25 Trans Artists to Know

I was first introduced to Jamie’s work through Love, Jamie, a documentary covering a specific moment in her life. She is a trans woman and artist who has been incarcerated for nearly three decades in men’s prisons. Her work really reaches into the essence of being a trans woman

I fell in love with Martine’s work when I saw an installation that included a variety of magazines on shelves covering the walls of the gallery. The magazines bore two different cover portraits of Martine in different clothing and adornment, but they all carried the same title, Indigenous Woman. I also loved documentation of her performance at the Whitney Museum of American Art and at the Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis; a photograph of her walking a man on a leash around the Whitney now lives in my head rent free. 

Gia is a mesmerizing model/activist and performer. I’ll link her newest single, “The Agenda,” here. She’s also the founder of “Black Trans Love,” which hosts something called the Celebration of Black Transwomen Cookout. This event is unlike anything else I’ve ever seen.

Fashion is a super-radical and inspiring visual artist, model, and deejay. I’ve been in love with her work and expression since I was a baby trans (just starting to transition). She really helped me understand that the rawness of one’s emotions hold power. I think the best way to understand her work is through her Instagram, @tightcorsetloosemorals.

SK, an artist I’ve been following since I moved to NYC, draws the viewer into magical universes that she meticulously creates. I had a studio visit with her years ago. Her large-scale sculpture/installation Go and Hit a Lick of Benevolence at Somerset House looked amazing. I said to myself, “SK’s getting to realize her vision in larger manifestations—and I’m here for it!” 

I had the pleasure of witnessing a performance of Ebun’s (with Rosa-Johan Uddoh) on a boat in Norway. The performance incorporated the context of the ship in a super-powerful way. Since seeing this gateway performance, I’ve been following Ebun’s work closely. Her use of imagery contrasting with glimmering refractions of light bouncing off metallic surfaces is quite moving. It reminds me of the light bouncing off the waves the day I saw her perform in Norway. A recent bio online says, “Ebun Sodipo makes work for black trans people of the future.” I find this intention in her work to be so rare in the art sphere. 

Valeria’s work is so uniquely her own it’s not even funny. She was another person I was getting to know in my baby trans stage. She’s an innovator. I think there’s a multitude of “celebrities” who are inspired by her undeniable individuality in everything she does. I recommend using her Instagram to explore her work: @adjust_rain.

We’ve never had the pleasure of meeting in person, but I love Saturn Risin9’s music. I sometimes listen to work by trans musicians and wish I had been able to listen to it growing up. I would have felt less alone and more seen. Keep an eye on Saturn! 

Keioui is a radical-ass artist! Her installations, videos, sculptures, and performances at Performance Space New York transcended everything I thought I knew about art. She’s really breaking down so many boundaries in her work, and the emotion she conjures with her alchemy is undeniable. Keioui is a FORCE. I urge you to research her work if you haven’t experienced it already.

I’ve been friends with SoiL since we showed together in the 2017 Whitney Biennial. We’ve discussed the vastness of “gender” at length. I’ve always admired their unique way of expressing themself in all that they do. I have so many stories of incredible experiences with their work, but much of it feels outside of language, in my opinion. Maybe it’s best for their work to do the talking, so do a deep dive!

Davia is an artist in every sense of the word. She’s done music, performance, playwriting—the list goes on. I remember one performance in Los Angeles where she arrived covered in sheer fabric and her voice rang through the space with a hypnotic quality. It really took me to another planet. I’ve also seen videos by her that had the same ability to transport me to a different realm. Look out for Davia: She’s visiting us from another dimension. 

A true performance goddess! From zerina’s performance at The Shed to her appearance at The Kitchen to her work at MoMA, she continues to deliver. Her ability to perform extends to modeling, both for magazines and for the runway.

My first experience of Kiyan’s work was at the most recent Whitney Biennial. I had followed their art for quite some time and was excited to be able to see it in person. Their voice rang loudly in that exhibition in a way that I found very moving; it really hit an emotional spot in my heart and mind. The sculpture of Marsha P. Johnson was particularly affecting. It had me imagining being near her while she was on this planet and really conjured her spirit. The world needs artists like Kiyan.

I first came in contact with Gogo’s work through her fashion design, which has always felt so radical. (I’m realizing that this is a common thread among all the artists I’m mentioning.) Her radicality has extended to the runway; at one show, I was overjoyed to see so many trans femmes modeling. I’ve recently started to follow her painting practice via Instagram. I find this work to be just as detailed and intricate as her garments. 

