Ronald Draper is a mixed-medium artist from Harlem who left his job as a paralegal to pursue art full-time. His artwork uses quotes from revolutionaries and celebrities to inspire and motivate viewers. Draper discusses how growing up in Harlem influences his artwork, though he wants it to appeal to all people, not just Black audiences. He is passionate about using his art and nonprofit work to uplift the Harlem community and help those in need.
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Ronald
Draper:
Harlem’s
New
Renais-
sance
Man
Writer: Christina Santi
Photographer:Nicholas Nichols
Keeping an air of confidence and
astuteness alive is Ronald Draper,
a 20-something year-old, mixed-
medium artist, philanthropist, and
teacher who self proclaims to be
“Harlem to the Death.” Draper
shares with us the messaging
behind his art, what it means to be
a Black creative in a culture where
Blackness not only affects your
day-to-day, but also may limit how
people perceive your work.
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I
t is a breezy November
night when I take the 1 train
uptown to Harlem to have
a chat with my longtime
acquaintance, Draper, in his
apartment. The apartment,
upon entering someone
would think, was really an
art studio that was subtlety
trying to disguise itself as
a home, and not the other way around. It
would be any creative’s dream. Other peo-
ple’s works hang across his Black and white
striped walls. Like with most of his com-
missioned clients, we sit on Black leather
as he offers me samples of cheesecake, a
mason jar of water, and we begin a very
comfortable and inviting conversation. We
do not only discuss his artwork but he also
asks me about work and how things have
been going for me. He tells me about his
girlfriend and we laugh at how being an
artist has affected their home. There are
large pieces of wood lying across the floor,
and unfinished pieces of artwork stationed
throughout the living room and the spare
bedroom in the back of the apartment, as
Draper prepares for his latest show that
will take place on his birthday. The giver he
is, only Draper would throw an art show in
place of having a birthday party.
As we sit adjacent one another, Draper
runs down ideas about what his students
should be doing in class that coming
Thursday, as if keeping a mental litany of
things to get done. He complains about the
amount of emails he has to answer now
that this art thing has become his main gig.
Draper embodies the American Dream.
He is a St. John’s graduate who was work-
ing in a law firm as a paralegal, until he
gave up what most would consider an
ideal situation of job security to pursue his
dreams as an artist. He tells me, “I’m more
busy now than I’ve ever been.” But for the
first time in years, this is someone who looks
refreshed and contented as I watch them dole
through all the work they have to get done.
His happiness with his new career permeates
off of his skin and reflects itself in his art.
The decision to start placing his energy
back into art came two years ago and is
attached to the loss of his father. Now he
is a commissioned artist whose purpose
is to inspire through the words of other
revolutionaries, from the likes of Gandhi to
Muhammad Ali. Draper takes a deep breath
and belies the idea that he’s a new artist, “I’ve
always been into art as a kid. I went to the
Art and Design High School on 56th Street.
If you really knew me you’d understand that
this is what I was doing before college. How-
ever, Art school ruins you because you have
to learn all the basics and it takes all the fun
out of it. It goes from being expressionism to
being a formality - you lose your love for it.
That way of expressing myself was gone for 8
years after I graduated high school in 2004.
The tragic loss of my father pushed me back
to my old ways. All I knew when that hap-
pened was to go to something familiar and
for me that was art. I had to feel something
familiar to combat the unfamiliar and this is
what we have now. I started with little things,
small glass mirrors, small pieces of wood and
now we have things that won’t fit in some
people’s rooms.”
Like so many, Draper is a man with a
personal history that he uses to fight the
odds against what people would perceive of
him because of what he looks like and where
he comes from. In an atmosphere where
people are arguing about the cultural erasure
of Blackness in so many art forms, Draper
wants you to know he is so much more than
just a Black artist. He wants to let kids from
urban neighborhoods know that there are
other ways to change your life outside of rap,
basketball and fashion. A proponent of social
change, he is the organizer, partner, founder
and one-fourth of the leadership team of
Take Care of Harlem, a program that spends
time feeding the hungry in Harlem and do-
ing so much more to uplift the community.
