We were lucky to catch up with Rei Xiao recently and have shared our conversation below.

Rei, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Can you take us back in time to the first dollar you earned as a creative – how did it happen? What’s the story?

There are two instances that I can consider as the “first dollar” I earned. One was back in high school when one of my English teachers saw a small painting I made on Facebook and offered to buy it. After she messaged me on FB, I gave her a quote, which was apparently slightly above her expectations. She ghosted me on Facebook and didn’t respond until I followed up several times. We eventually talked in person and agreed on a price, and she said, “This should prepare you for the real world if you are going to be an artist, you need to learn that you will never get what you want, or it will always be below what you ask for.”

4-5 years after that weird transaction and conversation, I applied to an open call for one of the biggest art events in Turkey called “Mamut Art Project,” which offers a rent-free platform to 50 artists each year along with curatorial guidance, PR support, and network opportunities. My application was accepted in 2019, and I had my first solo exhibition through them. I had ten paintings at the show and sold nine of them. Some of those works are still in valuable collections in Turkey to this day. The project took place a few months before I was about to leave Turkey for college and move to the US. It was a much more honorable way to earn my first dollar, and I got to pay for my plane tickets with the money I made too.

Rei, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I was born and raised in Istanbul, Turkey. I have always been drawn to creativity, but my journey in the arts began with my move to the US on a full scholarship to study Fine Arts at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts at Tufts University, where I graduated with a BFA in 2023. Soon after, I relocated to Brooklyn, where I now sustain my painting career through a blend of studio practice, studio assistantships with established artists across NYC, and tattooing. I began exhibiting in group shows in 2019 and have continued to showcase my work in exhibitions in the US, the UK, and Turkey.

I’m primarily an oil painter and have been painting since high school. My paintings are rooted in my Chinese-Turkish heritage and layer autobiographical imagery with dreamscapes and hybrid figures. I navigate realms of in-betweenness, viewing darkness as a kind of origin point that allows for both introspection and exploration. I blend morbid yet whimsical elements into my work to create narratives that hover between trauma and light, evoking spaces that are both familiar and elusive.

Most recently, my work was featured in the 2023 group show Archive and Autobiography at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. In early 2024, I furthered my practice at two artist residencies: the Vermont Studio Center on the Emily Mason and Wolf Kahn Fellowship and the ChaNorth Artist Residency. Both residencies allowed me to experience a sense of community and immerse myself in my studio practice, which is imperative for an emerging artist navigating the art world and immigration.

Are there any resources you wish you knew about earlier in your creative journey?

I think the most important “resource” is having a community. Being an artist is a path full of challenging circumstances, financial instability, and frequent uncertainty. As someone who immigrated to the US from Turkey, I often found myself in situations where I had no sense of home, permanence, or belonging. During my early years in the US, despite my accomplishments, I frequently struggled with feelings of isolation and doubt about my future.

What truly helped me cope during those uncertain times was the support of people who had faith in me. When I was struggling to secure a full scholarship to study in the US, it was the encouragement of a few key individuals that kept me going. I was so used to being self-reliant that I underestimated how vital having a community would be to my growth and mental health.

It wasn’t until I participated in two back-to-back artist residencies that I truly understood how transformative a supportive community can be. For the first time, I felt accepted, heard, and seen, surrounded by a group of kind, curious, and committed artists who genuinely understood my struggles. Their support not only helped me through the challenges of being an artist but also made me more perceptive of my own needs. Building and maintaining a community is not easy, but it has been one of the most valuable lessons in my creative journey.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

I grew up in Istanbul, living with my mom and her 15 foster cats during high school. Amid the ongoing economic and political crisis in Turkey, my mom lost her business, which severely impacted her mental health, hence the overpopulation of cats and fleas in our apartment. Spending my teen years like this was traumatizing, but it fueled my drive to escape Turkey.

Coming from a low-income background, college education abroad was impossible for me without full funding. My mom earned minimum wage, and art as a career path was extremely hard to validate in my culture, which added guilt to my pursuit of external scholarships to study abroad. However, a few people believed in me, giving me the courage to seek guidance and funding. My senior year was spent writing to Turkish artists and arts professionals, facing countless rejections but also making valuable connections. Despite earning admission to many art schools in the US and Europe, their limited scholarships for international students made studying abroad unattainable.

I ended up enrolling in an art school in Istanbul but felt unfulfilled because my grand plan was to escape my hometown and realize my dreams in a country where the arts receive much more funding and investment than in Turkey. A close friend encouraged me to apply to liberal arts colleges with need-based aid. I retook exams, applied to SMFA at Tufts early decision, and was admitted with full financial aid.

Coming to the US felt surreal, but the pandemic made those early years emotionally taxing. Uncertainty was a constant, with frequent campus closures forcing me to pack my entire life into two suitcases to go back to Turkey. As the pandemic waned, new anxieties emerged around my immigration status. My student visa allowed me an extra year to stay, during which I ceaselessly applied for residencies, open calls, and networking opportunities while consulting lawyers to navigate the artist visa process.

The window was pretty tight—I had to strengthen my resume within only a year and I was recieving rejections continuously. I often felt like I was being dragged along by circumstances beyond my control, panicking and crying every other week. I ended up securing two back-to-back residencies and gathering letters of recommendation and job offers, which required immense effort and perseverance. It still feels unreal and miraculous, but I made it happen—I got my artist visa.

Resilience was inseparable from my journey because it entailed immigration. I often discredited my resilience because I was motivated by the fact that I didn’t have a safe home or country to return to if I couldn’t get the visa. I didn’t think enduring all these challenges was part of being resilient; I just thought it was what I had to go through and that there wasn’t much to take pride in.
Ultimately, I learned that resilience isn’t only about pursuing goals or ambitions—it’s about enduring and overcoming the challenges life throws at you, even when the process feels unbearable. Looking back, those struggles shaped not only my career but also my understanding of strength.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://reixiao.com
• Instagram: https://instagram.com/reixiao_