David Ayala Engages Queer Aesthetics, Baltimore, and Moral Responsibility

Photography by Jaadyn Rogers. Video Damon J. Barnes.

This NOV 2024 The Vanguard Issue story is available in print.

David Ayala is a Baltimore-based artist whose work explores themes of queerness, religion, and the human body.

Originally from Iowa, David discovered their artistic voice while studying at the University of Iowa before pursuing an MFA at the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA). Their practice blends the sacred with the sensual, using elements of Christian iconography and nudity to challenge conventional narratives and evoke a sense of vulnerability and whimsy. David’s art is as much about engaging with his own identity as it is about provoking thought and dialogue around contemporary issues.

Ayala’s work combines oil paint with materials like glitter, wax, glass, and nail polish to create layered, textured visual experiences across their body of work. Their artwork has notably been exhibited at Sacred Spaces in Iowa City in 2020; Cotyledon’s No Place Like Homo in Baltimore in 2023; The LeRoy E. Hoffberger School of Painting’s Constellations in Baltimore in 2023; and xyz in New York City in 2024.

Relaxed in the cozy artist lounge of the Night Owl Gallery, where David is a resident artist in the vibrant Station North Arts District, we delved into the nuances of their subject matter, the moral responsibilities of being an artist, and the journey of discovering Baltimore's rich art scene.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

David Ayala: It wasn't really until college, kind of later in college, that I was starting to feel like I could take up queerness as a theme of the work. I'm trying to think of how to put my thoughts out.

But I, even then, I think I was bogged down by this over-seriousness. When I look at some of the past paintings, they were big and frontal and kind of austere, like dull color palette, and they were really serious works that I don't think left room for any of the kind of kitchen camp humor that I think is really central to a queer experience also. And like not only that, but the beauty, the whimsy, yeah.

Damon Barnes: And how do you use religion to tell stories that are relevant to contemporary audiences?

DA: Well I think religion is something that is really, something that a lot of people are familiar with and can relate to, and it's a cornerstone that we can kind of touch with. Another part of it is I have light skin and a beard and long curly hair, and if I paint a self-portrait somebody's going to say it looks like Jesus. That's just a thing that I have to be aware of and contend with.

And it opens up a lot of really interesting opportunities, I think, for me as a creative to be able to use those kinds of references. And also like as many problems that I have with the Catholic Church, she gave us a really great catalog of images to work from, and it would just be a shame to cast all that aside. It's just a bunch of really ready-made references.

It's a great jumping-off point.

DB: Another aspect of your art, nudity and the reclining nude, pops up quite a lot in your portraits. I wanted to know when you realized nudity was art.

DA: I don't know when I realized that, or like when I realized that it was art. But I think a really important part of becoming an adult is realizing that nudity is not inherently sexual. And that is in and of itself, I think, is a really huge revelation that people have come to on their own.

But the body is our way of interacting with and understanding the world around us. And everything is through touch and smell and taste and all of these corporeal experiences that are the only way that we really have to interact in the world. Or maybe not an only way, but it's something that's outside of the intellectual, it's corporeal, it's all in feeling.

And I think when you strip away clothing, especially in a painting, you can really get to the core of that human sensuality. And I mean sensuality in more than just a sexual way. I mean it like in of the senses, you know, just the way that you're able to ground yourself in the world.

DB: I think one other interesting aspect is some of your work does have people in the work that are looking at the person who is reclining.

Who are those onlookers in your art?

DA: I, so I don't know if I think of that in a sense of literal, like a literal scene. It's, I think, more like a construction in my mind, and that's kind of, I guess, how I imagine the viewer seeing it as an imagined construction as opposed to a real thing. And I think the onlookers at the nude body is about a kind of vulnerability and a kind of voyeurism that you may or may not have any kind of control over, or like even awareness of.

But there are people watching you all the time, from various different kinds of perspectives and points of view and with different motivations. But yeah, I think especially in the ones where it's a nude figure laying out with people looking on, it's mostly about vulnerability.

DB: What interests you about Christian iconography?

DA: Wow, what doesn't interest me about Christian iconography? I mean, it's first of all, like, super fucking gay. Like, so much Christian art is so queer in so many different ways, or like, at least could be interpreted through a queer lens really easily.

I love the drama. I love the glitz. And I love the mystery.

There's a kind of a sense of ritual in the church. There's a sense of the unknown, the secrets that I think is all super alluring. And I mean, it's all drama.

And I love the theatrics, the costumes, the ornate settings of everything that's happening in a cathedral. I think it's such a rich playground to pull from, or maybe like a library or catalog more than a playground. But that too.

And it's something that so much of the culture is already familiar with. And that's another thing that you have to be aware of as an artist is like, what the culture around you or the people around you at your point in time, are talking about and thinking about and how they're understanding the things around them in the world. Because if you can make work that taps into that, you can make work that is going to be impactful and live beyond you.

And I think that's the goal of many artists.

DB: Absolutely. How do you look at or read artwork? And what questions do you ask when you are the onlooker?

