Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Tricia Rainwater. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Tricia, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.
Traveling the Choctaw Route of the Trail of Tears was deeply meaningful to me. Two years ago, with the support of a grant from the San Francisco Arts Commission, I was able to create work about my ancestors’ forced removal and the long, harrowing walk they endured. Over two and a half weeks, I traveled through Louisiana, Mississippi, Arkansas, and ultimately to Oklahoma. Along the way, I hiked up to the original trail bed in Arkansas, visited Nanih Waiya (our sacred mound) in Winston County, Mississippi, and saw the site of my grandfather’s old church, which had been leveled.
Creating work on my ancestral homelands while visiting places my ancestors lived was profoundly important to me. During this trip, I learned the value of being open to change, as many of the shots and ideas came to me spontaneously in the moment. Embracing new approaches and allowing myself to be impacted by the environment proved essential to the process of making this work.
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.
As an Indigiqueer femme, my work is deeply rooted in the interconnected relationships between land, body, and self. I view my body as both an extension of the landscape and a vessel for exploration. Through self-portrait photography, I create spaces to hold grief and revisit wounds, allowing me to confront and nurture the parts of myself in need of care. In my sculptural work, I imagine a dialogue that bridges the past and future, offering a way to honor ancestral knowledge while envisioning what lies ahead.
Over the past year, amidst significant life changes, I have continued to document my evolving journey. This body of work invites viewers into quiet moments of reflection, tracing a path through profound loss and transformation. From the deep pandemic pain of losing loved ones back home, through the ending of a decade-long relationship, to the process of rediscovering home by placing trust in people and community, my work charts a narrative of resilience and healing.
Do you think there is something that non-creatives might struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can shed some light?
My creative practice has always been present, but my pivot to self-portraiture was born out of a therapy session over twelve years ago. I sat in my therapist’s office and asked how I could work through big emotions, and his suggestion was to turn the camera on myself. I quickly embraced this style of photography, using it as a form of self-exploration—a way to steady my racing mind and create space for processing.
For me, self-portrait photography became a tool to confront and process some of my deepest wounds and pain points. As my healing journey has progressed, I’ve been able to look more broadly at the intergenerational trauma within my family and reflect on the places, people, and circumstances that shaped our relationships with one another.
Looking back, are there any resources you wish you knew about earlier in your creative journey?
When it comes to resources, it’s important to remember to use what you have and to consider the people you surround yourself with. Studio visits with trusted community members and friends can be transformative for your career, expanding the scope of who might see your work. Surround yourself with artists who value their work as much as you value your own and who encourage you to dedicate the time needed to turn your goals into reality.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.triciarainwaterart.com/
- Instagram: triciarainwaterart