Tourmaline is an is an artist, filmmaker, writer, and activist whose work I’ve followed for a very, very long time. I recommend a full exploration of everything she’s blessed and touched, but I wanted to specifically mention her on this list as a way to promote her newest book, Marsha: The Joy and Defiance of Marsha P. Johnson—a priceless historical artifact.

Ren is my roommate. I call her my biological sister, even though we come from different wombs. Her art is elegant, haunting, thoughtful, and powerful, and it’s been beautiful to watch it evolve. Ren is amazingly prolific and incredibly detail oriented. I think she’s another artist whose work can defy language. I mean, I feel so many things . . . and when I try to articulate them, it reminds me how limiting language is, not only in regard to art but also in expressing the complexities of human existence. 

I first learned of Seba’s practice at the New Museum, when we both had work being exhibited there. Seba is a Mapuche artist, and I feel very moved by the way her art address the effects of colonialism on indigenous life. Her work is not limited to this conversation, however; it expands into an exploration and demonstration of how this planet is treated. My father, who was also an indigenous artist, instilled in me some of the ideas I see in Seba’s work. I feel closer to his spirit when viewing it.

On top of being a genius deejay, artist, and writer, Juliana informed my need to transition and I’ll forever be grateful to her for that. I don’t know if she would remember this specific evening, but I spent a night with her in Paris before I started to transition. There are certain meetings I had with trans women that informed my coming-out journey, and the night spent with Juliana was one of those moments. We talked about traumatic memories of growing up in Texas. Years later I read her book of poetry, Mucus in My Pineal Gland. I didn’t know I could be swept away by her expression and essence more than I already had been, but I was.

Nyala is a filmmaker whose work I first encountered on Instagram. I was entranced by the style of her films and binge-watched everything I could access of hers. The films really invite you into a beautifully crafted world filled with content that feels incredibly relatable. Her film How to Date While Trans is the kind of thing the trans community (and the world) needs. These stories are sacred, and I’m grateful Nyala is creating them. 

I first met Marquise as an activist protesting in 2020. Later a friend recommended I watch him in The Aggressives, a documentary film centering the experiences of masculine-presenting queer people and trans masculine folx. It really is a revolutionary documentary. Marquise is a legend in ballroom culture and in life, and his presence in this world is really a blessing. The way he uplifts and represents the community is beautiful. It’s been a joy to witness his journey from activism to starring in shows and films.

Qween, a dear sister of mine, is a civil rights activist, award-winning costume designer, and truly a modern-day renaissance woman. Qween has dedicated her life to community. She hosts a weekly community-care event mixed with a lab where ballroom can blossom every Wednesday at Judson Church in NYC. She also runs an organization called Black Trans Liberation, day in and day out. I highly recommend following her on Instagram @qween_jean.

Lexii Foxx is my best friend. I won’t hide that fact. She’s a dancer/performer, sculptor, painter, installation artist, activist, and founder of a support and awareness campaign centering Black Trans Womxn called the Stop Killing Us Global Campaign. This human being is one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met. I curated an installation of hers at Performance Space New York that haunts me to this very day. We’re currently working on a collaboration for the Göteborg International Biennial for Contemporary Art in Sweden, opening in September.

Lexi, a talented photographer I worked with on a project for Numéro magazine, creates portraiture that encapsulates a person’s essence. Lexi is also deeply committed to centering community through her work. I feel a special connection to my sister, because we were recovering from gender-affirming surgery at the same time. It felt less lonely to be able to message a sister who was going through the same experience.

I very briefly met Aariana through a mutual friend as we were protesting in 2020. Her spirit radiated joy, and I’ve been following her journey ever since. As a model she’s graced runways from Collina Strada to Moschino, but she’s also a mesmerizing visual artist. I’ve never seen work like her digital drawings/collages. One of my favorite pieces is titled Wonderland series vol. 1, from 2024, which depicts Aariana with pink wings and a teal, white, and magenta halo. It reminds me of the aura she radiated when I first met her outside Stonewall.

I was recently reading about an AI-generated video installation by Rindon titled “Best Synthetic Answer #1: Crossing . . . . I’m terribly sad I didn’t get to see it in person. The video depicted Rindon swimming from San Francisco (his birthplace) to Shanghai (the location of the exhibition). It conjured up another “performance” that shaped me as an artist, Bas Jan Ader’s attempt to sail across the Atlantic Ocean, which resulted in his disappearance. In fact, I see many overlapping artists sharing connections to Rindon’s work, artists I’ve admired deeply over the years. In Rindon’s work, I never know what to expect visually. There is a poetic mystery to it that leaves me yearning for the next chapter.