Story & Lesson Highlights with Darian Stewart ( BCIMANARTIST) of Harlem

We’re looking forward to introducing you to Darian Stewart ( BCIMANARTIST). Check out our conversation below.

Darian , really appreciate you sharing your stories and insights with us. The world would have so much more understanding and empathy if we all were a bit more open about our stories and how they have helped shaped our journey and worldview. Let’s jump in with a fun one: What are you most proud of building — that nobody sees?
What I’m most proud of building,something most people don’t see, is the emotional and spiritual foundation behind my art practice. My work is about more than the final image or installation; it’s about creating spaces for people to feel, to see themselves, and to question the narratives that shape how we move through the world.

What’s unseen is the inner work that fuels it my practice, the process of confronting my own history, identity, and the complexities of being a biracial, queer Black man in the South. I’ve built a practice rooted in empathy and truth-telling, one that aims to move people not just visually, but emotionally and collectively.

Even if viewers don’t see all the reflection, healing, and intention that goes into each piece, they often feel it, and that’s what matters most to me. I’m proud of building that invisible bridge between my personal truth and someone else’s recognition of their own.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Darian Deshawn Stewart, AKA ” BCIMANARTIST” short for “Because Im an Artist”, and I’m a multidisciplinary artist originally from Arkansas, now based in New York. My practice merges multimedia collage with materials like beads, rhinestones, fabric, and paint to create layered compositions that speak to the complexity of identity and lived experience.

Much of my work draws from my own journey navigating life as a queer Black man, a father, a lover, and a free spirit and how those identities intersect within the broader landscape of America. I explore themes of belonging, the African diaspora, sexual liberation, queerness, and the duality of being both Black and white. My art is a place where I reclaim space, challenge singular narratives, and build worlds where others can see themselves reflected.

What makes my practice special to me is that it’s deeply personal yet communal. Every piece is both a self-portrait and a mirror, inviting viewers into conversations about identity, perception, and freedom. Beyond the surface layers of texture and color, there’s a deeper emotional foundation, one built on vulnerability, storytelling, and connection.

Right now, I’m continuing to expand this dialogue through new works that explore visibility, spirituality, and how we construct beauty and belonging. Whether it’s in the studio or through community-based projects, I’m always interested in how art can move people and help us see ourselves ,and each other more clearly.

Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. What was your earliest memory of feeling powerful?
My earliest memory of feeling powerful was as a kid, realizing I had a gift for creating. I remember drawing and making things that caught people’s attention: teachers, friends, even family, and seeing their reactions made something click in me. It wasn’t just about being “good” at art; it was the feeling of being able to translate something from my imagination into the world and have people feel it.

Growing up, especially in Arkansas, that realization gave me a sense of agency I didn’t always feel elsewhere. Art became this space where I could define myself on my own terms. It was the first time I understood that I could shape how people saw me, not by changing who I was, but by showing them what I saw. That sense of creative power has never left me.

Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
Yes, there was a time I almost gave up. In 2018, I was diagnosed with HIV, and it completely shifted how I saw myself and the world around me. In that moment, everything felt heavy. The stigma, the fear, the uncertainty of what life would look like moving forward. For a while, I carried a deep silence about it, like my body and my story had somehow betrayed me.

But over time, I realized that the same vulnerability that broke me open could also be my strength. I turned to my art not just as an escape, but as a way to heal and reclaim myself. My practice became a mirror, a space where I could confront the parts of me I once wanted to hide and transform them into something powerful, beautiful, and true.

Art gave me a reason to keep going. It reminded me that survival itself is an act of creation and that by telling my story, I’m not just speaking for myself, but for others who have felt invisible or ashamed. What almost ended me became the foundation for my voice as an artist.

Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? What do you believe is true but cannot prove?
I genuinely believe that aliens are real, even if I can’t prove it. When I look at how vast and intricate the universe is, it feels almost impossible to think we’re the only form of intelligent life out there. There’s too much mystery, too much unexplored space, for Earth to be the singular exception.
For me, it’s not just a sci-fi belief; it’s a spiritual and creative one. The idea that there are other beings, energies, or civilizations existing beyond what we can see expands my sense of what’s possible. It reminds me that we’re part of something much bigger than ourselves.
As an artist, I think about that often, the unseen, the unknown, the otherworldly. Believing in aliens isn’t just about life on another planet; it’s about believing in imagination, in infinite potential, and in the beauty of what we haven’t yet discovered.

Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. Are you doing what you were born to do—or what you were told to do?
I’m doing what I was born to do. For a long time, I followed the paths that felt safe or expected: going to school, learning design, finding ways to make creativity fit within structure. But deep down, I always knew my purpose was bigger than a job title or someone else’s definition of success.

Art has always been my language, my way of processing the world and connecting to others. Becoming a full-time artist and designer wasn’t about following a plan. It was about listening to that inner voice that kept saying, this is who you are. Every time I create, I feel that alignment between purpose and passion.

So no, I’m not doing what I was told to do. I’m doing what I was meant to do. Building something that comes from my spirit, using my hands and my story to move people, and turning my lived experience into something that lives beyond me.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.bcimanartist.com
• Instagram: bcimanartist
• Facebook: Darian Deshawn Stewart
• Other: TIKTOK: bcimanartist