Mickalene Thomas + Derrick Adams

Mickalene Thomas and Derrick Adams are both wildly successful artists who’ve helped define the current era of contemporary art and put Black figuration on the map. As it happens, they’re also longtime friends — sibling-like in their playfulness and affection — who’ve deliberately intertwined their lives and careers. Born a year apart on the same day (they often take a trip together for their shared birthday), the pair met in 1995 as students at Brooklyn’s Pratt Institute, and they’ve remained in the neighborhood ever since.

The two artists boosted each other early on, and, since achieving fame, each continues to feature the other in any shows they curate. Adams even decided on London for his next big show, opening this month at Gagosian on Davies Street, so it would overlap with Thomas’s own presentation at the Hayward Gallery on the South Bank.

Despite their 30-year friendship, the two maintain their artistic independence. “Derrick’s going to be Derrick, and I’m going to be Mickalene,” says Thomas. “There’s a commonality and understanding that we can lean on each other when we need to. And if there’s competition, it’s a healthy competition. It’s like, we gotta do this!”

Thomas, 54, has gained renown for her glamorous depictions of Black women, which often riff explicitly on iconic portraits by the likes of Manet. She imbues her canvases with a retro-1970s sheen, often collaging bright patterns and applying materials like sequins and rhinestones. She also works extensively in photography, always balancing warmth and immediacy with art-historical savvy. (After graduating from Pratt, Thomas earned her MFA at Yale.) She also collaborates frequently with Dior, and has created portraits of Oprah Winfrey, Solange Knowles, and Michelle Obama.

Adams, 55, infuses his bold work with a sly humor. His Cubist-inspired compositions sometimes focus on solo portraiture and other times depict wig and beauty supply stores or other Black-oriented community spaces. He makes sculptures, too — bringing his Pop sensibility to a fiberglass popsicle with shades of Claes Oldenburg, or a textile work that functions as a fabric iteration of his paintings. Adams’s public art installations have ranged from a playground on the National Mall to rideable unicorns at Rockefeller Center and permanent pieces in Penn Station and along Brooklyn’s Nostrand Avenue.

Adams’s London exhibition, “Situation Comedy,” opens at Gagosian’s Davies Street location February 13, and features a number of complex, Americana-themed scenes, including a fanciful canvas showing a grinning Black man who has literally been baked into a pie. Thomas’s retrospective, “Mickalene Thomas: All About Love,” running February 11 to May 5 at the Hayward, features more than 90 works from the past two decades. The show opened at L.A.’s Broad museum and transferred to the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia; it will travel next to Les Abbatoirs in Toulouse (opening June 13).

As close as they are, Thomas and Adams have rarely been interviewed together — so when Further invited them for a freewheeling (and filmed) conversation, the two were all in. We met at one of their go-to restaurants, Roman’s in Fort Greene, which —as they recalled with delight — was previously a red-sauce joint called Cino’s, a beloved student hangout back in their Pratt days. Naturally this set off a lengthy reverie about Fort Greene in the 1990s, when the artists, filmmakers, musicians, and poets of the Brooklyn Bohème were on every stoop and street corner. From there, the friends were off and running, in a conversation lasting more than two hours — laughing, teasing, and praising one another, finishing each other’s sentences, and sharing invaluable insights on creativity, the pros and cons of teaching, where they find inspiration, and the life-changing power of art. Here are excerpts from the conversation — and watch the video for more.

You two met in 1995, correct?

Derrick Adams: ’95, yeah. I was at Pratt, my sophomore year, and Mickalene had just transferred there.

So what would be the ’90s music cue for the montage of your meeting?

Mickalene Thomas: En Vogue would be cool. TLC!

DA: Missy Elliott, Erykah Badu…

MT: Rosie Perez would be the MC.

You go back to when this space was Cino’s, the old red-sauce joint.

MT: Yeah, Cino’s! And there was a diner next door, and Tilly’s across the street.

