E Dyer

A hushed hello under moonlight

A conversation without words

E Dyer, 8 × 10, brush and ink on panel, 2025.

For moth belly gallery "The city at night" in 2025.

This painting was made at home, late at night. I didn't take much video of it.

There are times at night when it feels like the city is holding its breath.

When I work late, I find myself listening differently. Every mark of the brush feels like it carries more weight.

I think about how houses hold memory, how streets absorb stories, how the night sky repeats itself over and over but is never quite the same. The world remembers.

“Hello, nice to see you again”

“The world unwraps itself, again and again, as soon as you are ready to see it anew”, acrylic on wood panel, 9 x 12 “, 2024.

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A gift for my bestie Alexandria Redmon. We met in high school Art 1 class by chance, something happened to my schedule and I had to switch to a different period after the first week, to the block she was in. I was a sophomore and she was a junior. We quickly became inseparable friends. She got me into photography, and I took Art 2 just so we could hang out more. Without her, I’m not sure if I would have ever gotten into art as much as I am today. After she graduated, my art teacher Ms. Foster encouraged me to continue to an AP art class. Sometime my Junior year of high school, my mom and I went to visit my uncle Karl who was working in Washington D.C. (at NASA), and so we got to go see a LOT of art. I was obsessed with MC Escher and REALLY wanted to see his work at the National Gallery of Art, so we went! I walked up to the desk and asked where his work was hanging, and they told me it wasn’t up currently. My lil face was devastated; they could clearly tell how much I wanted to see Escher’s work, and so they did something that still blows me away to this day—they let me into their library, pulled up two carts full of his lithos, and let me look through them with white gloves. I remember my hands and arms shaking with excitement as I got to go through these delicate prints, and it was at that moment I knew I wanted to be an artist. What did I document this with? A 35 mm Minolta Alex had let me take to DC. I still have the blurry photos.

This piece would also not be possible without her; she unknowingly chose the colors, which were taken from a website she made: https://save.page/ which is a cool bookmarking website (like if you remember del.icio.us). I grabbed the hex codes from her site, put them into Golden paints online color mixer, and tubed up my colors! They are: Alexandria Purple, Redmon Orange, Perfect Blue, Powerful Pink, Gorgeous Green, and Hover State Slate.

Thank your for believing in me

“A gateway between dream and memory”, 2023. acrylic on canvas, 11"x14"x1.5". $200 available Soft Times Gallery in San Francisco. Small Works 2—this Thursday. Get there early, I think this one is gonna go fast!

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The enduring spirit of a vibrant community

A love letter, an ode to understanding

To resilience that binds us, unyielding

Build a bridge from ethereal dreams

To the tangible impressions of our past

Secrets unveiled under darkness' gleams

The intangible nature of memories

A fugitive becomes queen or scientist

Or worse, a poet, weaving tales with ease

Untold stories linger in every corner

Rare flowers blooming midst concrete's grasp

In a jungle where hopes are born

The noise of a metropolis

An unstoppable force

The greatest mystery

is right under our feet

You are loved

Midnight Secrets, acrylic on canvas, 72x60 inches, 2023.

Drawing inspiration from the rich mythology of San Francisco, I have incorporated elements of landscape, architecture, and still life, using Pompeii wall paintings as a foundation. The Tenderloin, with its diverse blend of architectural styles—Renaissance, Baroque, Victorian, Edwardian, and Art Deco—creates a visually captivating backdrop that reflects the neighborhood's fusion of past and present. It is also a place of historical significance, being home to the world's first transgender district and the site of the 1966 Compton's Riot, a seminal moment in the LGBTQ+ movement.

To amplify the narrative of my work and embrace my queerness and connection to San Francisco, I have departed from the traditional natural pigments used by the Romans. Instead, I incorporate pigments that reflect my identity and experiences. The vibrant "pinkest pink" pigment, gifted to me by a close friend, represents my boldness and authenticity. Pastel shades, hold a special place in my artistic repertoire, evoking a sense of joy and nostalgia. I employ copious amounts of iridescent micro diamonds, which remain hidden until one approaches the artwork closely, unveiling an explosion of color and enchantment.

Transcendence (walking down stairs) 12x12”, acrylic and stickers on canvas, 2023

“little things that get taken for granted”

“fleeting glimpses of joy”

brush and ink on wood panel, 2023.

New thing coming soon!

glue bound linocut, hand printed pages

limited edition conceptual art zine

It’s time. I’ve been hesitant to do so because it will create a lot of dead links, but I’m changing my tumblr name in 2023 to no longer be my dead name.

Thank you for all of the support everyone has shown me: my followers, @hyperallergic @art and @staff . (I’ll never forget when y’all asked me to be apart of that talk at the Phoenix Hotel in SF!) It has meant a lot to me, and continues to mean a lot to me.

I can not wait to show yall all the things I have planned for 2023, it’s going to be a fantastic year!

Thank you!

“if it feels oppressive — kick against it”, 11x14”, ink on panel, 2022. Title is a reference to the musician Arca and the painting’s subject was inspired by Amanda St. Jaymes in the documentary Screaming Queens by Susan Stryker, about the riot at Compton’s Cafeteria.

If you would like to know more about my piece "The Night of Unsung Heroes", read this! Compton's Cafeteria was a chain of cafeterias owned by Gene Compton in San Francisco from the 1940s to the 1970s, and this one was on the corner of Taylor and Turk. The painting is an ode to The Compton's Cafeteria riot, which occurred in August 1966. The riot was a response to the violent and constant police harassment of drag queens and trans people, particularly trans women. The incident was one of the first LGBT-related riots in United States history, and marked the beginning of trans activism in San Francisco. My undying gratitude goes out to the people who stood up for their rights then, so we could have more now.

The best resource I've found about this is the documentary by Susan Stryker "Screaming Queens". From Kanopy's description, the documentary "tells the little-known story of the first known act of collective, violent resistance to the social oppression of queer people in the United States - a 1966 riot in San Francisco's impoverished Tenderloin neighborhood, three years before the famous gay riot at New York's Stonewall Inn.

Screaming Queens introduces viewers to street queens, cops and activist civil rights ministers who recall the riot and paint a vivid portrait of the wild transgender scene in 1960s San Francisco. Integrating the riot's story into the broader fabric of American life, the documentary connects the event to urban renewal, anti-war activism, civil rights and sexual liberation. With enticing archival footage and period music, this unknown story is dramatically brought back to life.

Screaming Queens is a production of Victor Silverman and Susan Stryker produced in association with ITVS and KQED, with funding provided by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting."

Hi! Thank you! This is usually what I share as my bio:

What does it mean to be a part of a neighborhood? How often is it we get to take a moment to stop and look around? Hi! It's nice to meet you. My name is E. I'm an artist living and working in the Tenderloin, San Francisco. I make paintings and zines about walking around the city. Walking gives us a chance to slow down and for our thoughts to catch up with us. Walking is a way for us to connect to the neighborhoods we live in. Walking makes it easier to meet people; to stop and look around. In life, scenes exist as a memory—a meditation of the past and what is to come. Painting requires me to slow down, like walking through my neighborhood.