[ Artist / Within ] Inside his humble Jersey apartment, Leroy unveils the journey behind crafting his first mixed media collection, revealing how his youthful defiance has opened doors for him
Photography by me
There are people you meet and quickly accept as walking anomalies. Not in the sense of being wrong or obstructive to the norm, but as individuals navigating the vast world of creativity and undefinable artistry. Leroy is one of those people, and upon meeting him, I could sense that we shared a similar creative energy.
It turns out, aside from both training for the same first half marathon, our creative worlds and self-perception within them are remarkably similar. I struggle to pinpoint exactly what Leroy does because he belongs to a unique group of individuals who don't just do but rather be the work they create. His work and art are rooted in intrinsic stories that only he can truly understand and share with others. I relate to this role so much as an artist because I, too, have grappled with defining what I do and who I am when the work simply feels like a calling. In our conversation, random and rambled as it may seem, I discovered insights into my own struggles and what it means to be a creative who actively lives out the purpose we set out for ourselves.
There are artists with specific talents and gifts to share with the world and then there are artists who are ambassadors of culture, not driven by a particular gift but rather by particular messages to put forth. In my conversation with Leroy as he builds the foundation of his debut collection in his New Jersey apartment, he opens up about how his life has been a series of fated moments guiding him to trust his intuition in creative endeavors.
You mentioned addressing generational trauma earlier. How does that influence or inspire your work?
Doing that through storytelling, whether it be through music, through fashion, through creative hubs and spaces, conversations.
What are your actions and steps for the storytelling process?
It really starts from within — the story and the process of how is it that I am able to heal myself. Then through that exploration, how am I able to transfer those answers all into one [direction], such as the family I'm building and the family I choose, including my parents. Even now, I’m having those tough conversations trying to learn and understand my family in a different way.
So through music, fashion, and your other creative projects, how does this idea of healing generational trauma translate?
For instance, the [mixed media] collection I'm working on now is rooted in time travel. I had this question [in the back of my mind] that asked, how would my life be different had my father had access to what the future could look like if he didn't make certain decisions? So if you knew that these decisions were going to give you this outcome, what if you had the ability then to time travel and know what that future is going to be like?
Why was your father your subject for this idea?
I think my father's always going to be the subject of my work because I have the potential to very much end up like my dad so through therapy and other things, I try not to [follow his footsteps]. I really don't like my father much but I try to understand his story and why he is the way he is. Now, being a father and being a man, I almost think I respect those choices he made.
How'd you learn about his story?
By asking lots of questions. I was always the kid to ask questions so I’d ask people who knew him in my family. I’m very much like [my son] Zain, where I was extremely talkative and curious. Asking things like, “Why is he acting this way?”, “Why am I seeing him on weekends?” My work is rooted in asking lots of questions. Going back to my collection, one of the biggest inspirations was thinking about a few of my uncles who are schizophrenic and addicts, and introducing that world of otherness. A lot of times with schizophrenia, you realize, “What if this person is actually seeing those things they say they're seeing, but you're blind to it from a spiritual context? What if they're dwindling and in between two different rounds?”
So I find myself asking, “What if these other realms actually exist? What if there's a different version of my father existing somewhere in time?” It’s pondering this idea of quantum reality and time skipping, and that's really what this collection is about: exploring the spiritual context of it all. What if there's a different version of me that has traveled through time? What does that person look like? What does that person wear? What does that space look like? Religion is also a big inspiration.
You begin with this idea of thinking about your father and thinking about this question of, “What would his life look like? Had he known a glimpse of his future?”
No, actually, what would my life look like. How would my life look like now had he known the certain decisions he was making would have this impact on my life?
Okay got it. So your first step is the curiosity — you're sitting down and thinking about all these questions. Then what's the next step to discovering the answer?
These questions just show up in front of me. For instance, I remember I was walking through Little Italy during the San Genarro Festival, and I saw my mother's brother, who's a schizophrenic and a bit of an addict, pushing a shopping cart in the middle of the crowd. It's so crazy because we're walking towards each other but he doesn't see me. He is in his own world where the way he walks through this space almost seems as though he's parting the crowd.
This is about two summers ago and I remember thinking, “Yo, he's not here.” But instead of feeling bad for him…or I don't know, in that moment I just felt so confused. I thought, maybe I should have said something to him but he can be very violent, so you don't know what you're going to get from him.
