Kiera Rahming-Reed’s wood works reward a closer look. Beneath the wallpaper, collage, ceramic, rope and paint, the self-taught Atlanta artist’s pieces hold layers you have to lean in to see.
Her practice centers Black women and Black queer experience. She is a member of GLAAD’s 2026 Equity in Media and Entertainment Initiative (EMEI) third cohort, and, earlier this year, participated in “Georgia Wood Artists: A Juried Exhibition” at the Marietta Cobb Museum of Art.
On Sunday, “Nemesis: Remember,” GLAAD’s first-ever EMEI visual art exhibition, closed at New York’s Leslie-Lohman Museum of Art. Guest curated by Damon Epps, the show included two of Rahming-Reed works among pieces by 10 Black LGBTQ artists. Thursday, her work comes home to the 8th Annual Mayor’s Pride Reception & Art Exhibit at Atlanta City Hall.
In between shows, Rahming-Reed shared her thoughts on making memory tangible and honoring the layers of our lives.
Talk about the work you had in “Nemesis: Remember.”
“The House I Carried” marks an early turning point in my investigation of Emotional Architecture, the idea that the environments we inherit can become structures within us. The house is both physical and psychological: something built around us, built into us, and eventually carried with us. The work asks what remains when the place we once called home becomes part of who we are.
“Before I Knew Shame, I Just Wanted To Play” reflects on the self before it becomes burdened by the expectations, judgments, and narratives imposed upon it. The work considers childhood as a space of possibility, curiosity, and unguarded identity, while acknowledging how external environments can gradually shape what we learn to hide. The work asks what parts of that earlier self can still be recovered.
“Nemesis” asked participating artists to turn memory into material. What memory, or whose memory, did you build into your pieces?
My memory, along with the memories of my friends, sisters, and mother, live within these works. Being a Black American from the South, the expectations of becoming “something” were evident from a very young age. I’m sure many people can relate to feeling the pressure to assimilate into a culture that doesn’t quite accept you anyway.
When you look closely at the work, you’ll see memories of words used to criticize young girls, such as “not ladylike” or “smile more,” hidden in the grass. They are phrases we try to forget, yet they linger.
“The House I Carried” also carries memory in multiple ways. The ceramic pieces represent how the memories we hold onto can become fragmented, yet somehow we turn those fragments into stories. The purple wall in the back of the house holds long-forgotten memories—some we’re really proud of and some we may not care to share. Memories of childhood honor roll, growing up in the church, and almost having a Black woman as president all reside within that wall.
Your work often places hand-cut wood beneath painted surfaces. What sits underneath?
Sometimes those layers have a greenish tint, and sometimes I get surprised by a layer of my favorite color, purple. … For “The House I Carried,” I decided to allow the figure to be completely covered in paint, while the house she’s connected to reveals its layers. But in order to see those layers, you have to get up close and personal with the figure. The structures that hold her up all have different levels of exposed layers, encouraging the viewer to think about who you allow to get close enough to you to experience all of you.
You showed with nine other Black LGBTQ artists from your cohort. Whose work stayed with you?
Devin Wesley, Travion Payne, and Ryan C. Hamilton’s work all continue to stay with me. Devin’s representation of Black men’s armor and moments of vulnerability really hit home for me. We don’t get to see Black men being vulnerable often, and these portraits showed how each person had autonomy over how much of themselves they allowed the viewer to experience.
Ryan’s collection of works reflected another side of Black men that’s seldomly shown in media. These photographs of Black men in their created environments show how important it is for the environments we curate for ourselves to become our safe havens — a place where we can be our full selves. Ryan gave us a small peek into the lives of men being their full selves within those safe havens.
The scale of Travion’s work created almost an energetic portal. It draws you in and forces you to pay close attention to the work.
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How do you describe yourself, as an artist and as a person?
I am a student of life. I am constantly learning, whether that’s through self-development, self-acceptance, or simply learning about an unfamiliar insect I crossed paths with. As a former educator, I value education in all forms deeply. The teacher has been and will forever be the student.
Rahming-Reed’s work is part of the 8th Annual Mayor’s Pride Reception & Art Exhibit, 5-9 p.m. Thursday, Oct. 8, at Atlanta City Hall. The evening benefits the Mayor’s Youth Scholarship Program. Tickets are $20.
