Dr. Keys, you began your professional journey as a performing artist — with voice as your primary instrument, supported by acting and dance. How did that foundation in storytelling and performance shape who you are today?
Absolutely. My artistic journey began with voice. Singing was the first way I learned to take up space, move a room, and tell the truth. Acting came next, and dance followed as a skill I developed to become a more versatile performer. But voice has always been my center — the tool I still rely on most today.
Music, theater, and dance gave me more than creative outlets; they gave me structure. In the arts, you quickly learn that your individual expression matters, but so does your ability to contribute to something greater than yourself. If you’re off pitch, too loud, or miss your mark, you impact the whole ensemble. That awareness — knowing your role and showing up fully — has stayed with me.
It taught me discipline, preparation, and the value of harmony. Those lessons now shape how I lead and collaborate — whether I’m speaking with funders, mentoring young leaders, or working alongside university presidents. I still believe in rehearsal. I still listen for harmony. And I still use my voice, not just to be heard, but to help move something forward — something bigger than myself.

Dr. Lockhart, your path began in graphic design before evolving into a celebrated career in fine art. Can you take us back to the moment when you realized that art would not only be your passion but your life’s calling?
That turning point came in the year 2000. At the time, I was freelancing as a graphic designer, with hopes of working at a media firm among other creatives, producing ads and design work. But I found myself yearning for something deeper—something I could truly hold onto and fall in love with. I had always admired art, but in that season, it became more than admiration. It grew into a true passion. I began experimenting with different textiles, mediums, and designs, and with each new exploration, I felt an undeniable joy. That’s when I made the decision to fully commit to becoming a professional artist. It wasn’t just about creating anymore—it was about answering a calling.

As a self-taught artist, you’ve carved out a space that demonstrates both discipline and innovation. What were some of the most defining challenges of developing your craft outside of traditional training, and how did those experiences shape your creative identity?
Being self-taught pushed me to define my own standards of excellence. I studied art in its many forms, observing how diverse artists created in ways that reflected their voices, and it gave me permission to do the same for myself. Since I didn’t follow a traditional path, I had to design my own. What I carried with me from high school art classes—along with the encouragement of my teachers—became the foundation for my growth. Over time, I mastered acrylics, which I love for their quick drying time, though I also work in oil, watercolor, pen and ink, and collage. My creative process is deeply spiritual. I believe God entrusted me with this gift, and it continues to evolve with each piece I create. I see art as a lifelong journey of learning, discovery, and faith.

Your work often blends diverse styles, mediums, and techniques. How do you approach the canvas when beginning a new piece, and what inspires the choices you make in color, texture, and form?
Each piece begins differently. Sometimes I start with a sketch, other times I approach the canvas with only a vision in mind. Early in the process, I consider color formations, textures, and design elements—sometimes even sourcing fabrics, papers, or other materials that can bring the image to life. As I work, I step back often, allowing the piece to speak to me and reveal what it needs. The process becomes both practical and spiritual—I pray over every painting, asking God to guide my hands and shape the story that emerges. For me, the act of creating is about more than technique; it’s about channeling inspiration into something dynamic and meaningful.

You have described your love of color as central to your imagery. How do you see color functioning not just as aesthetic, but as narrative—telling stories, evoking memory, or conveying emotion?
Color is emotional language. It inspires, comforts, and stirs desire. In my work, I consider how colors mesh, how they balance, and how they push against one another to carry the story of the painting. Sometimes it’s the presence of color, sometimes it’s the deliberate absence. Either way, color shapes the atmosphere of the piece and gives voice to the message I’m trying to convey. It is never just decoration—it is narrative.
This year you were commissioned to create artwork for a prestigious art event in Chicago. What did that opportunity mean to you personally and professionally, and how did you approach curating a piece that speaks to such a significant platform?
That commission was incredibly meaningful. I began with inspiration from a 1940s image created for the World’s Fair, and from there, I wove in the legacy of Jean Baptiste Pointe Du Sable, the Black founder of Chicago. I studied the city’s symbols, its history, and even the meaning of the stars on its flag. My vision became one of bridging eras—capturing the style of Black dandyism of the 1940s while weaving in Afrofuturism to reflect the present and the future. Along the way, I thought about my own family ties to Chicago. My great aunt, Mary Dee, was a trailblazing news anchor there, and her story deepened my connection to the city. In the end, the piece became both a historical homage and a personal tribute, a love letter to Chicago through my eyes.

