We recently connected with Robin Strayhorn and have shared our conversation below.
Robin, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. Can you open up about a risk you’ve taken – what it was like taking that risk, why you took the risk and how it turned out?
Some years back I was working as a substitute teacher by day and creating art as much as I could in my spare time. I soon started exhibiting my artwork in various exhibits and eventually landed my first public art commission. Not long afterward, I felt the necessity to obtain a larger space in which to explore the various mediums I enjoyed working with (i.e., ceramics, print-making, painting, sewing, collage and more). I also felt a strong urge to put teaching on hold so that I could make art my focal point and allow it to be my sole source of income. When I decided to move to a large loft in downtown LA in early 2000, it was a big leap of faith because my rent would turn out to be almost double what I was previously paying. And this coupled with choosing a fulltime art career that lacked the stability of receiving a consistent income was super scary. That was a huge risk, for even though things were opening up for me, I had no idea when the next painting would sell or if and when I’d get another public art project. But I knew I had to do it and I was forced to stay in a very trusting state of being, knowing that everything would work out. A big part of me knew it would work out, but there were many times when I wasn’t always certain.
Ultimately, I was so happy with my expansive space and noticed that all sorts of unexpected opportunities showed up. I found that I was super productive and disciplined. I worked on at least 6 public art projects during my time living there. It was so clear that when we make commitments or intentions, the universe really does conspire to support us in ways we may not initially understand. It was like I was opening the door to a new chapter of my life, and with that larger space, I could pour all of my energy into my work.
Looking back, that risk felt like a leap of faith not only financially but also in terms of my artistic evolution. The loft became more than just a physical space—it was a place where I could explore without limitations, push my creative boundaries, and make connections with others. It also forced me to be more entrepreneurial, to think about how to sustain myself as an artist.
That year marked a turning point. Not long after settling into the loft, I landed more public art commissions and was able to finally start selling my work regularly. The financial strain was still there, but with each project, I gained more confidence. The freedom of being a full-time artist, with no safety net, was liberating and terrifying all at once. But every time I took a risk, I noticed the rewards were always just a little bit bigger.
I also started to think about my role in the community differently. I realized that my art wasn’t just for me; it was a tool for connection and conversation. I became more intentional about involving others in my process, especially through public art workshops. The space gave me room to not just create, but also teach and collaborate in ways I hadn’t before.
The risk paid off in ways I never expected, and it was a reminder that sometimes the scariest decisions can lead to the most rewarding experiences.
Robin, 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’m Robin Strayhorn, a visual artist and public artist who works across a variety of mediums—oil painting, acrylics, watercolor, ceramics, printmaking, collage and more. My creative journey began at a very young age in Detroit, where I grew up in an environment filled with the sounds of music and the sights of art. My mother, an artist, and my father, a musician, both nurtured my creative spirit. By age 8, I was already drawing and developing my artistic voice, and that drive only grew as I got older.
After high school, I moved to New York, and then to Los Angeles, where the city’s rich cultural diversity deeply influenced my work. While studying Political Science at UCLA, I continued my artistic development, and it was during this time that I was mentored by the renowned artist Varnette Honeywood. My love for art only deepened, and I eventually left teaching to pursue art full-time.
My work ranges from abstract to figurative pieces, often infused with bold colors and strong narratives. I work in a variety of media to express my vision—acrylic and oil paintings that explore texture and depth, ceramic tile murals that engage community spaces, and printmaking that explores themes of identity and heritage. My work is often inspired by daily interactions, travel, the African American experience, the natural world, and the power of community.
I’m particularly proud of my public art projects, which bring together art and community in lasting ways. I’ve had the privilege of working on large-scale public art installations, including ceramic tile murals, tile benches, and terrazzo designs. One of my most significant projects was a two in one public art commission at Ontario International Airport located 40 miles outside of Los Angeles. One was a 11’ x 18’ ceramic tile mural which marked my first fabrication, while the other was a sizable terrazzo floor design.
Another favorite commission was a collaboration with artist Michael Massenburg to create ceramic tile benches honoring Rosa Parks at the MTA Rosa Parks Blue Line Station in Los Angeles. Other public works include projects at the Miriam Mathews/Hyde Park Branch Los Angeles Public Library and various public parks, where I’ve worked with local youth to create art that reflects their communities and personal stories.
What sets me apart is my dedication to creating art that is both deeply personal and accessible to the broader public. I don’t just see my work as something to be displayed in galleries; I believe art has the power to transform spaces, bring people together, and start important conversations. In my public art, I involve the community, particularly youth, in the process. Whether it’s through art workshops or collaborative projects, I aim to empower others by providing them with the tools to express themselves through creativity.
In my artistic practice, I also see teaching as a vital part of my mission. Through nonprofit work, I teach art classes to at-risk youth, giving them the opportunity to explore their own creativity in ways that can help build confidence, self-esteem, and problem-solving skills.
What I want people to know about me and my work is that art is not just something I do—it’s something I live. It’s how I connect with the world, express my ideas, and make sense of the human experience. I’m proud of the impact my work has had in communities, whether it’s beautifying a public space or providing young people with the opportunity to experience the transformative power of creating something with their own hands.
I’m always looking to collaborate with others who are passionate about art, community, and education. If you’re interested in supporting public art projects, exploring art workshops, or simply enjoying and collecting my work, I’d love to connect and see how we can create something beautiful together.
What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?
One lesson I had to unlearn was the idea that art had to fit into a predefined category or style. Although while growing up, it was common in my household to experiment and play with different types of mediums, I later found there to be this pressure to define myself as an artist based on a specific medium or genre. Early on in my career, I felt like I had to choose between being a painter, a printmaker, or a sculptor, and that each of these had to follow a strict set of “rules.” Over time, I realized that embracing fluidity, experimentation, and the freedom to combine different practices was what truly resonated with me. It took time to let go of the rigid idea of artistic identity and instead allow myself to explore various mediums and styles without feeling boxed in.
Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?
In 2007, I made the life-altering decision to put my art career and everything familiar to me on hold to live and study at an ashram in southern India. To do this, I had to pack up my cherished 1,600 sq. ft. loft home/studio, placing everything in storage. I initially hoped to keep the space until I returned, but with no clear timeline, I ultimately had to let it go.
I was filled with excitement about this new chapter, but I’ll never forget my first night at the ashram. I woke up to the sounds of unfamiliar birds, distant temple music, and calls to prayer echoing through the early morning air. In that moment, I felt completely disoriented and thought, Oh my god, what have I done? I left everything behind—where will I go when I return to LA? The realization hit hard, but soon enough, I settled in and felt elated to be in India.
After a year abroad, I returned to Los Angeles to begin working on a public art project that, in many ways, felt divinely placed for my homecoming. In the years that followed, I continued to travel to India regularly, usually twice a year, until 2012. That marked a turning point—my full commitment to life in LA again.
This is where my resilience was truly tested. Transitioning back was far more challenging than I anticipated. Everything had changed, and, in many ways, so had I. I no longer felt attached to many of the things and ways of being that once defined my life. After such a long absence, I felt out of sync, like I was starting over from scratch. Meanwhile, my belongings remained in storage for far longer than I ever imagined. This period deeply affected my ability to create, yet I had no regrets—the experiences and inner expansion I gained in India were priceless.
It took years of floating between spaces—both physically and mentally—before I could fully process the shifts within me. Gradually, I reached a place where I could create, exhibit, and teach more consistently again. That journey, though difficult, reinforced my ability to adapt, trust the process, and embrace transformation.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.robinstrayhorn.com
- Instagram: studiostrayhorn
