Born and raised in Los Angeles, 28-year old artist Rakeem Cunningham is the figure at the center of much of his photography work.
His multimedia practice explores the nuances of the queer Black experience through installation, video, photography and collage. Cunningham often incorporates images from popular culture and personal experience, focusing on queer identity politics, escapism, fantasy, self-acceptance and body politics.
We visited Rakeem Cunningham virtually in his art studio for a look at the work and a conversation about his practice:
Shelley Holcomb (Curate LA): So let’s begin with a little bit about yourself — tell us about your practice and how you got started.
Rakeem Cunningham: I feel like I have a bit of a nontraditional route in terms of how I came into art. When I was in high school, I didn’t really have that many friends, honestly. I used to sit around the groups of people that I wanted to hang out with and just laugh when they made jokes. One day my mom asked me to take pictures of my sister and I fell in love with it. I started going to the park every week near my house and would photograph myself. I didn’t have a tripod or a job or a car. I would get these cardboard boxes and tape them together [for a tripod] and then walk over to the park and take photos. I fell in love with making images and visual imagery. And that’s how I made friends for the first time. People started recognizing me for the work. I ended up going to UCLA. I wanted to work for Vogue, I didn’t want to do any kind of art. Like, “I don’t want to be in a gallery. I want to work for Condé Nast and be a photographer.” I got to work with fashion — fashion models and fashion agencies. As time progressed, I got tired of that.
“I was also exploring my sexuality; I came out in college when I was 21, 22. That really inspired me to do work that I thought was challenging, work that made me uncomfortable”
Rakeem: I got tired of shooting people who were told that they were beautiful all the time. I felt like I couldn’t really connect with that. I felt the more I worked in fashion, the more I lost that connection with myself. So after school, I started doing more self-portraiture and exploring my identity in that way. I was also exploring my sexuality; I came out in college when I was 21, 22. That really inspired me to do work that I thought was challenging, work that made me uncomfortable. I started doing a lot of self-portrait work partially because I didn’t really have anyone else to photograph at two a.m. From there, I wanted to experiment with actual art objects and not just photographs. I started doing some collage work around February 2019.
My studio is right below my bedroom. Every day I would come down and I would finish a collage every two or three days. I have around 150 of them at this point. I really believe that you get better at something by working at it. And if you have a goal, you should just put in the work.
Shelley: Can you talk more about your self portraiture and what it means for you? Is it an exploration of your identity?
Rakeem: I started doing a lot of self portrait work, partially because I didn’t have people to photograph. I didn’t have friends. But at the same time, it was an exploration of myself and learning to accept myself, my body — especially when I left school and started dating and going on dating apps. It was the first time that my appearance, my race and how I talked became super apparent to other people. I got a lot of negative feedback, like many queer Black people get: “you’re too dark,” or, “no fats, no fems,” all of this stuff. It crushed my soul a little bit. I thought when I came out that I was going to be part of this accepting community. But that really wasn’t the case.
I felt attacked all the time, like I wasn’t attractive or that people didn’t find me attractive. So the self portraiture started in a way like, well, if these people don’t find me attractive I’m going to do it for myself. I’m going to make work that makes me feel good, that makes me feel proud to be in my skin. It slowly evolved from taking photographs to validate myself into a way of expressing ideas. Instead of it being about me and my self-esteem, it became more about making fantasies and working in worlds where Black people are able to be free without oppression, free to be their true selves. If I were able to be as extravagant as I want, with the poses and all that, what would that be like? What does that look like in photography?
“With a lot of my sets, I’m making fantasy settings for myself where I’m able to be extravagant and over-the-top, where I’m normally not in real life.
I have really bad anxiety and I get nervous easily. But in these photographs, I’m able to kind of be the superhero. I get to be the protagonist of my own story. I get to use my body as an object.”
There’s also the other part of it, which is using my own body as a way to make my own art canon. When I was at UCLA, the first class I took was modernism. And I learned about primitivism, art made by Black and brown people that was pillaged and colonized and taken and used by Brancusi and Picasso and all these people. So if I’m making work independent of them, or even informed by them to a degree, what does that look like? What does it look like when I’m making that for myself?
“…it became more about making fantasies and working in worlds where Black people are able to be free without oppression, free to be their true selves.”
