he’s confident in his vision, will he project the creation on the canvas and begin painting. Last, he adds other elements such as laser cut reliefs where you can feel the words across the surface of the canvas, crystals, glitter or synthetic flowers.
He’s deeply dedicated to his craft, something he’s known he’s wanted to do since he was five years old growing up in Accra, the capital of Ghana, with his parents. When he was ten they moved to the states and he was cared for by relatives in a different region of the country.
“Back in Ghana, all I knew to do was make art,” he said. “That’s the first time I realized I wanted to achieve art as a full time thing, not out of privilege. Once in a while, I’ll hear people in the states talk about how they’re privileged to be in the art world. It wasn’t a privilege. It was my only strong suit in communication. I wasn’t big on reading and writing. My parents weren’t all that rich or all that wealthy where I decided to take on art as some sort of luxury or privilege. It was basically out of survival and out of drive.”
That drive continued when he made it to the states in 2008. He worked at a meat factory plant, a mobile phone company factory and various other jobs to pay for school. “I was working at basically these second shift, third shift, night shift factories, working on assembly lines putting stuff together,” he said. “I was getting kicked out of school for not being able to pay my tuition. I’d work on the side, take a whole semester out, come for one semester and then get kicked out again and go work again and try to secure some funds.”
When he graduated and decided to give art school a shot at Cranbrook, the hustle continued when his financial aid package only paid for half the tuition. “I remember during my second year I was working like five different jobs,” he said. “I was tutoring art in the Detroit public schools as an art instructor, I was also a laser technician working at a fabrication shop, I was on student council, I was a dorm assistant for that dorm and I was also working at a museum as an exhibitions preparator.”
“Once in a while, I’ll hear people in the states talk about how they’re privileged to be in the art world. It wasn’t a privilege. It was my only strong suit in communication...It was basically out of survival and out of drive.”
And now, he’s finally able to make art full time.
“I remember watching Beauty and the Beast, and The Lion King the most,” he said, thinking back to his childhood in Ghana, which gained independence from the British in 1957. Growing up there were still many remnants of the colonial past, which meant his first memories of art were watching the Cartoon Network and Disney Channel, filled by mostly white cartoon characters.
“I also remember the first time seeing Black characters in a cartoon and it was an ad talking about how kids shouldn’t skip school to do drugs. What impacted me was seeing how all those characters were Black. Up until that point, everything I saw in terms of cartoons were white. Hercules, Scooby Doo, The Flintstones, The Jetsons.”
Now, he’s able to tell the stories he wants to see portrayed. It can feel a bit surreal thinking back to his childhood watching The Lion King movie voiced by mostly white actors to now being featured in Beyonce’s The Lion King-inspired visual album, Black Is King.
“Yeah,” he said. “Like that Lion King song—it always comes full circle.”