Story & Lesson Highlights with Isis Kenney of East Orange

Isis Kenney shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Isis, so good to connect and we’re excited to share your story and insights with our audience. There’s a ton to learn from your story, but let’s start with a warm up before we get into the heart of the interview. What are you being called to do now, that you may have been afraid of before?
As an artist and designer, like many people, I’ve experienced my share of ups and downs. I’ve been fortunate to find success creatively, but I’ve also struggled—with balance, moving repeatedly, being misunderstood and saying goodbye to jobs and friends. It’s all part of the game of life. As a woman and artist, I’ve had to navigate complex situations and overcome many challenges. But over time, I’ve learned that every setback can also be a setup for something greater.

Now, in my life I’m being called to surrender. Surrender means trusting that if I stay aligned with my purpose, my creativity, and my spirit, then everything is either as a blessing or a lesson. Just keep moving forward.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Isis Kenney—artist, creative director, and founder of Hip Hop Fine Art. My work honors the legacy of hip hop culture through a distinctive blend of storytelling, design, and visual innovation. My creative journey began with a desire to fill cultural and visual gaps I didn’t see reflected in mainstream media and art spaces. Before fully stepping into the art world, I worked as a community advocate. That experience revealed how powerful visual communication can be in promoting equity, justice, and representation. This laid the foundation for Hip Hop Fine Art: a bold, visual movement that celebrates hip hop’s roots while engaging critical conversations about race, power, identity, and culture. I believe art should be meaningful, accessible, and immersive—not just something to hang on a wall.

Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
Before the world tried to define me, I was simply Isis—rooted in the strong identity my parents instilled in me. I was always drawn to art, always creating, but I didn’t yet understand where I belonged within it. I struggled to see how my voice fit into the larger picture. It took time, growth, and challenges to truly find my place. Through those experiences, I began to trust my vision and build the confidence to share it with the world. That’s when I truly began to reclaim who I’ve always been.

Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
Absolutely. In 2015, my father—who was my best friend, biggest cheerleader, and lifelong mentor—became very ill. At first, I didn’t fully understand what was happening, but I eventually learned he was battling dementia. Watching someone so strong, wise, and vibrant begin to fade in that way was heartbreaking. I was fortunate to spend the year before he passed deeply connected with him—celebrating holidays, birthdays, and sharing everyday moments we didn’t always have growing up.
When he passed away in 2016, the day before my birthday, I felt completely shattered. I didn’t know who I was without him. He wasn’t just my father—he was the person I went to for advice, strength, joy, and understanding. Losing him left a hole in my spirit. I truly felt like I might give up. I was grieving, numb, and questioning everything, including my purpose. But the only thing that kept me grounded was my art. Even in the midst of that darkness, opportunities kept showing up—art shows, events, collaborations. It felt like God wasn’t going to let me stop. Creating became my way of surviving. I poured my pain into my work, and even though I was functioning, I was still carrying deep grief. For years, I didn’t realize how much I was suppressing. I just kept going. It took nearly a decade for me to fully move through the stages of grief and find peace with his absence. I still miss him every day. I still want to call him when something good happens. But now I try to live in a way that honors him—to make him proud. I carry my father’s spirit in everything I do.

Sure, so let’s go deeper into your values and how you think. What are the biggest lies your industry tells itself?
There are quite a few. One of the biggest lies is that digital art isn’t “real” art or that collage isn’t a legitimate, traditional medium. Another myth is that Hip Hop isn’t a culture, or worse—that it has no roots or wasn’t born in the Bronx. That erasure is intentional. Hip Hop is global, but its foundation is Black, Latinx, and deeply tied to African ancestral traditions of rhythm, storytelling, and resistance.
There’s also the belief that to be relevant as a creative, you have to be constantly visible on social media. That’s a lie rooted in performance over substance. Real creative work often happens off-screen, in silence, and over time.

Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: What do you think people will most misunderstand about your legacy?
I think one of the biggest misunderstandings will be the belief that I always had a clear, polished vision for Hip Hop Fine Art from the start. People see what it is now—the range, the presence, the impact—but they don’t always understand the evolution that got it here.
Hip Hop Fine Art began with me, alone in my room, surrounded by posters, creating from instinct and love. It wasn’t always a brand or a business. It was personal. It was healing. It was raw expression. The growth happened through trial, risk, failure, and persistence.
I think some people will assume it was all intentional from day one, but the truth is—this legacy was built step by step, with heart, hustle, and a vision that kept expanding as I did.

Image Credits
Kenji BC ( mindofkenji)