For artist and DJ Quiana Parks, art and music are two sides of the same coin. With an unflinching honesty, the self-defined "turntablist" is building a world of her own, giving a spotlight to narratives of joy, resilience and grief drawn from her life and those around her along the way.
It’s a duality pulses through her party series, aptly titled Parks & Rec, which has featured luminaries such as Just Blaze and Vashtie, alongside Eden, Dede Lovelace and Stonie Blue. “A-Trak’s mom was my principal, so I’ve known him since I was 14,” she tells Hypeart. “He’s seen me go from being this nerdy art student to seeing me as a DJ.” Born in Paterson, New Jersey, just a short drive from the birthplace of Jersey Club, Parks grew up surrounded greatness and intends to reflect that energy back on her community.
From secretly saging her fair booth to her use of malachite and lapis crystals in her last collection, a profound spirituality and growth echoes throughout her practice. At 19, Parks was diagnosed with blood cancer. “It changed me forever. At such a young age, feeling like I wasn’t going to get to live anymore, it was an eye-opener that tomorrow is not promised.”
Over a decade later, her perseverance continues to reveal itself in unexpected ways. In 2020, Parks began selling her artwork outside her parents’ storefront, which caught the attention of one Mickalene Thomas, eventually landing her work in the Brooklyn Museum’s 200th anniversary exhibition.
Ahead of her tenth Art Week in Miami, Parks recalled her first year presenting, where she purchased her own booth, and with the support of family and friends, sold every single piece. In a full circle moment, she made her return to Scope, this time as this year's Artist-in-Residence. For the latest edition of Hypeart Visits, we caught up with Parks in her cozy Brooklyn studio as she discussed the power of connection, creative healing and how she finds balance within her expansive practice.
“I just love to collect these stories and feel the resilience in them – that’s the baseline for all of my pieces.”
Can you recall the first time you felt moved by art?
My brother passed away when I was eight and I got obsessed with drawing him. That was the beginning for me. Art has always been a form of expression, and I don’t think it was a choice because I did it for therapeutic reasons.
When I was 12, I got into fashion illustration which led me to Rosa Parks Fine Arts High School, where I learned about artists like Georgia O’Keefe, George Kondo, Picasso – the staples. Especially seeing Basquiat’s work and how he would speak on, “I’m not a Black artist, I’m an artist,” that meant a lot to me at that age.
Before DJing and becoming an artist full-time you worked in fashion, music marketing and design. How do these experiences inform your current practice?
As a creative, you have to wear all the hats. When I started DJing, I had my own website and EPK before I had a gig. I knew what my brand was going to be, I knew I wanted to be a big-ass kid. When I was a young I was obsessed with Barbie dolls and that’s part of my branding: having fun and creating my own world. The results are never nearly as important as the journey, and these are gems I’ve collected from each experience.
Your work is being exhibited in the Brooklyn Museum, and you’re Scope’s Artist-in-Residence this year. How are you feeling?
I’m ecstatic and nervous. Although I’ve been an artist for so long, this is all new to me. It feels like when I first started DJing – getting in the mix of it and starting from level one. It’s all exciting, but I’ve worked hard to get here so I feel like it’s deserved.
Also, the fact that I’m doing Scope, DJing and have a booth is nuts! I’m not the first DJ and artist, but for me, I feel like I’m creating my own Barbie world and people are seeing my work for the first time. Seeing it all come together, it’s something that I’m so proud of. My brother is 18 years old and him being able to see this, it’s just awesome.
How would you define your art practice?
I tell my stories, collect experiences from my community and try to make them feel better. I think about the aunties that I never got to meet, which is what “Sankofa” is based on. I reimagined her as a Black woman, but her original form is a bird. I just love to collect these stories and feel the resilience in them – that’s the baseline for all of my pieces.
Each of your paintings is fashioned with beckoning eyes. Could you tell me more about how this style came to be?
It developed over time, allowing myself to just be free with the work. A few years ago, I started getting really into line work, and I found my style by playing with it.
