My Delulu Art Goals

I’ve started calling them my delusional art goals not because I don’t believe in them, but because saying them out loud still feels a little rebellious.

These are the goals that make people laugh nervously before saying, “Well… you never know.” The ones that sound too big for polite conversation. The ones that require imagination before evidence.

So here they are.

I want my work to be seen, held, collected, and remembered. I want it in rooms where Black culture is celebrated loudly Essence Fest, BET, Ebony Power100 and in quieter spaces where history is archived, like museum permanent collections and national institutions. I want my paintings to travel: into films, onto TV screens, into international exhibitions, auction houses, and yes, even Art Basel.

I want collectors who believe in the work long-term. I want to sell out limited edition prints. I want a solo exhibition in New York. I want a dream studio that gives me room to think, stretch, and build bodies of work without rushing the process.

Some of my goals are about recognition: awards, prizes, lists that once felt untouchable. Some are about sustainability: six figures, consistent sales, and opportunities that allow me to keep making work without burning out. And some are about impact collaborating with Black-owned businesses, inspiring a new generation of artists, and using my work as a tool for social connection and cultural memory.

I also want to be in conversation with the artists who came before me. I don’t need to be best friends but I wouldn’t mind shaking hands with Mickalene Thomas or Derrick Adams one day, knowing I stayed true to my voice long enough to end up in the same room.

Calling these goals “delusional” gives me freedom. It takes the pressure off pretending I know exactly how they’ll happen or when. It lets hope exist without a rigid timeline. And it reminds me that every artist I admire once had goals that sounded just as unlikely until they didn’t.

I don’t expect all of this to happen overnight. Or all at once. Or even exactly as imagined. But I believe deeply in working toward a future that feels expansive rather than cautious.

So I’ll keep painting. I’ll keep researching. I’ll keep applying, submitting, collaborating, and dreaming out loud. Because if believing big is delusion, then I’m comfortable living there brush in hand, moving forward anyway.