Ask A D.C. Native: I’m an artist. Should I leave D.C. to make it big?

“To make it big, you have to leave D.C.” How many of us have heard that? I never subscribed to it. Honestly, I detest that statement. My philosophy has always been to become so great at what you do that it becomes hard to ignore you — no matter where you are. Besides, who gets to define what “making it big” even means? 

My success has come from planting my roots here, pouring into the city that poured into me, and creating work so powerful that it travels further than I ever could. 

Before I dive deep into this, let me introduce myself: I’m Dee Dwyer, an artist, curator, educator, cultural anthropologist, community connector, and — most importantly — a mom of two phenomenal children. I’m from Southeast D.C., and I’ve built the foundation of my career in my hometown. 

Staying connected to D.C. and knowing this city has become one of my greatest advantages. I remember growing up being surrounded by community. I know what our communities felt like before local businesses were pushed out and neighbors disappeared. I take pride in documenting buildings before they’re torn down, children playing in the neighborhood, our elders sitting on porches sharing folklore, and ordinary moments that nobody thinks are important until 20 years later when everybody is asking, “Damn, does anybody have a picture of that?” 

I understand the small things that someone parachuting into a community with a camera may never notice. I’ve learned that I don’t have to go somewhere else trying to find an interesting story when there are so many things happening right outside my door. 

But I get why some people move away to pursue their dreams — every situation is different. I just don’t believe leaving is the only way to grow your wings. You can be deeply rooted in your city and still fly beyond it. 

And I’m not going to make staying in D.C. sound easy. It’s expensive as hell. There is gatekeeping and egos among different groups. We need more affordable artist studios and housing. Funding can be competitive, and sometimes it can feel like the same people are getting all of the opportunities. There should be bigger checks for artists. And trying to build with people can feel transactional. However, those human flaws and challenges could exist in any city. 

At the beginning of my photography career, I felt like I needed a diverse portfolio to be taken seriously by photo editors. Now that I have a better understanding of my mission, I no longer worry about those things. I allow my spirit to lead the path, and I trust the process.

I’ve also learned not to wait for people to build the spaces I want to see. That’s part of why I created The Chocolate City Experience, which pays homage to “the good ol’ days” by featuring photography exhibitions, art projections, double dutch, rollerskating, games like spades and dominoes, cultural workshops, and more. 

It also creates opportunities for artists, small businesses, and residents to work together and thrive. By collaborating with grassroots organizations like Harriet’s Wildest Dreams and H Street Main Street, we preserve the culture and protect, empower, and invest in the communities that have sustained it. It’s more than a celebration of our history; it’s an active part of shaping our community’s future while offering a safe space where our culture can live beyond hanging photographs on a wall. 

I’m also not afraid to bet on the house — which is me. When I want to bring something to life, my first instinct is to invest my own money, as I often do, until others see the vision and come on board to collaborate. I’m learning to break that habit as it’s “free money” out here, but I was influenced by growing up around hustlers who didn’t hesitate to put their money behind what they wanted. Plus, I don’t like waiting on anyone or being told “no.” It's the big Aries in me, I suppose. 

Organizations and institutions throughout D.C. have become part of my journey in different  ways. The Phillips Collection gave my exhibition “Wild Seeds of the Soufside” a home and  allowed me to tell a story about Southeast D.C. from my own perspective. The National Gallery of Art created “Photograph Like a Great: Dorothea Lange,” a film connecting my photography and the communities I document to the legacy of Dorothea Lange. The Nicholson Project in Ward 7 has given me space to slow down, experiment, and dig deeper into my fine-art practice. In collaboration with University of Washington, I did a TEDx talk centering humanity within the media industry. And while at DCist and WAMU, I created something refreshing in local journalism through Voices of Wards 7 & 8, an ongoing series I pioneered in 2020. It gave people in my area the mic to tell their stories. 

These institutions want to collaborate with serious artists. The partnerships are a result of my dedication to producing quality work, being active on social media, creating a strong brand, and more importantly, having self respect. 

I believe in the philosophy that if you build it, they will come. So in most cases, these institutions approached me or a community member pressured me to apply. My first question is always, “How’d you find me?” And they’ve all responded with, “We’ve been watching you for a while.” 

D.C. needs artists who remain connected to the city, so we can preserve things that money, development, and time can’t recreate. Here are some tips to keep you here.

Don’t think small just because you’re staying in D.C. Let the city be your foundation, not your limitation. I encourage you to travel. Take the opportunities in New York, Ghana, and the Caribbean. Get on the plane and build relationships outside of the city. I’ve learned just as much by leaving D.C. temporarily as I have by staying here. The difference is that I bring those experiences back home. 

Move around and build community. You must support other artists. Visit exhibitions, not just the ones in large institutions. Go to the parties, volunteer. Support underground shows and up-and-coming artists. Build genuine relationships with people who are in these rooms. And if you can’t physically show up, share their marketing materials with your network whenever you have capacity. 

Ensure that your work is outstanding. Seek honest feedback from professionals and your audience. Study the works of others but do not try replicating. We have enough Basquiat, van Gogh, and Picasso impersonators at this point. You also can’t sit in the house creating great work and expecting everybody to magically find you: Go outside or find creative ways to get your work there. 

Enjoy the process and surrender. Move with a purpose, but also embrace having a full life with or without public recognition. People know when you’re desperate and that does not breed opportunities. I became an educator before my work became recognized, then I left education to work full-time as a storyteller, and now I do both. I’ve enjoyed each era because I have faith that all will work out. 

Find what belongs to you. Then nurture it, make it, and share it with the world. Sometimes the greatest thing we can do is stay, build, and make the world find us. Everything you need is right in front of you: You are the blueprint.