So often in media, Black representation is
skewed by stereotype and image even when
a person of color defies societal odds to
become someone great. Your past sometimes
overshadows your present but Draper seems
to be the voice that shouts over the percep-
tions of the negative.
As he says, “Harlem has all these new hot
spots but there are still people starving and
begging for food on the train. If I’m good, ev-
eryone around me should have the opportu-
nity to be good as well.”
Do you think there’s a difference in being a
Black creative?
We’re all the same. We all pick from different
things in our lives, but from the outside look-
ing in, Hell Yeah! Everyone thinks that Black
creatives do Black art. I hate the term Black
art and I hate that it’s a genre. There’s no
white art, there is Asian art but that’s more
for the aesthetic. I don’t like that Black art
or any art is put into boxes, [we] should just
let art be art. Once you’re across the creative
fence it’s all the same.
In that case, does being a Black man not
have an affect on your art?
Yes, I can say it has an affect on my art. I’m
trying to think if I was white and grew up
in the same circumstances, would I be the
same? Then again, I don’t think my art is
geared toward [just] the Black experience.
It’s affected my art because of my influences,
my story; Malcolm X is one of my biggest
influences, so obviously, the Black experience
has something to do with it. To the naked eye
[my Blackness] has an affect on my work, but
creatives are all the same and just choosing
different ways to express themselves, if you
take a deeper look at it.
Do you then make it a conscious effort not
to include race directly in your work?
My work is art that comes from a Black
man. That’s where the difference lies, people
believe Black art is made for Black people. I
come from a place where my experiences as
a Black man have influenced my art heavily
but it’s not only made for Black people. My
art comes from the Black experience but it
doesn’t only exist within the Black experi-
ence. You don’t have to know the Black expe-
rience to know what my art feels like.
What is the purpose of your art?
The purpose has always been the same since
day one. My art’s purpose is to house the
goodness of humanity. Everything I do is
to serve a bigger purpose than just present-
ing visuals. This is how I feel, this is what
humanity can be doing, and this is what
motivates me. My art is to make a person
feel better, it is to motivate. My art is to wake
you up when you don’t feel like getting up
for work. My art is to push you through that
last set of reps in the gym, to stay up for that
last hour studying for your LSAT. My art is
to push you to be the best person you can be.
As I was once told, my art is, “A reminder to
you to be your greater self.”
Do we see who Draper is in his artwork?
If you look through the timeline of my work
you’ll see different phases I’ve been through.
You’ll see me pushing; some work is conven-
tional and true to Draper. In some work it
is evident that I went somewhere different,
but it’s all-dependent on the story and how a
specific story affects me. I’m passionate so I
tune into a client’s idea. You see my growth,
my experimentation, and the message I want
to get across. I tell my client’s stories through
my crazy brain. You see a little bit of me be-
cause it’s someone else’s story as told by me.
Do you have a favorite piece that you’ve
done?
That’s like asking who my favorite child is,
even though I don’t have children. If I had to
pick, the one I have that was on display dur-
ing my last show is 4 x 8 feet. I never named
it but if I had to describe it, it’s 4 panels, huge
with color. That piece was my drop cloth, I
ripped it apart when it was time to go and
I turned it into something. I see that piece
and I see two years of growth, I see two years
of work – sweat, blood, and tears. I’ve cut
myself and bled on there. That’s the one piece
the most of me. It’s funny because that’s the
one piece where you couldn’t tell. Everybody
was like “Oh My God, You’re going to ab-
stract work!” It’s like, “No.” My work is never
abstract it may seem that way to someone
but it is very purposeful. Every line is there
for a reason.
Does it bother you that people can con-
trive their own meaning into your inten-
My art’s purpose
is to house
the goodness
of humanity.
Everything I do is
to serve a bigger
purpose than
just presenting
visuals.
NEW ARTIST
3. Athens: New Ren - SPRING 2015 13
tional work?
