She glows from within. She belongs here, at the Peabody Essex Museum, alive with color and crowned with braids. She is titled “New Growth Second Chapter #3” and she welcomes visitors to the gallery, setting the tone: You’re welcome here. Come in and learn. Come in and celebrate. Such pride resides in the lift of her chin, such power in the placement of the flower blooming across her throat, and so much joy in all that color — the vivacious, Bahamian color of the Androsia fabric filling her silhouette. She is a guardian, a goddess and a guide all at once.

So begins the experience of Gio Swaby’s solo exhibition,“Fresh Up” on view through November 26 at the Peabody Essex Museum. Installed in Salem after shows at the Museum of Fine Arts, St. Petersburg and the Art Institute of Chicago, “Fresh Up” arrived with serious national buzz. Swaby’s work has completely sold out according to her gallery, the beloved Claire Oliver of Harlem.

Gio Swaby, who was born in the Bahamas and studied art in Canada, creates tactile, process-intensive portraits of Black women and girls using thread, labor, love and fabric. She prioritizes extensive consultation and photo sessions with her subjects, and shows them at their best. “Fresh Up “ is a Bahamian complement given to someone dressed up to go out, like saying “you look good,” but better. Though only in her early thirties, the artist addresses weighty, monumental themes: representation and Black womanhood, the history of portraiture, the value of women’s labor and Black joy as a form of restorative resistance.

As “Fresh Up” enters its final weeks at the PEM, Misstropolis spoke with Gio Swaby about leading with love, keeping things real and the importance of her connection to home.

RH: You talk about your portraits originating from a place of love and characterize your work as “love letters.” You even give visitors to the show a chance to write a love letter to someone. Can you talk about why you choose love as a starting point for your work?

GS: There’s a very big responsibility in portraiture, especially in the way that I approach it. For me there has to be an extremely high level of care. The agency has to be there for the person I’m representing. There has to be a leveling of the power dynamic. I try to achieve that through my process, and that means approaching the work with an abundance of love; to share that with the people being represented, with myself and the people who will see these final portraits.

It’s natural for me to think about it like that, but in a lot of ways it is a radical approach to making this kind of work, if you think about the full history of portraiture.

RH: Thus far in your career you’ve focused on making portraits of women and girls, including self portraits. Is it revealing to look at other contemporary portrait artists, take someone like Kehinde Wiley, who for a long time exclusively represented men, and think about their progression? He went on to incorporate female subjects in his work. I wonder if you’ve thought about expanding your practice to include different types of subjects?

GS: I like to approach my practice with an openness, even though there are things I will never do for ethical reasons and for just being human. But I think it’s definitely possible. I think Kehinde Wiley started off with portraits of men because he was approaching his practice from his lived experience and exploring aspects of what he knew. For me, that’s the power of being an artist – your unique perspective. No one person or artist needs to explore every single thing. It's not possible.

The work I always find most interesting is work connected to the experiences the artist had. Through life, things evolve and the work changes and it expands with time, especially after spending so many years exploring a certain area. It’s pretty early on for me. I still feel content in the work that I'm making. It’s still really exciting. It hasn't gotten to a point where it feels like, “Okay I’ve done this a lot I should think of something else.”  

RH: You grew up in the Bahamas in a family of women — your mom, grandmother and four sisters. Can you talk about your special connection with your mom who was a seamstress and how she influenced your work? 

GS: I am one of five, I have four siblings and it can be hard to find whatever your special connection is when there are so many people. There is a lot of creativity in my family, but I am the only person who pursued that path. I loved having those special moments to share with my mom. It was down to something as simple as connection. I feel like I am still uncovering all the pieces of what that meant for me and how it’s shaped my practice and how it’s shaped me as a person.  

RH: In your work you show a lot of love and respect for your Bahamian culture. Can you talk about what that means to you and how it connects to your strong sense of color?  

GS: What can be challenging as an artist is we create these rules and boundaries for ourselves. Like, “I made five portraits in this way… is this the way I should keep doing things?” You can feel restricted. I had to step out of that and realize: this portrait is about this person and this is what I need to do for them. It doesn’t matter if I’ve never used colored thread before or never chosen to highlight this certain aspect before. If it’s important to them, that’s what I want to show. 

The portrait is collaborative. I want to represent them as they are. I don’t want to impose too much upon them. Trying to focus on what I know is important to that person based on conversations we’ve had or how long I’ve known them is a really special part of the process. Also the aesthetic decisions about color and pattern and how things will go together is really fun. I try to approach it openly. Anything could happen, let’s just see how it goes and if something isn't working, I’ll change it. Sometimes you build up something in your mind and then you do it and it doesn’t work and it's super disappointing.

RH: (interrupts) Like writing.

GS: (Laughs) Yes, I like writing. I just try to keep it pushing and I have to feel ok with changing and letting some things go.

