Notes and Analysis on Inside Out, A Solo Exhibition by Ashaki Wilkins: The Entrepreneur In The Underground Atlanta Art Scene.

 Written and Photographed by Bobbi Guyton

The Inside Out solo exhibit, hosted by emerging Atlanta-based artist Ashaki Wilkins, took place on March 30, 2025, starting at 6 PM. The exhibit featured 13 multimedia works, all created by Ashaki herself. The event was intimate and lively, with over 40 attendees engaging deeply with the art in an atmosphere that was socially charged and energetic. Spanning about four hours, the exhibit was held in a suite on Fulton Industrial and offered drinks, snacks, and music curated by a DJ, cultivating an open, warm, and inviting space.

Many of these works made their debut online via Ashaki’s Instagram, where she often details and records her creative process and shows off her final pieces. Seeing these works in person was an entirely different experience, one that made me question whether digital platforms like Instagram can ever truly convey the full impact of an artwork. Context plays an immensely crucial role in how we perceive art, and this event proved that firsthand. Throughout the night, conversations were organically interrupted by the presence of Ashaki’s work, proof of her artistic and professional prowess. This was especially remarkable given that many attendees were old peers who had not seen each other since high school. Alongside these familiar faces, the show brought together a diverse mix of young creatives and art enthusiasts, all drawn into an environment that encouraged both social connection and artistic appreciation. Despite the bustling energy of the room, the artwork maintained its presence, demanding attention and admiration. Guests found themselves returning to pieces multiple times, drawn in by their depth and vibrancy.

Throughout the evening, I had the privilege of hearing various perspectives on the artwork. Each new conversation reshaped my understanding of not just the pieces but also the people engaging with them. It felt as if every work had its own personality, each revealing new layers of meaning depending on the viewer. The event became a space where both art and human connection flourished in tandem.

One of the most profound aspects of the exhibition was the recurring motif of pearls. This choice was the perfect vessel, aesthetically and metaphorically. Visually, the pearls unified the collection, appearing along the edges of canvases and embedded within the works themselves. The invitation even encouraged guests to accessorize with pearls, which added a sense of cohesion and collective participation. Beyond aesthetics, the symbolism of pearls spoke to the deeper themes of the exhibit. Pearls form when an irritant, often a grain of sand, enters an oyster, prompting it to secrete layers of nacre, transforming the irritation into a precious gemstone. This process mirrors Ashaki’s own artistic journey. She shared that much of her work stems from personal pain, including the loss of her grandmother and young nephew (who had encouraged her to purchase her first gallery-sized canvas).

Beyond personal grief, Ashaki’s art also critiques the societal pressures placed on artists, particularly the expectation to create work that is purely pleasant and easily consumable. Consumer culture often prioritizes the final product over the creative process, encouraging artists to suppress their emotional truths in favor of marketability. By incorporating the pearl motif, Ashaki challenges this narrative, urging viewers to consider the origins of what they deem precious. Her works are not just visually striking, they are born from struggle, transformation, and resilience, and that context is essential to fully appreciating them.

Themes of anger, discomfort, and realism; contrasting with idealism and naturalism; led me to reflect on the broader social climate in which these works were created. Historically, the government has played a significant role in shaping the arts, whether directly or indirectly, by determining what is financially supported and publicly visible. Looking at past artistic movements, we can see how socio-political conditions influenced the art being produced. Richard J. Powell’s World of Art, Black Art discusses how the Great Depression and the rise of fascism sparked political and artistic responses, stating:

“The rise of several Fascist governments during this period (in Germany, Italy, and Spain) also sparked populist political movements in Europe and America. For some, the political and economic programs of Socialism and Communism seemed to be the way to resolve the plight of the proletariat. Many others, especially in the US, questioned the effectiveness of Socialism and Communism in providing meaningful employment for the masses and in saving a collapsed, free-market economy.”

During this time, Roosevelt’s New Deal created the Federal Art Project (1935-1943), which employed artists to produce a variety of works, from paintings and murals to photography and film. This governmental patronage shaped the predominant artistic styles of the era, which tended to be figurative, naturalistic, and narrative-driven. The program’s intent was both humanitarian and propagandist, reflecting the social and economic concerns of the time:

“Among Roosevelt's various job creation measures was the establishment of the Federal Art Project (1935-43) which employed artists to create easel paintings, sculptures, photographs, motion pictures, posters, graphics, and murals, as well as to provide arts-related services to the federal, state, and municipal branches of the US government.”

So how does that context inform our view of Ashaki Wilkin’s work, especially now, when she isn’t working under any institution or government program? She’s independent, and that independence allows us to see her artistic voice more clearly, especially through the lens of history. Flow Free depicts an idealist paradise scene, this pieces works beautifully in contrast alongside the other works in the show. The scene of idealism mirrors the visual language popularized under the Roosevelt era, a kind of “everything’s fine” aesthetic. Yet this isn't the sole language utilized throughout this exhibit: Flow Free is necessary in depicting the realism of this exhibit. Ashaki does not maintain a pessimist or optimistic attitude in her art, she is able to station herself in the middle, where reality lies.

But then comes the shift: her artistic awakening, filtered through the lens of Black pop culture and Afro- Futruism. Her work Mother Nature, inspired by the album art and aesthetic of Erykah Badu marks a turning point. It’s more emotionally resonant, more aligned with who I perceive Ashaki to be. The Afro-futurist influence here is loud and proud, a direct counter to the MAGA-leaning obsession with retro Americana and “traditional” aesthetics. Afro-futurism doesn’t deny the rupture or disconnection from heritage, it acknowledges it, then imagines ways to heal and move forward. It’s not about going back; it’s about transforming.

From there, Ashaki’s work moves inward. Her later pieces are deeply introspective: Raw expressions of grief, healing, and memory. Her ability to put that kind of pain into form is powerful. Not all artists feel like they can do that, especially when capitalism pressures them to produce palatable, marketable art. Think: leisure scenes and aspirational aesthetics. Ashaki steps away from that entirely. Her art reflects her lived experience. During the show, she gave a speech about losing her nephew and grandmother, and how making these pieces helped her confront that pain. It makes you wonder: How many artists before her were grieving in silence, forced to paint over it?

One piece literally screams its resistance: “Fuck being Pleasant,” written in fierce crimson swirls across oil on canvas. It’s a full rejection of what’s been expected of artists in the past.

I would be remised to not consider Atlanta's impact on the artist, a city rooted in Black entrepreneurship, community support, and dreams of sovereignty. Atlanta has more Black-owned businesses and professionals than anywhere else in the U.S., and that energy shows up in Ashaki’s work. She’s not leaning on institutional funding (because, honestly, that barely exists anymore). She’s leaning on the community, on self-determination, and on the freedom to create without censorship or corporate polish.

That freedom is especially clear in her abstract pieces. Historically, abstraction has been a space of liberation, many black artist finding freedom through abstraction. It offered an escape from the ideological baggage of Social Realism and the expectation to create art that fits clean political narratives. As more European Surrealists and abstract artists came to the U.S. during and after the wars, American artists started tapping into subconscious, emotional, and irrational modes of creation. For many Black artists, abstraction became a language to express the inexpressible, a way to be free from expectations, both cultural and political.

Ashaki’s abstractions carry that legacy. They're not just beautiful, they’re intentional! Every brushstroke feels like a reclamation of her own story, undisturbed by outside noise.

Her art doesn’t beg for approval. It exists in its fullness, angry and hopeful, soft and defiant. That’s the voice of an artist who knows exactly what she’s doing.