Unique encounters like that happen all the time to me so I genuinely believe that there is another in-between space that not all of us are fully navigating or can fully articulate what we’re experiencing, even in social exchanges and meeting people. There's a reason you meet everyone in your life.
That is very true. I think about it all time — there has to be a method to the madness at some point, whether we truly know what that is or can articulate it or not. In order for us to continue forth and not go insane, we need to believe that there is something bigger that's at least directing or guiding us, which doesn’t have to technically be religious or spiritual, but that concept itself is the only way for us to keep going. Otherwise we'd be in this liminal space of what the fuck is going on?
I wrote somewhere, “How do I know my life's trauma is not in vain?” There's a bigger purpose to all of this. My uncle was not just crazy and going to die but maybe he's a messenger. There's something deeper within him that he needs to — there's essentially a mission, and that's where the military references [in my collection] come in. I wanted to explore this organized chaos between the two worlds: one world is very organized, while the other world that we're currently living in has that juxtaposition between the two.
How do you start organizing these thoughts and ideas, and envision what they’re going to look like?
A lot of times, the designs show up in my dreams. Two nights ago, I had a dream that I was sitting next to Pharrell and he was showing me his collection. I woke up that morning and was like, “Oh shit, this doesn't exist. I can do this. I can create this because it doesn't exist yet.”
A lot of times my dreams show up like that. For instance, I lost my grandmother, who was also an addict, two years ago but she visited me in my dreams and was apologizing for leaving so soon and so abruptly. She just wanted to tell me that she's proud of me. It's really moments like that that helps me continue to channel this [creative] energy and build.
To answer your question about how I physically organize these ideas, I think of a lot of it is about giving myself breaks and some space to simply live, because all of this work is my actual life experience.
How do you know that these ideas are going to appear to you in dreams or other mode of visions?
I think I've been creative long enough to trust in my process so I trust that it's going to come to me. The people I've shadowed can build a concept and know the meaning of the concept prior to building it. But for me, I build the concept and know the meaning later or while I'm working on the project. My intuition is a big part of my work. I listen to that voice that tells me things like, “Do this or do that, put it together this way.” Then it hits me, “Oh shit. This is what this meant to me.”
“But I thought, ‘We need to dive into some sort of arts program. Black men don’t need to just run and jump. There are other things that we need to learn, too.’”
I’ve definitely experienced how the meaning of my work doesn’t come until later in the process, but I'm so quick to talk myself out of it because everything and everyone around you is going to require explanation before building a concept. But when you're not ready to explain something that just makes sense to you, it’s difficult to keep that trust and keep going. How are you convincing people about your ideas, solely on your intuition and trust?
It's the intuition and trust, but it's also the work ethic. I study these things. I research — I'm a heavy researcher. So intuition and trust paired with that work discipline is what builds actual confidence. The disciplined part of me allows me to confidently say, “You may not see it yet,” rather than feeling unsure and saying, “I don't know what I'm talking about.” Those are two different things and you choose how to articulate yourself in those two different ways.
Do you think it's the opportunities presented that propel you forward versus holding you back?
I guess so. I've always had to create opportunities for myself.
Originally I started painting but I didn't enjoy that too much. It was cool for the time it lasted that one summer but when I returned to my high school, Eagle Academy for Young Men II, I was just like, “I want to make music.” A part of that was rebelling a bit [as a teenager] but also, I went to an all-boys school, which was really sports driven (I played basketball). But I thought, “We need to dive into some sort of arts program. Black men don't need to just run and jump. There are other things that we need to learn, too.” I really fought with the school for many years until they built a music production program, which they still have now.
Even with our school uniforms, I would come to school with this cut up uniform and wear these cool cardigans just so I could mix up the uniform. And they couldn’t expel me for being out of uniform because I was still wearing the uniform. I even started to form [a rebellion group], and we wouldn’t wear our uniforms on certain days. I would lead these riots and the school would respond with, “No one's getting lunch.” But my [high school] principal was tired of fighting with me so he said, “How about you design our uniform’s tie for next year?”
The way I saw it was either you give me what I want or I'm going to continue to raise hell. But that's how I ended up meeting one of my very good mentors now who brought me into the fashion world.
Now, my biggest challenge is how to allow my intuition to lead me without my ego getting in the way. I want to articulate myself so that people understand the importance of what I'm trying to convey, rather than always feeling the need to defend my ideas. I'm tired, I don't want to fight for my ideas anymore.
How do you get to that point where you're not constantly fighting for your ideas?