DA: I think a lot of it comes down to first impressions, which maybe isn't always entirely fair. But like, does it draw me in right away? And then do I know what I'm looking at?

Or do I have to negotiate what I'm looking at? I remember the first time I went to see Salman Toor. He had a show at the BMA a couple years ago, I guess at this point.

But I was completely unfamiliar with his work. I had no idea what I was walking into. And I was like, really taken aback.

I was like, have you seen it? Oh my god, I have a catalog you should flip through. Just the most amazing queer paintings, just beautiful little moments of intimacy, uncertainty.

And also big scenes with crowds in a club or like cruising in a forest or like things that you, I don't think can understand, unless you've experienced queerness. That's really hard to put into a painting. And, even before I have had any thoughts of these objects as paintings as art objects, or really tried to pick apart the contents of the paintings, I find myself like completely enamored with just what they are in front of me.

Or another example is Sam Gilliam. And those are abstract paintings. They're not queer at all. But it was this materiality in those that really drew me in.

And I don't think I've ever been so struck by abstract paintings before either. It was really all in the materiality, it kind of transcended the paintings in this really incredible way. Yeah, I think those are the things that I'm looking for in paintings.

DB: Where do you start when you are working on a new piece?

DA: It's so it's really hard to start. Initially, there's a lot of searching and discarding and painting over things. Just tons of pressure when you are first starting off.

I usually find once I've made a couple of paintings on a similar subject, and I have some momentum built, I can really get to rocking and rolling and pumping out some other paintings along the same lines, but you have to get into that groove. Which maybe is starting to happen now. But it's definitely like, since getting into this new studio, it's taken a few months to really feel like I have gained momentum. But that's super essential. 

DB: How long have you had the studio again?

DA: I moved in in the fall. I don't remember exactly when but it was August, September-ish, I think 2023. Yeah, so it's been a little less than a year. And it's taken about that time to really settle in.

DB: Yeah. I resonate with what you said about just finding a groove and maybe you're a little unclear about where you want to start. But once you start it, you're finding it from the ether.

And it comes to you. I feel like it is a skill to sort of tap into that ether and let it come to you. Did you have to find that? Was it a process for you to find that ability?

DA: Yeah, I think that's a really good question. Because I, as an artist, you hear people throw the word talent around a lot. And like, talent is a thing that can be helpful, but it's so limited.

I think skill is a way more valuable word. Because you, you have to put in work. You can be the most talented artist on the planet. But if you're not putting in the work into honing your skills, you're not–you're never going to meet any of your real potential.

And, yeah, it takes a lot of determination and takes time and dedication. I think grad school was actually super, super helpful. And like, ways that I didn't really expect it to be.

I almost didn't go and I'm really glad that I did. Not that I think you need to go to grad school to be a successful artist, I think you totally don't need formal schooling. But it definitely propelled me a lot further a lot faster than I think I would have gone on my own.

Precisely because you have a critical community that is pushing you in ways that you wouldn't push yourself normally. And really exercising those muscles that are hard to get to.

DB: It sounds like it's really about developing your skill. And then being able to have that technical ability to carry out a thought, carry out a vision. And that's really what's going to help you catch and achieve those masterpieces.

DA: Yeah, totally. One of my professors described a painting as a thought. And he would say that's kind of the difference between a painting and an illustration.

Where an illustration is a drawing of an idea, but a painting is the idea. And that's kind of a hard distinction to really parse out. Like, you say it, and it sounds really clever.

But then you're like, ‘What does that really mean?’ And it's, I don't know, it's easy to get into the business of illustration, in the sense that you're like, you have a concept. And you put it to paper in a way that can be read and understood.

And then that's all that thing is. Whereas I think, what we're looking for in a quote-unquote painting is something that can go beyond a single thought or a single thing. It can be interpreted, and it can be understood. And each gesture means something kind of different. It might mean something different to every single person that uses it. 

DB: In an Instagram post you shared about creating the beaded curtain we saw, you shared how it started to represent what was happening in Palestine. How do you contend with the moral responsibility of being an artist at this moment, where US artists are facing censorship and difficulties with being anti-genocide, anti-apartheid, and anti-war? How do you contemplate that responsibility?

DA: I think we're in the belly of the beast, the imperial heart. I think it's incredibly, incredibly important for us specifically. And the whiter you are, the more I think that applies to you too.

To speak out against it. I remember at the beginning of October, November, at the beginning of the current onslaught, I remember thinking, ‘What would it be like to be an artist, in so-called Israel, who understands what's happening and sees it for what it is?’ Like, trying to imagine myself in that kind of a situation, and what I would do, what kind of work I would make, how probably scary that would be.

It's dangerous to take that position in a place like that. And that was before I really think I understood the scope of the United States' involvement. And as time went on, it was more and more revealed how many weapons we're sending. We're bypassing Congress to do this. We're lying about casualties. We're lying about massacres. We're cracking down on student protests, and just the horrible ways that not only our government has been responding, but almost every single institution has responded, really made it clear to me that ‘Oh, I don't even have to imagine what it would be like to be this artist in so-called Israel because I am in the heart.