DA: When we were in school, it was more about what’s the best and the cheapest restaurant.

MT: There was Sprinkles on Myrtle Avenue. It was a Caribbean place where you could get a $5 curried chickpeas and spinach.

DA: Brooklyn Moon coffee shop, which is still here. Cino’s for Italian. There was a Vietnamese place. We would go to Joloff’s, an African restaurant. You would see the people you knew. It wasn’t just people in the creative field.

DA: It was a very different time — everything still had national or local feel.

MT: It was a different type of hustle. I feel like the hustle right now is all about the 15 minutes.

DA: Or luxury. Luxury is something that’s presented as the ultimate aspiration. For us it was more like, What else can you do to support your art? I didn’t think I was going to be selling art. I thought I was gonna be making art, then I would have to somehow subsidize my income.

MT: You weren’t afraid to take these odd jobs. Now you can’t get people to do any job.

How odd were the odd jobs?

MT: I started a sushi business with some other Pratt students. We started doing it on campus and then eventually did it in my apartment. We thought we were going to have one of the first fusion sushi spaces. It was called Element Sushi, based on the five elements. The whole idea was to educate a whole demographic about sushi: We’re Black, we’re young, we love sushi. But a lot of people would just turn up their nose. So we started doing fusion, like with curry chicken. Derrick gave us our first big catering job.

DA: Yeah, I was running a nonprofit gallery in Chelsea [Rush Arts], showing artists. I realized that at a certain point, when you’re a younger artist, if you’re making art only, if you’re not experiencing things that take you out of your comfort zone, then the odds of your work being elevated and more interesting are not good.

MT: All of those experiences in your life come into your art practice — a compass.

DA: The younger generation has a little bit more expectation on what the outcome should be from putting time in as artists.

MT: We both teach. But Derrick runs the painting department at Pratt. I’m usually just a visiting artist.

DA: I feel like every now and then you run up against the student, where you feel you’re privileged to discover someone that people will know later.

MT: You know as soon as you walk in, it’s just the energy. It’s mystical. You can sense that they’re connected to their materials, their space, their thoughts. They’re passionate.

DA: But I will say the ones that I really am drawn to the most are the ones who don’t realize how good they are. I like those students more because that’s the best place for me as an educator to fit in.

MT: Because you have something to offer them.

DA: When they know they are talented, that is a very different relationship.

MT: That’s where most of the students are today. They kind of know it.

DA: You might do all the right things and still not get where you want to go.

MT: It’s always a crapshoot.

DA: There are artists who are despicable who are doing just fine, and as artists who are super cool….

MT: …who are struggling.

DA: But I think the ultimate goal is to be the artist that people can get behind.

MT: I think what is lost on a lot of young artists today is that they don’t see the hard work. I actually was just having a conversation with another artist, and they’re like, “Oh, I want to be like Rashid [Johnson] and I want to be like Derrick Adams.” I was like, well, don’t you know that these two artists have been working in their career, at it for a long time. They didn’t become Rashid Johnson or Derrick Adams overnight.

DA: We’re still becoming!

MT: But a lot of them do want the easy route, and then they get themselves in tricky situations.

What were your first impressions of each other?

DA: When I first saw Mickalene, it just clicked. We became close friends. Like immediately.

MT: Derrick was very popular.

DA: I would do a lot of social things on campus.

ML: He was always bringing the students together, and always involved with the camaraderie of the student body. He started an open mic poetry thing. So he was kind of a star.

DA: It was such an interesting time, because this area [around Pratt] was just full of creatives. There’s plenty of people I’ve seen who probably live in a small apartment, but when they step out on the street or at an event, they are larger than life. There were a lot of people around this area who were not rich, but they were rich to us.

And regardless of what’s been happening with gentrification, there are people who knew us from when we moved here and they’re still here.