I think having a family helps that a lot. I think being in a relationship and having a family has taught me to step back and allow things to unfold naturally without feeling the need to control every outcome. It's about letting go of fear and letting go of that need for constant control. Through that, I learned about the value of patience in this process.
“If I’m not honest with myself, I don’t get to the next step. It’s kind of like a mission. I see my work as a mission where each step confronts vulnerability and honesty.”
When your ideas for your collection came to you through visions, how did you pitch it to your team?
Initially, the original pitch was inspired by this book called The Warmth of Other Suns, which speaks to the African-American experience of migrating from New York to the South. From this book, I thought, “Okay, what if some of our ancestors traveled up North? What if the rest of them traveled to space [instead]?” That's when I began pondering about quantum reality and this idea of other worldliness. I’d pitch my idea like that to other people and they were like, “Oh shit, that's fire.” But I also didn't think the concept was deep enough [to pursue] so I kept doing research. The original idea came about two years ago so I've been working on this project for about two years [in addition to the questions I’ve asked about my father all my life].
Do you find that as your ideas progress towards completion, they maintain the integrity of your original vision? Once you start involving others and investing resources, the project's direction can evolve. How do you ensure the integrity of your vision throughout this process? Have your past projects stayed true to your initial vision?
I don't fully grasp everything I'm doing until it's time to close a project. Only then can I fully articulate the process so inevitably, the project has to remain true because I'm present for every step of the process, even if I don't fully understand the concept yet. If I'm not honest with myself, I don't get to the next step. It's kind of like a mission. I see my work as a mission where each step confronts vulnerability and honesty.
What makes now the time to create your first collection?
The initial idea for me was to design a collection for my high school. I kept envisioning this collection being showcased, whether at my high school or elsewhere. To get to this point, certain things had to happen, like my transition from Brooklyn Circus at that time.
My life can't be rooted in lack so I’m always like, “Let's create, let's shoot.” And if we make it, we make it. If we don't, we learn from it. So I guess what got me here is just…life.
Are you still designing uniforms and where did your woodworking initially come from?
Aside from the work that I currently do, I also work with my mentor Ronald Draper, who has helped me learn how to build things on my own like this [work] table right here. He also does production and manufacturing for schools, but mainly, he builds these wall murals out of his handwriting and I'm the only other person who can imitate his handwriting so I end up leading the production for his murals.
Where are you in your current process of building this mixed media collection?
So many things. I'm shaping what I want the world to be like because it’s much deeper than just clothing. The collection can't just be clothing. I'm building the universe for this collection, and simultaneously developing the narrative for my brand, Renee Renelle. I think that's been the biggest struggle, but I'm open to it constantly changing and evolving as I work through the countless iterations of my vision.
What does building this collection’s universe look like?
Honesty, vulnerability, and just openness. A lot of patience. Through these dreams and staying honest and accountable with myself, I'm able to bring this vision to life.
What is your goal with your collection? I know it's sharing out your dream and that mission of breaking generational traumas, but how do you hope that resonates to an audience?
I think this is my version of understanding my trauma without vain. It’s about, “How do I turn this negative experience into something that I can share with the world and can inspire others?”
When envisioning this exhibition and debuting your collection, it must be daunting after dedicating so much time. You have a specific vision of what you want to convey. How do you hope people will experience it?
I want it to be able to reach them whereever they are. I want it to be able to expand far enough that they can reach you, no matter how evolved or unevolved you are. It may be ambitious but how do we touch and cover all bases?
Something I constantly ask myself is how the garments age, and how the story ages over time. Especially when someone is doing a documentary or researching my past work, how do I proudly stand by it? I think the only way to do that is from a place of self-assurance. I didn't go to art or fashion school. I didn't even go to college. I simply told my parents to trust me and interned my way into the industry. So it’s asking myself, “How does all of this contribute to my research and development? How does it all come together?”
What do you envision after launching this collection? What's your next step?
I have no idea, just like I had no idea I'd be here, with my second kid [on the way] in a full-blown relationship and my own apartment. And just as I didn't know I’d leave my parents' house so abruptly or leave Brooklyn Circus.
Referring to spirituality again, I feel like I'd be heavily punished for not following my intuition or my gut; there was never a plan B. I never knew what the plan was to begin with so this is my only direction. If anything, I have audacity, and you have to have the audacity to just get shit done and just be, and go after what it is that you want.
Considering that you didn't have experience in photography, music, design, or fashion initially but had these ideas, do you see these creative pursuits as natural expressions of what you are meant to do? Are they all feeding into your overall vision?
