Artist Profile: Shelly Grace
The latest in a series of interviews with artists who have a significant body of work that responds to social justice issues.
Shelly Grace is a Toronto-based spoken word poet, photographer, and arts educator. She uses her art for community building and healing, focusing on the experiences of women and the Black community. In 2022 she was named Toronto’s Breakthrough Artist by Toronto Arts Foundation.
CL: Carissa Law, JAYU’s Manager of Advancement
SG: Shelly Grace
CL: How/when did you begin writing poetry?
SG: I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I began writing poetry, but it was probably well before I even knew poetry, whether it was journal entries or moody social media statuses. I come from a family of storytellers, my dad used to write me short stories, one of my favourites is “Shelly Grace With The Mess All Over The Place”. As someone who struggled with speech as a child, writing felt safe.
CL: What intrigued me the most about your work is the overarching focus on community healing. That motivation is palpable in your performances, the way you emote commands the room and feels pervasive yet close to heart. How you anchor your body within the space while directing the flows of signals gives rise to a question about the roles affect and physical presence play in the art of spoken-word poetry: will you speak on how they’re conceived in the interest of community healing?
SG: No one has asked me this before nor have I really spent time thinking about this. I think there is a level of unapologetic energy I try to give on stage when performing my community-focused pieces. That could show up as simply being loud, or taking up space, even stomping—to get the weight of these stories across. When it comes to softer pieces, because not all healing is gentle— typically it isn’t—I try to create a sense of intimacy and trust, inviting people to listen fully. No matter the size of your audience, every poem is a moment.
CL: Allow me to share a part of your Artist Statement here:
“In all true healing, there is understanding, there is immense sonder. With what I knew of June I tried to put myself in her shoes and write not only from my perspective but hers as well. In many ways, this is the closest I will ever get to her as this practice allowed me to make room for another soul to write through me.”
Is this a philosophy you abide by across subject matters, where you consciously decide to cede parts of your ego and almost render yourself as a vehicle?
SG: This was for a particular installation project and my first real exploration into character building underpinned by the subject of empathy: how to honour another’s voice and write from their perspective to gain understanding.
I think in terms of ego, there is a healthy, optimal amount, but to write beyond oneself, for community and a larger purpose, is an active exercise. The majority of my work is centered around my life and experiences, so I don’t think I am a vehicle in the process; there is a level of selfishness in my work but it also allows for authenticity and credibility.
CL: Over the years, beyond lending your voice to collectives, you’ve facilitated social justice-inflected workshops and residencies that have a pragmatic emphasis on braiding art with marketing and other career-oriented skills. Not that there needs to be any separation between aspects of your life, but is there any difference in the way your work evolves and is received in those disparate contexts? What emerged from these mentorship experiences, and how has it fed into what you create for art institutions?
“ Learning is a lifetime experience: working with youth is a big passion of mine partly because I am always so inspired”
SG: I view most of my marketing and communications work as corporate and brand storytelling. I am a storyteller in all that I do. Within the corporate space there is definitely a larger emphasis on research, trying to locate and articulate an organization’s voice. Truthfully I enjoy that process, and to a lesser degree it applies to my own poetry as well when it comes to audience consideration.
I recently ran a workshop series called “The Art and Business of Storytelling” for GTA-based artists where I tried to guide them in speaking about themselves and marketing themselves. Learning is a lifetime experience: working with youth is a big passion of mine partly because I am always inspired, in awe of their bravery to be themselves. We often lose that as adults, they remind me to be me. All the best artists had truly lived and engaged with people, and I am honoured that I get to do this through mentorship.
CL: Your latterly launched project with Vibe Arts, where you work as an art educator and performer, is described as a representation for Black women in the city—tell us more about the project itself as well as the features of Black women you included therein but find wanting or warped in the popular imagination.
SG: I spent years and years taking long trips on the TTC to work and school and so often you see these ads that don’t speak to you. So often you see people who don’t look like you. So often you feel incredibly alone in such a populated city. I remember the moments in which I would see another Black woman and how much my day would shift just from a smile or a look, how the sense of loneliness would fall away. When I was given the opportunity to have my art exhibited in a TTC subway station, I wanted for other Black women to experience the same.
CL: This year you paired up with poet Martin Gomez and took on the photography arm of the collaboration where you examined the underbelly of resilience for the Black community. If the dignity of the Black community is the leitmotif that compasses your practice as a spoken-word poet to the same extent as a visual artist, how would you describe their divergences in the way you enlist their respective lexicon?
SG: I am very much still becoming comfortable as a visual artist, it still makes me incredibly nervous, even in acknowledging. With my poetry I focus on my own stories and have taken a similar approach with my visual art in the form of self portraits. Although these are stories of self, they speak as much to the realities of being a Black woman. I have been working on stepping outside of self portraits this year: comfort can be a cage, and I want to break free.
CL: Your lodestar, inspiration, patron saint?
SG: My mother, Sara, is my everything.
Shelly continues to be unapologetically Black, loud, giving, and a force.