“Mommy and Me” was a painting that defined my work for the first time. That’s the piece that’s in the Brooklyn Museum, she really defined the eyes. I realized that all of these eyes remind me of my mom’s, I never really tell her that, but these almond eyes remind me of my family’s and my own.
“When I go through these changes it’s almost like mourning or grief. I’m never going to be that person again... I wouldn’t be who I am if it wasn’t for her, but she’s gotta go because it’s the death of me.”
How have you seen yourself grow as an artist in the last few years?
The more I practice and spend time with my paintings, the more confident I become and it radiates throughout the work – being more bold with my choices, and changing shit up.
I’ve also become more vulnerable. I just put out a collection on Artsy with the Cierra Britton Gallery called Chapter 10. I’ve always told my stories through my pieces, but this collection was different. It put me through the wringer, I’m not going to lie. It took me a year to get through and I was crying a lot.
There’s one piece called “Yesterday’s Princess,” which is about discovering a new side of myself and letting go of the old me. When I go through these changes it’s almost like mourning or grief. I’m never going to be that person again. I loved her, she was amazing. I wouldn’t be who I am if it wasn’t for her, but she’s gotta go because it’s the death of me. This collection celebrated, but also mourned that death.
When artists put themselves in their work, it becomes a part of them. If it’s super diaristic and deeply personal, they just need to get through it.
I gotta push through it to get that flow back because I’m stuck if I don’t. Being a DJ and an artist can be especially difficult for me because I go from my studio where I let this shit out – cry, journal – to a gig where I have to be this dynamic person that everyone’s expecting.
I have my ebbs and flows. I’ve DJed The Lay Out since 2020, but this year was so difficult to get through, and if I’m not honest through the music, I can’t do it. I’m not the proudest of that set, but that’s where the vulnerability comes in. I see people being so annoyed and I’m like, “I’m sorry, I’m not having the best day. I’m over here painting waves.”
Some songs, though, that’s where I find my people. Another time I played “Ease On Down” from The Wiz. Imagine all these people feeling so happy, seeing each other for the first time in months. A lot of us connect to that song so I played it and saw all these beautiful Black people running up the hill. It was a cool vibe, but when that song came on people went nuts. Then I played “Oh Happy Day,” the Sister Act version. Lost their damn minds.
“I want to keep creating experiences where the audience can see the DJ as an artist and not a jukebox...”
You get to see these worlds converge in your party series “Parks & Rec.” How has it been hosting that?
All of this is a dream. I had been working with Al D., who told me that I needed my own party and I agreed. I’m obsessed with The Office, which is where the name comes from because if you’re watching that, you’re probably going to watch Parks & Rec.
This year, I really got to take it to another level. In February, we took over BRIC for a night, which was one of the coolest experiences I’ve ever had. I’ve been creating art for Parks & Rec since we started in 2019 – special illustrations, animations, commercials – and that’s when people got to see everything I’ve been putting out for years and celebrate the DJs I’ve had for Parks & Rec.
I want to keep creating experiences where the audience can see the DJ as an artist and not a jukebox because we’re not just here to play top 40. I don’t like to think about what’s going to make people react, I don’t feel like that’s honest all the time. When I see a real artist who experiments and creates, giving them a space to do that is a privilege.
What does it mean to you to be able to bring people together in this way and see them celebrate you?
To be honest, it’s an honor. My grandparents ran a church, so when it comes to cultivating and curating community, that’s something I’ve grown up with. Seeing my grandfather preach behind the altar is kind of what you do behind the DJ booth. Bringing people together is something that I’ve learned from them. I’m nothing but honored to get to carry on their tradition.
Nowadays, there is a sense of being creatively involved in multiple things and it’s hard to find the singularity. How do you maintain a balance between curatorship and authorship and the stories that you tell across mediums?
One does affect the other, but I don’t feel whole if I don’t have all of them – it’s like choosing a child. Finding balance is continuing to be authentic to me – remembering how and why I started. Being a multidisciplinary artist means you can do anything. The expression of it changes, but the story stays the same. I’m not even in control of the story, it’s a spiritual thing for me – it’s my purpose.
Photography by Keith Estiler.
