Spread the Love

By Hailey Stangebye

Photos courtesy of Bryant Anthony

Bryant Anthony wears his heart on his sleeve.

His work creates spaces for openness and vulnerability — something, Bryant says, we need more than ever in this time and place.

But it wasn’t always easy for Bryant to be open. He grew up on the east side of Cleveland. That environment forced him to wear a mask because “it wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows.”

“I’ve just seen a lot,” Bryant says. “It made me aggressive. Angry. They say you’re a product of your environment. Sometimes, that can be true. I did a lot of street art and graffiti art. I didn’t see anything wrong with it because that’s what I saw growing up. That was art. The streets were my gallery.”

“I did a lot of street art and graffiti art. I didn’t see anything wrong with it because that’s what I saw growing up. That was art. The streets were my gallery.” 

Bryant has created art for as long as he can remember. He went from drawing paper soldiers as a child to graffiti as a young teen. At 14 years old, he got his first job at an airbrush shop.

“I actually got into airbrushing because I got into trouble. The police officer was like, ‘Man, you’re talented. You’re a really talented kid,’” Bryant says. “He knew a family friend that airbrushed.”

Throughout high school, Bryant continued to hone his craft. He started by airbrushing t-shirts, but soon found himself airbrushing shoes, cars and motorcycles. He moved to Columbus to study at the Columbus College of Art and Design, where he is close to completing his illustration degree.

Bryant says that Columbus didn’t welcome him with open arms. At least at first.

“Galleries here have said my work was too ‘street’ or ‘too urban.’ I’ve heard that a lot,” Bryant says. “Unfortunately, I had to leave Ohio to get recognition. I have more exposure in the Miami and L.A. areas than anything. The feedback I get from them is two times more than what I get from Ohio.”

“Galleries have said my work was too ‘street’ or ‘too urban.’ I’ve heard that a lot. Unfortunately, I had to leave Ohio to get recognition.”

Now that Bryant has national recognition, Columbus has slowly warmed up to his style. But there’s still a long road ahead.

Through all of his challenges, Bryant recognized a theme: People across Ohio and the world are hungry for love and acceptance. This idea became the impetus for his current campaign — Spread More Love.

“Spread More Love is about giving the people their hearts back,” Bryant says. “At the very foundation of love is to be kind and respectful toward one another. I think we’re all supposedly taught that as a child. ‘Treat others the way you want to be treated.’ It has nothing to do, necessarily, with loving a partner or a spouse or marriage or anything like that. It has to do with the base of human interaction. Be kind to one another. If you need a hug, give a hug.”

“It has nothing to do, necessarily, with loving a partner or a spouse or marriage or anything like that. It has to do with the base of human interaction. Be kind to one another. If you need a hug, give a hug.”

Sometimes Bryant receives pushback against his campaign. People ask him, ‘Why are you, a grown man, painting red and pink hearts?’

The cure for that resistance is dialogue. Once Bryant explains his motivation behind the campaign and the struggles he’s overcome from growing up in Cleveland, he can melt hearts.

“The toughest guys conform at that very moment,” Bryant says. “It’s not that they’re putting on a facade, but so many people are told, ‘Be tough, be strong,’ you know? Especially with men. I feel like we have to live up to that stigma.”

Bryant says his work has the power to pull people out of their shells. It’s a space where it’s not only acceptable to be vulnerable, it’s encouraged.

Spread More Love fit like a glove with the goals of the Harlem Renaissance celebration in Columbus.

“I realized that people of the Harlem Renaissance did it for themselves and nobody else,” Bryant says. “They showed each other love because they couldn’t get love from the outside world.”

“I realized that people of the Harlem Renaissance did it for themselves and nobody else. They showed each other love because they couldn’t get love from the outside world.”

One of his latest projects, a mural called ‘Spread More Love,’ is at 1033 N. High St. It will be featured at the upcoming Harlem Renaissance Gallery Hop.

Bryant hopes that this piece makes people pause, take a picture and Spread More Love.

“Show some love. Spread More Love. Because, right now, we’re in a crazy time and a crazy place. I feel like everybody needs to show more love and receive more love.”

Bryant’s Work

Drawn to Create

By Hailey Stangebye

Photos courtesy of Narel Argaw

It all started in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia at the Russian Center for Science and Culture. Or, as it was known locally, “The Pushkin Venue.”

Amidst the sprawling galleries and art shows, walked a journalist and his wife. She was eight months pregnant. They had recently moved their family from Moscow to Addis Ababa. That night, the woman tripped on a stair and fell. Though she recovered with ease, that memory at The Pushkin Venue remained. Unbeknownst to the young couple, their child, Narel, would grow up to be inexplicably drawn to this epicenter of artistic expression.

Narel Argaw says he used to get into mischief as a child.

“I used to skip school and go over to the Pushkin Hall, across the street, to watch the art shows and the galleries,” Narel says.

The Russian Center for Science and Culture, or “The Pushkin Venue,” in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.

At the time, he was only 8 or 9 years old. He would worry his parents by spending all day at The Pushkin Venue before walking home late into the night. Once his father discovered where Narel spent all of his hours, he remembered the nights he walked down those halls with his wife and said, “You know? I used to bring your mom in here.”

Not long after, Narel enrolled in a summer arts course at The Pushkin Venue. He’s been honing his craft as an artist, photographer and film-maker ever since.

Narel and his family moved from Ethiopia to California when he was a teenager. When he graduated high school, his family was dealing with the aftermath of the Great Recession. His family moved to Columbus, where his uncle lived, to seek out new opportunities.

This is the place where Narel devoted himself to his art.

“I was running away from art,” Narel says. “The more I came back to it, I started noticing that a lot of good things started happening. Then I was like, ‘This makes my soul happy.’”

“I was running away from art. The more I came back to it, I started noticing that a lot of good things started happening. Then I was like, ‘This makes my soul happy.'”

“For me, the more I grew up, the more I noticed that I have less time left,” Narel says. “I don’t want to make this dark, but what I mean by that is that you have one life to live and every day is a chance. Every day you wake up in the morning, that’s a new day. That’s a new chance. Why would I want to do something that I don’t like or I don’t enjoy not knowing what’s going to happen tomorrow?”

Narel says that his artwork is strongly influenced by the culture in which he was raised.

“There was a lot of Russian influences in our house because my parents lived for about 10 years in Moscow,” Narel says. “There was a lot of literature my dad translated from Russian to Ethiopian to English. My dad was a journalist. If you’re a journalist, you’re bound to be friends with artists, musicians and everything. So he had stacks of paintings and rolled up sketches in the house that were gifted to him.”

Russian art, Ethiopian culture, the Bay Area arts scene — all of these experiences continue to shape what Narel creates in Columbus.

“I’m very proud of my culture. I’m proud of where I’m from and my background,” Narel says. “All of those influences really shaped me to be somebody.”

For one of his latest projects, Narel created a mural for the Harlem Renaissance’s upcoming mural series. For this piece, he threw himself into the history of the Harlem Renaissance and was “blown away.” Narel says he designed the mural to be a collage of the era, rich with elements of color, jazz and hope.

“I’m 100 percent sure that I see myself being great with art. Anything else I try to do just seems to fall apart because that’s not what I’m meant to do,” Narel says. “I do art to be alive. It makes me feel alive.”

“I’m 100 percent sure that I see myself being great with art. Anything else I try to do just seems to fall apart because that’s not what I’m meant to do. I do art to be alive. It makes me feel alive.”

Narel’s Work