Kyle Steed is an artist living in Dallas, Texas.
His work is bold, colorful, and seems to be constantly unfolding. We look back on his early days in Japan, and talk about how he’s grown personally and creatively over the years since then.

Tell me a little about when you first began pursuing a career in art. I know you’ve said you wanted to be an artist ever since you were a little kid. How did you get started?

Photo: Kyle Steed

While it’s true, my creative pursuits have been with me all along, learning the where and how to apply my passion has taken me down many different paths. Life is not so neat and orderly like I once dreamt it would be. I’ve always been drawn to the analogy that life is like the crossing of a river; from one stone to the next. The water is ever flowing. We are free to pause and reflect on its beauty, we can get down in it, waist deep in the current, but we all must find our path to the other side.

One of the more unexpected turns on my path was ending up in the Air Force. But before I ever put on the uniform I did succeed in landing a graphic design internship my first summer after high school. It was enough to wet my appetite but I was lacking the structure and self confidence to continue past that summer and landed back in the world of minimum wage. Internally, however, my creativity could not be stifled. The dreams I had of making a living with my art were ahead of their time… I had no idea what the next four years of life would teach me. But shit… aren’t they here all the time with me, the constraints and limitations I mean. The boundaries limiting what I can do are, in my experience, a pathway to greater creativity.

After my time was up and we arrived home I carried with me a new sense of self. No longer feeling entitled to anything but now motivated by my previous four years overcoming obstacles to not stop until I made it my way. And this is still pretty much the way I wake up each and every damn day. Not gonna stop until I make it my way. You feel me? I’ve come to learn that there is no “destination,” only the path we’re on for the day that we’re given. Every day I open my eyes I try and see the world around me as if for the first time. So much to be grateful for, and I feel like that’s one of the biggest lessons COVID-19 and quarantine has been teaching me.

You attended the Community College of the Air Force: Japan. What was that experience like? Was there anything about being stationed there that you feel inspired or affected your art?

Saying I attended is almost giving me too much credit. They took my credits from the previous schooling I had under my belt and then applied my technical school training and mailed me a diploma. Nothing fancy. The little bit of education I did take while in Japan was just an excuse to get outta work. I couldn’t get out of the military fast enough. From the first step I took into that recruiters office to the last foot leaving the ground as I boarded my plane home from Japan… I knew that my time in the military was limited.

However, life in a foreign country is something I was not prepared for. Being in Japan was a life changing experience. One of those, “oh shit, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” kind of experiences. The country. The people.

The most beautiful things happen in the most unexpected places. For me, in Japan, it was the first time in my life of truly having that feeling of being an outsider. I’ve often struggled inside feeling like I don’t belong, for one reason or another. But to be 8,000 miles away from the comforts of home, away from friends and family, I was left to navigate a part of my soul that was always kept in the dark. And this season of the dark soul is something I’ve really come to honor in my life. Seeing that we are all in some way strangers on this planet also means we are more connected to one another than we like to think.

Photo: Kyle Steed

I love your photography. Do you feel more playful or less inhibited while painting or shooting photos?

Each medium provides a unique perspective into my world. I think what a lot of people don’t realize is that I’ve had a camera in hand for 20 years now. I taught myself on 35mm film and spent years learning (making mistakes) about composition, lighting, and the rule of thirds

But thinking more about what each medium offers me there is something more familiar to me about a photograph.

I feel a certain ease and looseness behind the lens. I see it. I capture it. And in my paintings I am more serious. More intentional in some way. Looking inward for an expression of my soul. Meditation and Yoga have been really helping me see with my third eye and opening to a new world within me. Feeling what it feels like to truly be guided by something greater than the mind. Call it spirit. Call it intuition. Call it cosmic. I heard this one time and it’s brilliant: “God isn’t fussy about her name.”

But here’s some real talk. I always secretly wanted to be a painter. I just never thought it was possible. Painting felt too obscure or too much for “those” people. Not sure where that comes from. But my parents were practical people. I was raised by a single mother. So there wasn’t much in the way of footsteps I could follow. My mom was just out there raising my brother and me best she could. But what I lacked in seeing someone else pursue their dreams, I made up for in my own imagination. And now, as a parent, this one of life’s toughest challenges raising two young daughters. Teaching them that to be bored is a gift. If it weren’t for all those many boring afternoons I had in my room drawing who knows where I’d be today. For real, think about that for a moment.

You wrote about fear on your blog recently. What scared you when you were younger and what scares you now?

When I was young I was afraid of failing. As I get older now I fear actually making it and letting it go to waste. Well that and the natural fear of raising children. LOL! But for real, if parenting has taught me anything it is I always have a choice. I can choose to let go or I can choose to hold on. In choosing to let go, I have found more peace and patience with myself. Letting go looks like being interrupted 10x a day and still having the compassion to listen. Letting go looks like getting off Instagram and finding contentment with the life I have around me. Letting go looks like giving myself time to stretch, breath and sit in silence.