At that time, I think it was different for me compared to now because then, I didn't have the necessary skill sets but I still launched Cold Summer Creative. It was the initial project I worked on but I didn't even know what that was supposed to be; I just knew I wanted to make a T-shirt and show my woodcutting skills. But I think my insecurity lies in not knowing, and I think that's why I research so much. Honestly, my research is rooted in insecurity because I used to fear not knowing the truth. I’d fear that feeling of, “Oh, shit, I didn't know that.” Now, I’ve come to accept that it’s okay not to know everything because nobody does.
Yeah because at the end of the day, it's not about trying to make it make sense for other people. At some point, everyone's going to catch onto your ideas.
And if it makes sense to you, then there are other people like you in the world. A lot of people might not like the clothes [I’m making], but I believe that there are other people like me that are going to appreciate this.
Do you ever anticipate a moment of validation where you'll feel like what you were doing was right?
I don't know. A lot of times, I've felt empty and lost after working hard on something and not experiencing the fulfillment I expected after accomplishing it. I've learned not to chase that feeling because it doesn't provide true fulfillment.
I haven't thought that far in terms of how I’d feel after launching my collection. All I know is that on October 12th, which is my birthday, I want to have an exhibition. I don't know what's happening after that.
What if you're really attached to an idea? As you think about it more and build it up in your head, you become strongly attached and feel the need to see it through exactly as you envisioned. But it's not always going to turn out that way, is it?
I think that's something I struggle with too. For examples, I’ll be designing a piece in my head and I’d get the sample back and think, “This is not what I’d envisioned.” Then I'll be in a funk for two to three days about it and not know what's really bothering me. But I tie it to purpose. It is just like, where did I go wrong? It's like, where did I go wrong? It's just one shirt, but it feels like my whole life is [derailed]. So that's when discipline kicks in, and that's why discipline is so important. I just keep going. Okay, that shirt didn't work out, but what can I do from here?
Then as a creative, what does failure mean?
Not trying my best. Because even if this doesn't happen, I trust that the universe is going to allow something. It was meant to be on the biggest stage, or maybe it's meant to be on the smallest stage, and that smallest stage might have that one individual in the room who's going to change my life.
If you define failure as not giving your all, but aren’t you naturally always going to give your all?
I don't know that I will always give my all because I'm human, and discipline is something that's relatively new to me in my life. So I am building trust with myself through learning, fasting [for Ramadan], and building routines. If any one of those things falls off, being able to pivot and keep pushing forward is part of giving my all. So discipline is a key part of that process.
As a creative, is it possible to operate in this defined structure of routines, or is that different from discipline?
I find that communication plays a big part in discipline. I've never been a big communicator, but I make an effort to communicate when my energy level is low for the day. So by addressing this upfront, I acknowledge what I have to offer rather than feeling like I'm abandoning something because abandonment is failure.
For example, with running, giving it my all doesn't mean that I run every day. Giving it my all is being present and being aware enough to know whether I should run today depending on how it’s going to affect how I run tomorrow.
“A lot of times, I’ve felt empty and lost after working hard on something and not experiencing the fulfillment I expected after accomplishing it. I’ve learned not to chase that feeling because it doesn’t provide true fulfillment.”
What have you learned the most about yourself through this creative evolution?
I can't really say my resilience because I've been resilient in life. From a creative perspective, it's challenging because I've always seen myself as the same person. However, I've grown into a more accountable man over the years. It's crazy waking up at 26 and realizing, "Oh, I'm a man now. I'm a grown ass adult."
I've also learned that I'm able to do it myself. I've cycled through a few teams, a few players, and supporting characters in this process, and they’ve come and gone. Some people I approached said, "I may not have the budget, but I have skills to offer," and we built relationships from there. There were others I considered paying, but it didn't work out, so I ended up doing it all myself. I taught myself pattern-making, fabric selection, and other tasks that others were supposed to handle, which actually saved time. Right now, I feel like this was a sign from God to learn to do things myself. This way, when I do hire someone, I know they're capable. It builds confidence. When you hire people, there's always a risk they might not deliver, but I know I can handle it myself if needed. I've truly discovered that I'm capable and can get the job done.
This is a story from my ongoing artist portrait series and editorial campaign entitled Artist/Within. It is a collection of conversations I’ve captured with the artists in my life, revealing the delicate balance they maintain between their daily routines and the pursuit of their artistic passions.
Read other conversations within the collection here.