Meet BRYAN D. SMITH AKA PAINTER BRY

We caught up with the brilliant and insightful BRYAN D. SMITH AKA PAINTER BRY a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

BRYAN D. SMITH, we’re thrilled to have you sharing your thoughts and lessons with our community. So, for folks who are at a stage in their life or career where they are trying to be more resilient, can you share where you get your resilience from?

I learned resilience slowly, the way most meaningful things manifest; through life trials, repetition, and showing up on the days I didn’t feel like showing up. I was raised by tenacious examples of determined go-getters, and that grit must’ve rubbed off. I built this practice in the in-between hours: after work, before sunrise, on weekends, and in stolen moments between raising my daughters, loving my wife, and keeping the lights on.

My resilience comes from responsibility; the kind that grows out of loving people and wanting to give them stability, honesty, and something to be inspired by. My kids watch everything I do, and that alone reminds me quitting isn’t an option. I want them to see what it looks like to stay committed to something that asks a lot of you—emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

Painting became the place where I learned how to endure. When you paint long enough, you learn to sit with frustration, start over, fail publicly, fail privately, and trust that a better layer is still possible. The studio taught me that forward motion doesn’t always look like progress, in fact, sometimes it’s just refusing to stop.

And I get resilience from Philadelphia. It’s a city that doesn’t let you pretend to be anything other than what you are. The grit, the humor, the honesty, the work ethic around me… it seeped into my practice. Philly rewards the people who keep showing up, and that’s who I try to be.

My resilience isn’t loud or dramatic. It’s actions over words. It’s built from presence, (observing, reporting, universally), one painted ORU spiral at a time. It’s learning to meet each moment as it comes, even the hard ones, and trusting that the work will meet me there too.

Let’s take a small detour – maybe you can share a bit about yourself before we dive back into some of the other questions we had for you?

I’m a mixed-media painter and muralist based in Philadelphia, and my work is rooted in presence, awareness, and honoring the life of the moment. Everything I make, from large-scale murals to small works on paper, comes from the belief that art is something we live with, return to, and grow alongside. My practice has always been built in real time, in the in-between hours, slowly and intentionally over the last twenty years.

What excites me most is the connection that happens between the work and the viewer. I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything. I’m trying to create openings. Moments where someone pauses, feels something shift, recognizes themselves, or simply feels seen. My recurring symbols: the ORU spiral (Observe, Report, Universally), the diver, the skull-flower hybrids, are all ways of talking about presence, change, and the strange beauty of being human.

Painter Bry Originals has grown into more than a studio practice. It’s murals that become part of a neighborhood’s story. It’s collectors who come back year after year because the work has become part of their lives. It’s open studios filled with family, community, and real conversations. It’s the small rituals; wax seals on certificates, hand-signed edges, thrifted substrates given new life, that keep the work human in a fast-moving digital age.

Right now, I’m expanding the practice in a few meaningful ways. I’m building a new website that will better house my available works, murals, and ongoing projects. I’ve recently brought on a Studio Manager, Daniel Chambers, to help support the growing scope of the work, allowing me to stay focused on painting while the practice continues to evolve sustainably. I’m also developing a long-term series called Studio Seven, a limited-run, collectible art release that connects physical artwork with a private digital archive for supporters. It is a mix of art object, story vault, and behind-the-scenes universe. And as always, I’m continuing to say yes to murals, community projects, and opportunities that align with the heartbeat of the work.

At the end of the day, my focus is simple: stay present, keep painting, and create work that people can carry with them. Art for the moment and for every moment that follows.

Looking back, what do you think were the three qualities, skills, or areas of knowledge that were most impactful in your journey? What advice do you have for folks who are early in their journey in terms of how they can best develop or improve on these?

Looking back, the three qualities that shaped my journey the most were curiosity, consistency, and self-honesty.

Curiosity kept me moving when I didn’t have a roadmap. I didn’t start this career with formal training or a clear template. I followed the questions. “What happens if I try this? What’s underneath this layer? What am I actually feeling right now, and how do I translate that?” Curiosity is fuel. If you stay curious, you never really get stuck, you just shift the question you’re asking.

Consistency is the unglamorous truth behind everything I’ve built. Not talent. Not inspiration. Just showing up after work, before sunrise, on the days when the painting felt like it was fighting back. Anyone early on in their journey should understand this: consistency builds momentum, and momentum builds identity. Even ten minutes a day compounds over years.

Self-honesty might be the most important one. Art will expose you to yourself if you let it. I had to learn when I was bullshitting myself, when I was avoiding something, when I was playing small. Staying honest in the studio made me more honest everywhere else — with my family, my goals, my limits, and the kind of work I actually want to put into the world.

For people at the beginning of their path:
• Follow what genuinely pulls you in, that’s passion.
• Show up even when you don’t feel like it, that’s discipline.
• And be real with yourself, that’s growth.

If you build those three muscles, everything else can be learned along the way.

Any advice for folks feeling overwhelmed?

When I feel overwhelmed, the first thing I do is slow down and return to whatever is right in front of me. Presence has always been my anchor, whether I learned it from painting, from raising my daughters, or from just trying to build a life that makes sense. I try to shift from reacting to observing. What’s actually happening? What’s mine to carry? What can wait?

In the studio, overwhelm shows up when I start forcing an outcome. When I tighten up, the work tightens up. So I step back. I change tools, change colors, move my body differently. One small action breaks the spell. Curiosity takes the place of pressure.

In life, I give myself permission to be human. I go outside for a minute. I clean a little corner of the room. I talk to my wife and kids or check in with my friends. Responsibility keeps me grounded, it reminds me why I’m moving in the first place.

My advice? Don’t freeze, don’t panic. Take one honest step in any direction. It doesn’t have to be big. Momentum starts small, just enough to get you unstuck, and then it builds, layer by layer, the same way a painting finds its form.

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