This all leads me back to reinventing myself, or what I call my constant evolution. I think being curious and being quiet are good ways to find that place of deeper knowing. A place where I can acknowledge my feelings and learn to let them be. Learning to observe myself in a non-judgmental way has been a huge game changer in the ways I respond to fear. But it also reminds me never to take social status as a measure for success. No matter what the comment section says, or through which medium I find success, I am continuously in search of honesty and authenticity.

My time in Japan and the subsequent years of freelancing were preparing me for what it means to make it my own way. Sometimes I feel like it has taken me longer to get here. But in reality, that fear is based on some unreal expectations. I have always been right where I’m supposed to be. Kanye said it best in my opinion: “Everything I’m not made me everything I am.”

One of the things I admire most about your work is that you seem to refuse to be pigeonholed into doing just one thing. Do you actively push yourself to experiment or step outside of what you feel comfortable with?

Abso-fuckin-lutely. I spent so much of my early adulthood afraid of what others thought; it kept me from being my true self. When the shift began to happen from exterior to interior, I found a world I could call my own. A space that felt safe to explore. We are never what we do, but we are systematically taught that what we do, or what we want to be when we grow up, is somehow the end-all, be-all definition of ourselves. But without the balance of knowing who we are in our being we put too much pressure on our performance…so we tend to carry a lot of weight around with us looking for validation from people and places that were never designed to do that.

It doesn’t serve me well any longer to use what I do to define my worth and well-being in the world. My being is a presence and deserves to be nurtured. But the confidence I get from pursuing new work comes from within. From a place of being. I am often amazed at how others respond to my work, especially in its raw form. Much of my growth and journey as a person has to do with letting things go and being okay with what isn’t perfect. I think people just want something that is honest. People, especially younger people, are becoming hip to the fact that they know when they’re being sold something and have a really strong bullshit detector. So when you make something that is raw and authentic it resonates deeply.

When I sit before my paintings I am not looking to answer any questions or make it perfect. Shit I’m not even going for popular at this point. There is healing in the work. There is also doubt and frustration and accomplishment and satisfaction. Comfort never really comes to mind when I think about my work.

Kyle pulled together a playlist of what he’s been listening to lately.
Listen now on our Spotify.

Do you listen to music while you work?

More often than not. There was that whole summer right after Kendrick Lamar dropped DAMN and that was all I listened to in the studio. I go everywhere from India to Africa to Australia and back to Fort Worth, Texas. Jazz has a very special place in my heart (Shout out Kirk Whalum). I love the piano and guitar rhythm. I try and match my music with my mood.

Who are some visual artists, painters, photographers etc. who have inspired you?

Philip Guston. Geoff McFetridge. Van Gogh. Kusama. Anyone who is off in their own world I’m excited about.

I saw a Creative Morning talk you did about three years ago where you talk about how important contemplative practices have become to you. What do you find so powerful about deliberately creating a quiet space to sit and think?

Meditation is a beautiful practice. Yoga also fits in line with this inward journey. Learning to be still and draw power from that place is hard. But it always brings me back to center. My practice isn’t about getting rid of thought. Instead I like to imagine myself as a mountain and each thought is a passing cloud washing over me. They come. They go. Time on the mat isn’t always exciting or revelatory though. But the power I believe comes in the daily practice. The devotion to the practice. And, simply, keeping in mind that all of life is practice.

Is there a piece of advice that's stuck with you over the years?

I used to carry the words of my first art director with me; “what are you trying to say?” For years this helped me dig deeper into the meaning behind my work. No longer creating for what other people will like, but pulling my work up out of my heart. But as I evolve I find that questions, not answers, are more interesting. The truth is more open ended. So I still think I’m digging deep for meaning, it’s just I’ve given up on trying to get there in a hurry.

What's your next project? Is there a certain piece or a series that you're excited to work on at some point?

Being able to get in the studio during this pandemic has been a huge source of strength. I’ve been fortunate enough to find a space that is walking distance from my home. This new body of work lies somewhere between the world of botany and anatomy. Plants and people share so much in common that I am asking myself how the lines between one ends and the other begin.

Also, I just completed my new mural inside the brand new Texas Rangers stadium. With the delay of major league baseball I was able to really dive deep into the details with this project. It’s exciting because I’m making up my own world of imagination. These illustrated topographies of spaces are very labor intensive. What makes this work so interesting is all the research and history that goes into it. I want people to get lost in their looking. I want people to stop and pause, even if just for a few seconds.

Anything else you’d like to say?

I would like to thank each and every person who has helped me along the way. Like Mr. Campbell, my high school art teacher, who first introduced me to photoshop. My dear friend Jillian Johnson (RIP) who was the embodiment of creativity. My parents and grandparents. My friend and mentor Kirk Whalum for being an example to me in times when I had no other path to follow. My wife, almost 15 years now boo, who challenges me and supports me like no one else. My two girls, the love they show and the energy at which they engage life with is inspiring. And to each and every one of you I know personally, I love you and thank you.

In the Studio with Kyle Steed

On the Road with Kevin Morby