MT: And there’s the Brooklyn Bohème [an informal group of Black artists, filmmakers, and comedians in the early 1990s]. That’s still a real thing. There’s some really incredible artists that have paved the way for us as artists and who still exist here…There were always these spaces where we could come together as artists. Also it was before mobile devices. And so one of the things that was happening is that when you needed to be somewhere, you just showed up — on time. We also looked out for each other.

Does your success make friendship easier, because you guys don’t actually need something from the other career-wise?

DA: I think there was a time where we needed things.

MT: We’re not afraid. We have our own set of egos, but we’re not threatened. There’s no threat.

DA: We love what each other’s doing. If I’m working on a project and someone asks me to recommend some artists, I’ll reach out to Mickalene to say, can you recommend some younger artists. We’ve always thought about how to build each other up.

MT: I think I was in the “Greater New York” show in 2005 [at MoMA PS1] because of Derrick. That was a big show…We had crappy studios next to each other in Clinton Hill, in a basement. Luis Gispert, Dread Scott were in that building. I think half the people were getting into “Greater New York.” You were one of the first people the curators selected. He was talking to them about the list of artists, and he was like, “Well, Mickalene is not on the list.” And then they came by my studio.

DA: And that’s how I was showing at Rhona Hoffman gallery, because Mickalene curated a show there, and she put me in it. Rhona said to me, “How come I’ve never met you before? You know Mickalene, you know Kehinde [Wiley].” I said to her, “I’ve been here the whole time!”

MT: I said, “Yeah, you better show Derrick. He’s a great artist.”

DA: It feels good when you recommend a friend who’s ready.

What’s one thing you just admire about Derrick? And vice versa.

MT: I always go back to undergrad and Derrick’s studio practice. One of the things that I admired about him, he worked. He worked a lot. He always had this way of being in his studio and making the best of his time. He was very innovative, always experimental with different ideas and concepts and materials.

And he’s fun. And he keeps it real. He has a way of shade — with that smile, he can be giving you shade and telling you about yourself and you don’t know it. [laughs] But he makes the person still feel good, and they walk away like, “Oh, I just love Derrick.”

DA: The way that Mickalene has incorporated materials into what we see, and the way that they’re done so seamlessly — they are very deceiving.

MT: I love how Derrick tells a story and pulls from some humor, and it could be dark, black humor. It’s not always joyful. When you really look at it, there’s a strong message. His compositions are some of the best compositions of any artist I know today.

DA: You’re not afraid to blow things up, distort things, take things away.

MT: To experiment. Both of us, we’re not afraid to move through different mediums and ideas of our mediums, to tell a story. There are no limitations.

DA: I think artists are successful based on how many people copy their work.

Mickalene, you’re one of the most copied people out there right now. Sequins!

MT: When I started [with the sequins and embellishments] people would be like, “Oh, why is she doing that? It’s so gaudy, it’s so ugly…let’s see how far it goes.” And to me it’s just like…”Okay, we now see how far it went! Ha ha ha!”

Do you take the mimicking as a compliment?

MT: Oh yeah. I have a lot of experience with the material and I invested a lot of my time and thought and creativity, and a lot of people use it, but they don’t understand the material, and they’re just using it as an accoutrement, an embellishment.

DA: As a way of hiding imperfection or the lack of craftsmanship.

MT: They don’t understand the use of the material. I get people saying all the time, “I’m inspired by you.” And I say, well, [this is] not the right direction, and I’ll give up some hints.

I think that’s one of the things that I value about our friendship, Derrick, is that when you’re good at something, then there’s no fear of sharing what you know. There’s nothing to lose.

Somehow it’s in the stars that you would be close.

MT: You might not know that Derrick and I have the same birthday.

DA: January 28. We celebrate our birthday together. We try to do it every year.

Has there been a highlight?

MT: Remember that crazy party? It was at that club?

DA: On Nostrand? Voodoo Lounge.

