We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Ryan Hanami. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Ryan below.

Ryan, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Has your work ever been misunderstood or mischaracterized?

Yes, I’ve had my work misunderstood and mischaracterized, and one of the most revealing instances happened in an interdisciplinary art class during my undergraduate studies at UCLA.

The professor, a filmmaker, emphasized that verbal participation was required to pass the course. This made me nervous, I was a high school dropout returning to academia, and speaking up in group discussions had always been a challenge for me. She mentioned that if anyone needed accommodations due to anxiety or difficulty speaking, they should reach out to her.

After class, I took her up on that offer. I approached her and asked if I could submit written reflections alongside verbal participation to ensure I met the course requirements. I wasn’t trying to avoid speaking entirely, just to create a backup plan so I wouldn’t fail for struggling with something I was actively working on. Her response was dismissive: “I don’t understand, It just sounds like you need to see someone about that.”

That moment stuck with me, not just because of how invalidating it felt, but because it reflected something larger about how we engage with vulnerability in academic spaces. When our first assignment was to write a script between two people, I used the opportunity to process that moment. I rewrote the scenario, but in my version, the professor was kind and understanding. It wasn’t meant to be an attack or satire, it was a hopeful, even therapeutic act, drawing from a psychotherapy tool called a psychodrama that I’d learned in therapy, where difficult experiences are re-framed in a more positive way.

Before submitting, I emailed both the professor and the TA to ask if they were comfortable with my script being shared in class. They both approved it. But after I read it aloud, they expressed a completely different reaction, calling it inappropriate and even suggesting that it was bullying the professor in front of the class.

I was surprised by the disconnect between their private approval and their public response. It made me think about the ways people respond to art differently depending on context. How something might feel acceptable in theory but uncomfortable when actually experienced. It also made me reflect on the distinction between intention and perception. My goal was never to be confrontational, but I was still responsible for how the work was received.

This experience made me more aware of the way personal and institutional dynamics influence how art is interpreted. It also reinforced that once a work leaves the artist’s hands, it takes on a life of its own. I don’t think misunderstanding is necessarily a bad thing, it can reveal just as much as understanding does. Since then, I’ve learned to embrace that tension.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

I’m a conceptual artist whose work primarily takes form through painting, though I also make sculptures and music at times. I just want to explore ideas in whatever form feels most natural.

I’ve been surrounded by art my entire life. My dad was an artist, and because of that, nothing else ever really interested me. Art wasn’t something I “discovered” or “chose”, it was just always there.

While I’ve heard people describe artists as “culture creators” or place them on pedestals, I don’t really see it that way. I don’t think I’m any different than a chef, a teacher, a firefighter, or an architect. We all have different roles, different ways of shaping the world around us. If anything, I wish art wasn’t praised in the way that it often is. It makes me uncomfortable when artists are placed above others, as if their contributions are somehow more profound.

At the end of the day, we’ll all be forgotten, and I don’t mean that in some weird nihilistic way. I think it’s actually freeing. It reminds me that every moment, every person, and every small thing in life is miraculous in its own right. To elevate artists above everything else feels shortsighted when there’s beauty and meaning in everything.

I don’t make work to be praised or remembered, I make it because it’s the most honest way I know how to engage with the world. If there’s anything I want people to take from what I do, it’s that art doesn’t have to be precious or untouchable. It’s just another way of thinking, feeling, and existing.

What can society do to ensure an environment that’s helpful to artists and creatives?

Honestly just go to more shows. Take advantage of the free drinks at openings. Talk to people.

Any insights you can share with us about how you built up your social media presence?

I actively try not to get attention. Whatever amount of followers I get is not by any sort of strategy, if anything, it’s despite my best efforts to stay under the radar.

I’ve deleted and recreated my accounts so many times I’ve lost count. As soon as something gains too much traction, I delete it. The only reason I have social media at all right now is to stay connected with peers in academia, otherwise, it would probably be gone again. My current approach? Not posting much so it doesn’t grow.

So, if someone actually wants to build a social media presence, I’d say

• Be consistent (which I don’t do).
• Engage with communities (which I also don’t do).
• Find a balance between authenticity and performance (which is probably why I struggle with social media in the first place).

Just use social media however you want. Delete it, remake it, reinvent yourself as many times as you feel like. Not everything has to be a brand, and not everyone wants an audience.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://ryanhanami.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ryanhanami