Some people grow up with crayons and cartoons.
I grew up with color. Texture. Linework. Story.
I grew up with October Gallery.
Tucked inside the heart of Philadelphia and rooted in the soul of our people, October Gallery wasn’t just a space to buy art—it was a school of thought. A sanctuary. An archive. And for me, a classroom where Black brilliance hung on the walls and whispered it’s lessons.
Before I knew what a curator was, I had already become one.
The Original Eye-Openers
Evelyn and Mercer Redcross did more than open a gallery in 1985—they opened a portal. Through October Gallery, they created access to Black art in a way that was personal, intentional, and revolutionary.
Their mission? Connecting People with Art.
Their legacy? Immeasurable.
From exhibitions to art expos, they turned the city into a living museum of African American expression. I had the privilege of not only walking their halls but working their shows—including their iconic Annual Philadelphia Art Expo.
And even more personally? Lamar Redcross, their son, is my childhood friend.
This wasn’t just exposure. It was immersion.
Black Art Is Archive
We talk a lot about preserving culture. But what Evelyn and Mercer built was a living archive.
Art wasn’t a luxury item here. It was necessity. It was narrative. It was resistance and remembrance.
And it wasn’t just what was painted—it was what was captured. Art as a cultural snapshot. Each piece a timestamp. A portal. A “re-cord” of where we’ve been, and a “re-membering” of who we are.
October Gallery reminded us that art is never just decoration—it’s documentation. It’s declaration.
The walls of October Gallery have seen the faces of legends—Jill Scott, Andrew Turner, Dr. Samella Lewis, Billy Dee Williams, Dick Gregory, The O’Jays, and more. But what moved me most was how they also made space for emerging artists, young creators, and everyday people to feel seen.
This gallery didn’t just showcase art. It democratized access. It nurtured new eyes. It said: You belong here. Your story matters too.
Legacy Hangs Heavy (In the Best Way)
The first time I heard someone say, “Black art isn’t just about what we make, it’s about what we remember,” it clicked. That’s what October Gallery gave me. That’s what Evelyn and Mercer gave all of us.
Through October Gallery, I saw that curation could be ministry. That every brushstroke could be an offering. That we don’t just observe art. We inherit it.
Because art doesn’t just reflect culture—it influences it.
It was true then, and it’s still true now.
Art Is Influence.
So when I say that I am a cultural curator today—a creator who weaves music, fashion, art, and storytelling into legacy work—just know: the blueprint was born in Philly. At the corner of Greene Street and greatness.
We Been Fresh. We Been Framed. We Been Free.
This week, during the Fresh Since 79™ campaign, I salute October Gallery not just as an art institution, but as an ancestral portal.
Their work reminds us that fine art is Black history. That visual storytelling is memory with a pulse. That hanging a piece on the wall is another way of saying: We were here. We mattered. We created.
So to the ones who gave us eyes—thank you.
To the ones still looking to find their vision—walk through October Gallery’s doors.
It will change how you see the world.
Because it changed me.
Legacy Assignment (from the Cultural Alchemy Journal)
Day 11: Whose walls first reflected your story? What images made you feel seen?
Revisit that memory. Honor it. Then create something from that place.
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