MT: Voodoo Lounge! That was it. Sometimes we just relax on vacation in Puerto Rico. This year I convinced him to come to London, because this year I have to be in London on my birthday. I have my touring show, “All About Love.” It’s a comprehensive exhibition of my work, about 95 works. You will see some new things — a lot of work that people haven’t seen, because so many people are used to seeing the reclined sitters. And I think it’s a little more than that.

DA: I went to the Barnes [Foundation] for her opening there. So I’m basically touring around Mickalene’s show.

MT: Which is great for both of us. We can cheerlead.

DA: We can find time to be together. When we were in Paris [in the fall], we got an apartment together. We’ve known each other so long. We’ve seen each other grow, maturing with experience, as people, as artists.

MT: We see the struggle — we do all aspects.

Who’s the easier traveler?

MT: I don’t think either of us gets stressed out. Maybe I get a little more stressed out.

DA: She’s more organized.

MT: He’s the good guy. [laughs]. I just have to be treated a certain way. People don’t know about me: I’m obsessive-compulsive and I have ADHD so I get very neurotic and stressed out, and I have a little anxiety. I don’t like disorganization, because I have so much in my head that I need things to be a certain way in order for me to move through. I’ve always been that way. I’m not going to be a last-minute packer, because that makes me anxious the next morning, and I get wigged out, and then I’m not at my best. You gotta know who you are.

DA: When we’re both faced with similar challenges, sometimes, the way I respond may be a little different than the way that Mickalene may respond. But whatever way she responds, I think it’s justified. I say to myself, “Why don’t you do that sometimes?”

MT: When I see him respond in ways I respond, I say, “Oooh, Derrick.” [laughs] Each of us, we’re not stepping out of who we are for no reason. So if we are shutting stuff down…

DA: …it’s our mental space, we have to do it. If something gets out of control, then we have to shut it down. The way we shut it down is different.

MT: We’re ninjas.

DA: If we’re traveling together, Mickalene will say, “They didn’t get you a car?”

MT: If I’m traveling with Derrick, I still make sure he’s taken care of, because I want him to have the best, and I don’t want to see him struggling.

DA: When I had the very last show at Mary Boone Gallery, right before the opening Mickalene said, “You should have a videographer documenting the opening — it might be the last show ever.” She sensed my hesitation and then she said, “I’m going to get it.”

MT: To me, if he’s thriving, then I’m going to thrive. Because you feed off each other. It’s the energy. Like, I want to see him successful. What does it look like if I’m the only one at the table? That doesn’t do anything for my growth…That’s what good friendships are: You look out for each other. You want the best, like you don’t want to see someone being taken advantage of.

You both have a connection to Baltimore, which has sometimes gotten a bad rap.

DA: I’ve always been connected to my hometown. But in 2019 I decided to invest in a nonprofit. So I bought property, I created a retreat, a residency for creatives [The Last Resort] — not just visual artists, but across the board. When I had an opportunity to come across [another] property in Baltimore, I proposed to Mickalene that it would be great for her to have a permanent space.

MT: It’s called Sula’s House, which is conceptually both a social practice, social sculpture for Black women and femmes and a sort of incubator for creatives and discussion and ideas and community building. Especially right now, I think safe spaces and communal healing spaces are going to be even more necessary.

DA: Baltimore has a very particular atmosphere where most of the Black people have not participated in the same growth of creativity as New York. In New York, as a person of color, there are definitely challenges, but the idea of culture being transferred to currency — that’s not something that happens often in a city like Baltimore, because it’s been more of a working-class city.

I’m bringing people to Baltimore from New York because in the community we occupy can be a little redundant. Sometimes we need to step out of New York to see other people doing things in other cities that can inspire us, that are not predicated on the market.

MT: Sometimes it’s just holding up a mirror and showing them what they have.

Ted Loos has been covering arts and culture for more than 30 years. A longtime and frequent contributor to the New York Times, Loos also writes for WSJ. Magazine and is a contributing editor at Galerie magazine. He is based in New York City and the Hudson Valley.