It used to but the quotes make my work
non-abstract. If it was abstract I would leave
it as is, but the quote brings it. One specific
quote I remember is “creativity is allowing
yourself to make mistakes, art is knowing
which one to keep.” That’s my drop cloth. I
can see mistakes I’ve made on there, I can
see epiphanies I’ve had while working on the
drop cloth. I can see things that have gone
wrong, mistakes I’ve made and no one can
see that. It’s okay, but if you read that quote
and you really look at what it is, my art tells
you what it is. I feel like it’s hard to misinter-
pret my artwork because the quotes tell you
what it is.
You do a lot of pieces on revolutionaries
and celebrities, is there a realm of celebrity
you won’t touch? Though your work is
someone else’s story through your eyes are
there limits and politics to what you do?
Of course! I tell people “no” all the time.
You know how many people have cursed me
out because I didn’t want to do something?
I’m shying away from the celebrity thing
because a lot people [are] celebrities because
they feel it will affect someone, that people
will love their work because [they have] a
certain celebrity. My work was never meant
to be that. My work exists more so to be their
words, that celeb is only on a piece because
they have said something. If that person had
nothing meaningful to contribute to human-
ity they would not be there. There have been
people trying to do random quotes or the
usual, “F**k B****** Get Money,” bullshit.
I’ve turned down a lot of work because
people don’t like the quotes and I say, “Well,
I’m the wrong person for you sweetheart.”
Or some people question if all my work has
to have words on them and yes it does. I
have my rules. My work is my work, if you
want someone else’s work feel free to go to
someone else. People need to understand
that if they are coming to me, it is because
they trust me to do my job. At this point,
it’s obvious that my work has a theme to it.
If people come to me and ask me to do some-
thing different than who I am as far as my
story and my message, they get told “no” all
the time. People feel like since they have the
money that I’m supposed to make what they
want. My art was never about the money.
This is what I do for a living, but money is
just a byproduct of what I do. I’m not doing
this just for the money.
Do you see longevity in your art? Where
do you see it going and where do you want
it to be?
I can’t speak on that because it’s only been
two years. My art has a chance to last long
because it makes you feel a certain way. It’s
not just a nice decoration hanging on the
wall. It will take you back to a point in your
life that will allow you to remember how you
managed to survive a crucial moment. It will
remind you why you even wanted to capture
a moment with a piece of art, or it will help
to uplift you from those moments when you
need the motivation to hold your head high.
You’ll never forget how things make you feel.
My message will always be the same, now
it’s just a matter of reaching more people. It’s
private houses, commercial spaces, hotels,
and bigger restaurants. Much longer, much
more impact, just a little crazier.
MUSIC
Stand!
O
n August 9, 2014, Michael
Brown succumbed to
the disease that has been
spreading across the nation. So effec-
tive is this scourge that it has quickly
become a leading cause of death for
young, unarmed black Americans. So
pervasive that it is sometimes con-
fused for natural causes. Eric Garner
lost his battle to the illness, savoring
his last breath on July 17, 2014. Ama-
dou Diallo could outrun the virus no
more, getting overtaken on February
4, 1999. Rekia Boyd, Aiyanna Jones,
and the names continue to go on…
what is the potent killer…
A bullet from an Officer’s handgun
or the long arms of the law.
The reveal was probably not as cli-
matic or shocking to those who have
followed the news this past year, espe-
cially during the summer. However, it
is a fact that cannot be overlooked or
overstated. There is a war outside and
so far it is being waged against the
black body, with taxpayers’ money.
This battle has been raging for over
four hundred years; flaring up in
specific localities at times only to
remind us that it is present. Frederick
Douglas fought it; Marcus Garvey
resisted it; Martin Luther King Jr. and
Malcolm X tried to eradicate it. Huey
P. Newton and Bobby Seale, channel-
ing Nat Turner’s spirit, fought against.
What the Black Panther Party for
Self-Defense represents has been
extensively discussed and felt across
every facet of American life. Six
young adults created one of the most
influential black organizations to ever
take root; changed the entire notion
of political representation; and uni-
fied a people used to being bruised
and battered to stand up for them-
Writer: James N. Elliott
NEW ARTIST