DB: Is there anything you would like to say to the institutions that are here in Baltimore?

DA: Just that I've been so disappointed. It's really shattered a lot of my perceptions about where I live and what these things stand for. Like, I always knew that the United States had some really horrible foreign policy legacies, and you know, I knew we did terrible things, but I didn't fully understand the scope of it until, you know, 10 months ago.

And in learning more about Palestine and the history of the United States-Israel relationship, it's revealed a lot about other kinds of relationships that we've had with other countries, and even domestically, just within our own. So much has become just so painfully clear in the last 10 months. I think a lot about the kind of illusions that I've had about particular leaders and politicians who I thought were on our side. For the most part, they're not.

DB: This is actually something I've been really thinking about, the divide between art workers and the institutions that want to work with us. There's been a very clear and irritating, is the word that's coming to me, divide between, you know, the supposed social values of museums and galleries and such. The idea that those spaces can be quote-unquote neutral spaces and all, and the sort of mess that comes with that idea as well.

You said you were disappointed, does that disappointment extend to the art world itself? I know a lot of artists are very heartbroken and upset about the silence from institutions across the country.

DA: Yeah, I mean, I think I think there's for a really long time been a lot of contention between artists and the art world, or at least like the major financial aspect. The galleries and the auction houses. I think it's been no secret for a really long time that those are two different camps with different values and goals. I guess it's, in hindsight, not really surprising that Zionism is so prevalent in these institutions, and particularly the leadership roles of these institutions. I know something that we've seen a lot is, like you said, artists and creatives and people kind of on the ground level, wanting to advocate for Palestinians, and wanting to, you know, do what they can to make some kind of positive impact, and then be shut down by people at the very, very top.

That's happened a few different times at a few different places, and I don't know, maybe it's time for us to leave those institutions and build our own thing. I can say that as somebody who's young, and kind of just starting in their career, and doesn't really have a lot of institutional support to lose yet, but I know there's been a few artists that have been very publicly outspoken, and even canceled some shows, or like, you know, left, pulled their work out of certain places, and I think that's the stand that we all need to have. I think it's scary to be an artist because so many things are uncertain, particularly finances, so it's hard to resist institutional protection, but I think we have an obligation to when it means literal genocide.

DB: It would be following a radical tradition of artists, especially Black artists, in this country of, on the one hand, rejecting the institutions and saying art for the community, art on the street, and then also not lending our art and ourselves to institutions until we can see an actual interest and commitment to decolonization work and improvement in the institutional invisibility of artists.

My last question. How did you find Baltimore, and in what ways does it nurture you as an artist?

DA: I went to undergrad at the University of Iowa, and I was looking for grad programs, and a professor of mine said to check out MICA. So I went to their website, and there was a free application for the Loretta E. Hofberger School of Painting. Free applications are not common, so I applied for that shit, and I didn't really know anything about MICA or about Baltimore or anything at all.

I was just like, free application, let's go. And then I got a call for the interview a couple of weeks later, and thought, ‘Okay, I guess I'll look at what the school is’. It turns out it was actually a really good program at a really good school, which was super exciting. And so I graduated undergrad in 2020, right into the pandemic, and then I took a year off where I lived in Des Moines, and in May of 2021, moved to Baltimore, and I really didn't know anything about Baltimore at all.

My touchstone for it was the movie Hairspray, and that's all I had. Also, in rural places, people are afraid of cities, and so everybody was constantly telling me, be careful, don't go outside at night, have pepper spray or some way to protect yourself, don't be another number, please. Like, it was serious, and I was nervous, like, I'm not gonna lie [laughs].

Even the first couple weeks after we got here, I didn't go out after dark, even though I was literally–I didn't know that– I was in one of the safest neighborhoods in the city I could be in. Like, it's beautiful. And Baltimore is really showing me that that's all not true at all. It's a really wonderful place and I've been so amazed by the community here, and the way that people show out to support each other.

People love each other in this goddamn city. They're so welcoming. The first show that I did with a friend of mine from school was just in a little DIY space, and we didn't really know anybody in the city outside of our program. So we put up printed flyers on light posts everywhere, and so many people showed up for that.

People love to support each other in the city, and the creative community is also so incredible and so vast and diverse. I never imagined the amazing creative community that I would find here. Literally, anytime I go anywhere and have a conversation, it feels some kind of new, amazing connection and opportunity is materializing.

It's like how I met you and, a year and a half later, it's turned into a whole thing. You just really never know what's going to happen, and that's what I so admire about Baltimore. John Waters said this in an interview, that Baltimore is one of the few larger cities where it's still cheap enough to have some kind of sense of bohemia, and creatives can live there with not a lot of money and really still kind of have this kind of authentic experience as creatives, which is really hard to do in New York City or LA or Washington, DC or Miami, you know? So Baltimore has really given me a lot, and I really love the city.

DB: Man, yes, yes, feeling the charm. 

DA: Yeah, feeling the charm.