Shelley: In a lot of the work you’re nude as well.
Rakeem: Yeah. And that’s big. I think of it as, like, that is how my body is at that moment. I’m not trying to Photoshop. I got in trouble when I was doing fashion work because I would tell people “no”, that I wouldn’t Photoshop them or even do retouching. I just gave them the photos as they were. I lost a few jobs that way. But that’s what I believe in. My body is how it looks. And I’m proud of my body at any stage it’s in. I’ve come to love how my body looks, how my arms look, even my OCD scars, I love all of it. I want to communicate that you don’t have to look a certain way or be hyper muscular or light skinned. You can be dark and chubby or dark and have a gut or dark with an “average body,” whatever that means. You can still be sexy and smart and intelligent and fun and colorful. I want to put all of that in the work because I feel like in everyday life, especially now, I’m not allowed to be those things. So I make the work for myself and for other people.
Shelley: I love that. Can we talk a little bit more about your sets and the materials you’re using to make them?
Rakeem: So essentially the sets are done through instinct. I think part of it comes from wanting to be able to paint. I’m very interested in canvas and painting and color and composition; I think most artists are. But I’m technically not a skilled painter, I can admit that. I would love to be. There are things I want to practice, but I’m not technically trained. So what I wanted to do was paint and make compositions, but with fabrics and different textures and images, because those are the kinds of things that I had when I grew up.
So for example, the blue fabric here, with the clouds, I got that one in particular because it reminded me of the photo backgrounds at K-mart from when I was younger and would get photos taken with my cousins. I got this one here because it reminded me of being at the beach, of being calm.
I’ll get things that remind me of my childhood or my culture.
“I’m very proud to say that all of my props and fabrics come from within 10 to 15 miles of where I live. I buy most of the things in the San Fernando Valley, typically at a few different thrift stores, because I want to really pay homage to where I grew up.”
So, for example, this is what we had up in my house growing up, the first kind of art I was exposed to. So I keep that on the wall. Or I get shower curtains like this, that are like the one my grandma had in her shower when I was younger. I try to get things that really speak to me on a personal level.
Shelley: So, would you say that your sets are like internal self-portraits?
Rakeem: That’s actually a great way to describe it.
Shelley: The way you’re applying fabrics in your sets is very collage-like. Even the way that you position your body, it’s interacting with the dimensionality of the installation in a way that feels like a collage in itself.
Rakeem: It’s interesting that you say that, because the reason I started making collages was that I wanted to take the work that was on the wall and make it into something that was almost bite-sized, or an actual object. So I have a few collages here that I can show you.
This was one of the first collages that I made. It’s called “Don’t Tell Me How to Deal With My Own Sexual Assaults.” It’s kind of heavy. When I made this I’d been talking to someone who told me that art should not be about sexual assault or that people who have been assaulted should not make work. I thought it was just the most disrespectful thing to say.
Shelley: And ignorant because so many artists make work to deal with pain. It’s one of the best ways to cope with trauma.
Rakeem: Yeah. I mean, that’s what art is for, what it’s made for. So I made this as a response. All of the characters in this have either dealt with some kind of trauma or sexual trauma.
Rakeem (cont’d): This one is called “Our Power.” It deals with what it was like for me growing up being queer and Black, the feeling of that, and how people feel about it now. I don’t normally put myself in the collages, but here I thought it was relevant. The character in the middle is a guy from “Attack on Titan” and he’s in this situation where he’s really desperate and making this disgusted face.
So I was thinking, okay, what would make this particular character make this face? So I put Yuna from Final Fantasy in her pop-star outfit, and there’s me, being nude, being confident in what I’m doing. There’s two men kissing here and pink all around it. It’s all a reaction to how I was treated when I was younger, to hearing things like, “You’re too feminine,” or, “You’re too this” — and being like, “Okay, bitch, I am feminine. And what are you going to do about it?”
This [character in the middle] represents the kind of people that would be uncomfortable with the things around the border of the collage. The stereotype of a person who would be anti-gay rights. And it’s like…Oh, you feel uncomfortable? I’m going to put all of this shit around here that makes you feel uncomfortable.
Shelley: I feel like that face also feels a bit repressed or even pre-orgasmic. Something else about this piece is that it feels like a birthday cake.