All of the colors in the fabrics that I use are so influenced by my Bahamian culture and my background, same with my titles. And the women and girls in my work are often from the Bahamas. It's a way for me to honor my culture, keeping me connected to home. Certain things just seem like a natural way to move into that celebration of my country. Androsia fabric was a no-brainer. Every Bahamian knows what it is. 

RH: In some series the fabric is used in tiny details like the tie of a dress or the loop of an earring and in others the fabric covers the entire subject in silhouette. As a young artist you have already tested so many ways of using your materials while building your signature vocabulary. Do you feel like you are intentionally creating a vernacular or does that happen because as you’ve described, you are moved to try different things for different subjects?

GS: When you try to, you know, “create your own style” it doesn't work as well. This is the beginning of art school: What is going to be my thing that I do? It’s a hard journey to figure it out. When I let that go, I can think instead about, “What are my real interests? What is my true experience as an artist and how can I explore those things and bring it into my work?” That will translate so you can make something unique and special to you.

There’s also the part about being really resourceful. That comes from my upbringing in the Bahamas and my background. If you don’t have something, you don’t have what you need, you need to figure it out. I had to develop this process over a decade and every time I make a new portrait something shifts just a little bit, to refine that process a little bit more or to create a complication in the process. That’s my approach to developing my own personal artistic lexicon of ideas and translating them into the physical work.

RH: “Fresh Up” was organized by the Art Institute of Chicago and Museum of Fine Arts, St. Petersburg and now is showing at the Peabody Essex Museum. People from all over the world have experienced your work and your reputation has grown enormously. What has changed for you between when you made the work and now?

GS: So much has shifted. Pretty much everything has changed, except the work. Number one, I have time. I was never a full time artist until early 2021 when I had the means to do this. I started my MFA in 2020. And this year has been the first year when I have been able to [work full time on art]. It’s what I’m thinking about all the time and when I think of something, I can go and do it. Having the financial means to pursue the work I want – that’s a huge barrier for a lot of artists. Things cost money. To be able to afford different sewing machines and materials has been a big shift for me.

The most major thing is the opportunity to connect. I’ve visited so many different cities and seen how the work is informed by that context and how that affects people and how that affects me. To see Black women and girls come into these spaces where I never dreamed of being at this early stage, that's a gift for me. That’s a driving force behind my practice.

Then there are the difficulties. With more exposure, there’s more feedback. Like, “This is the greatest thing you’ve ever done, you should do more of that.” I try to ignore that. If I never do the next thing, I’m always doing the same thing. 

RH: Yes, the word should. Red flags should go up when we hear that word.

GS: I have my core circle of people. I trust them in a way that feels real, because at this point it’s hard to know what’s real and what’s not real and people’s true motivations. My people keep me grounded and humble. 

RH: I’d like to talk about your work as a challenge to contemporary ways of seeing: the swiping, scrolling, double clicking, deleting on a tiny screen. We live in this reality, and as a woman born in 1991 you grew up with digital media, and your work can be seen as an antidote to that. Not only do you encourage us to slow down and look closely, but you also celebrate vulnerability and imperfection. You show the back of the work, the hanging threads and decision making. Can you talk about how that informs series such as Another Side to Me and Clean Hands? 

GS: There's an intentional representation of realness in the work. I want to show people actually as they are, not anything that feels edited or unreal. It heightens the experience of entering the space, being able to see someone who looks familiar to you. The life size scale can elicit a stronger connection. 

And it is a slowing down because it’s drawing, but it’s so much slower than many other ways of drawing. To create a line takes so much time; intention. Put the line here, it means something to have it here. It shows the labor and care put into the work. If you’ve seen my social media you know I’m not very good at posting. It’s hard for me to connect on that platform. And I do think about the implications of seeing people who are completely airbrushed. This is not how human beings look in everyday life. But it's tricky because it can get in our heads. “Why do I have pores and no one else does?” I want to show someone in a way that is true and honest and also has a lot of reverence. Honoring them. All these things are intertwined. It goes back to showing that person as they really are because it’s in dedication to them. That’s a core value in how I approach my work.

I grew up connecting to characters who didn’t look like me all the time. My work is very explicitly about expressing love for Black women, but I think there are so many ways to enter it. It’s about identity, it's about love and family and friendships so there is so much that many different kinds of people can take away when they see it.

Swaby created a special playlist for the exhibition. It can be heard in the gallery and downloaded on Spotify. It’s really really good. Some of the songs are listed below:

“Don’t Touch My Hair” by Solange
“Cozy” by Beyoncé
“Water Me Down” by Vagabon
”Envy” by Ogi
”Pretty Ugly” by Tierra Whack
”Wait a Minute” by Willow
”BROWN SKIN GIRL” by Beyoncé, Wizkid, SAINt JHN, feat. Blue Ivy Carter
”Everything is Everything” by Ms. Lauryn Hill
”Growth” by Lizzie Berchie

To listen at home, download here.

* All images by Gio Swaby and courtesy of Claire Oliver Gallery.