Rakeem: Yes!
Shelley: Was that on purpose?
Rakeem: It was an unintended side effect. But I do like the fact that it looks like frosting because it was a celebration of the fact that I’m owning all of these things. It’s modeling paste [around the edges], which I used because I like to experiment with texture. But it is still flat from the side. Now the collages have a lot more texture. I really wanted to work more with dimension. [holds up another collage as an example]
Shelley: There are so many layers in there.
Rakeem: Yeah, it’s hard to show through the camera, but in person, you can really see the layers. There are usually stories in each layer and it all comes together to convey a message. This one doesn’t have a title just yet. I made it because my boyfriend and I are watching an anime called Evangelion. It deals with parental issues and self-esteem, how you view yourself. I wanted to make something that honored the series, but also all of the characters in it who have dealt with some kind of trauma. So I’m asking myself, what are the things that tie them together through trauma? What can we pull out of those situations? And how do you take all of those things and make something beautiful? A lot of the collage work uses characters as stand-ins for ourselves.
Shelley: Can you talk more about your creative process and its relationship to pop culture?
“I’m really inspired by pop culture: TV shows, anime, music, Twitter, Beyoncé. I think it’s impossible to separate yourself from the culture you live in.”
Rakeem: There’s a perception of artists — that we’re super serious, that we don’t joke or laugh, or that we live like hermits. And that’s not the case. I think a lot of artists are aware of popular culture; we don’t shit on things just because they’re popular. Part of bringing pop culture into my work is to honor the things that were considered art for me growing up. Like watching the Grammys every year to see what Destiny’s Child was going to wear. I think that’s a valid experience that should be honored in a way. So why not put it in the work?
Shelley: Do you feel really vulnerable putting your work out there for the public to consume, to criticize? Do you keep any just for yourself?
Rakeem: For everything I post, I might post two or three pictures, but then there will be around fifty others sitting on a hard drive that no one sees. I definitely get nervous, especially if it’s something that I haven’t worked on before. I’m glad that I still get nervous because it proves you care. But in terms of feeling nervous about the content of the work, I don’t really feel nervous. Not really. I’m an open book. I don’t mind sharing things.
For example, when I was in the throes of OCD, I was very vocal about it. I think it’s important for people to see others dealing with this stuff. So many people have messaged me over the last few years, saying “Thank you for sharing this; thank you for talking about your work.” It’s surreal. I didn’t realize so many people dealt with the same things that I dealt with. So, yes it can be nerve-wracking, but I feel freed by it mostly. The way that the work has connected me with people and connected people to me and to others or even to the help that they need is more than you can ask for.
”With art, I’ve been allowing myself to experiment with things and to move toward things that scare me.”
Shelley: What have you been doing during these times — the pandemic, racial tensions — what are you doing for self-care? Both within your art practice and within yourself personally?
Rakeem: That’s an interesting question because it’s actually something that I struggle with. I’m a workaholic. I love being busy. And I often forget to take care of myself, to be honest with you. I’ve had to learn and am still learning about the importance of taking care of yourself, and of your mental health, too. With art, I’ve been allowing myself to experiment with things and to move toward things that scare me. One of the things that I’ve learned in my OCD therapy is to move towards your anxiety. So if something makes me nervous, I follow it. If something makes you anxious it’s probably because you care about it.
I’ve also been streaming video games. I have a Twitch channel that I started, which is great. It’s been a way to connect with people, but it’s also a way to gather information for the collages. When I go through the games or watch anime, I screenshot a lot because I plan to use the images in future collages. It helps me learn about the characters so I’m able to make work that’s more in depth.
Also, just sitting down and relaxing — allowing myself the time to just do nothing. So many Black people, if not all, have been told that you need to work eight times as hard to get half as much. I have internalized that to my core. I’ve worked myself to the point of losing weight, not eating, letting my mental health slip. I think that sometimes allowing yourself the ability to do nothing is important. I’m a human being and I’m allowed to just relax. And it’s hard to allow yourself that, but I’m slowly learning it.
Follow Rakeem Cunningham on Instagram at @rakeemc and visit Cunningham’s website to see more work. All images courtesy of Rakeem Cunningham.
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