Your gallery, the Lockhart Art Gallery, is more than just a space—it’s an extension of your creative spirit. What is your vision for the gallery, and how do you see it serving as a bridge between artists, collectors, and community?
Right now, Lockhart Gallery exists as an online space, but my vision is much larger. I hope to one day open multiple locations where I can not only showcase my own work but also uplift other extraordinary artists across the country. I want the gallery to be a platform for emerging talent, a place where imagination and creativity are celebrated, and where collectors from around the world can connect with art that both inspires and challenges.

Art has always been a mirror to society. How do you believe your work contributes to conversations about culture, identity, and representation, particularly within the African American experience?
My work has increasingly focused on African and African American narratives, born out of research and a desire to highlight what has too often been left out of history. Our ancestors’ contributions to this country—their inventions, their creativity, their sacrifices—are immense, yet frequently overlooked. Through my art, I want to honor their resilience, bring their accomplishments to light, and also speak honestly about the tragedies we’ve endured. Art allows me to celebrate our strength while preserving our stories for future generations.

Looking back at your career, what moments stand out as turning points that propelled you into new levels of visibility and recognition?
There hasn’t been just one defining moment, but a series of blessings that have shaped my journey. One that stands out was being commissioned to create a piece for Tyler Perry’s 50th birthday. The gift, presented by actor Peter Parros, gave me an opportunity to honor Mr. Perry’s extraordinary rise from hardship to becoming a billion-dollar force in entertainment. Delivering that painting to his studio in Atlanta was a full-circle moment for me—it affirmed that when you commit fully to your vision and put in the work, incredible doors can open.

For emerging artists who may be navigating doubt, financial strain, or creative uncertainty, what wisdom do you wish someone had shared with you earlier in your journey?
Every artist’s journey is unique, filled with triumphs and challenges. If I could offer advice to my younger self, it would be this: set a budget, prepare to travel, and don’t shy away from sharing your story. Be ready to speak about your work, your process, and your vision—because storytelling is as important as the art itself. People need to hear your voice as much as they need to see your work. And above all, stay committed, even when the path feels uncertain. You never know where your art will take you.

Finally, what is next for you as both an artist and curator? Are there projects or themes you are especially eager to explore in the near future?
Looking ahead, I want to secure grants that will allow me to travel, research, and explore art on a global scale. I feel called to dig deeper into who we are as a people, what drives us, and how art can propel us forward without stagnation. I also want to engage students at every level—elementary, high school, and college—while continuing to pursue commissions and large-scale projects with corporations and collectors. Ultimately, I believe this gift is not mine to keep; it was given to me to share with the world, and I intend to do just that.

What inspired you to write The Gift & The Legacy: African American Philanthropy as Power, Purpose and Promise, and why was this the right moment to release it?
It is necessary to shift the spotlight away from philanthropy being narrowly defined as large financial contributions or names etched on buildings. This journal seeks to illuminate the fullness of giving—time, talent, ties, testimony, treasure, and trust—so that all contributions are acknowledged as vital to the progress of our country and culture. Recognizing this truth becomes a source of motivation, inspiring people to give with greater intentionality. In today’s climate of racial tension, it is critical that African Americans remember the sacrifices and strategies of those who came before us. That is precisely why we have our own organizations and Historically Black Colleges and Universities. This work is both a reminder and a charge not to diminish our legacy, but to build upon it.

What was your process for shaping this journal—how did you balance research, reflection, and your own lived experience in the writing?
The journal grew out of years of notes and reflections from my decades of service on nonprofit boards. My innate curiosity pushed me to ask why African Americans often appeared not to invest in ourselves at the level truly needed for sustained growth and success. Understanding our history was central to answering that question, for our story is one of resilience and innovation, continually building upon the shoulders of our forefathers. Writing allowed me to bring that history forward, interwoven with my lived experience. Publishing those words transforms them into a lasting resource, empowering all who read them to see themselves as participants in this legacy of giving.

Your journey into advocacy began with a powerful moment with your son. How has fatherhood continued to shape the way you lead and build platforms for representation?
Fatherhood has been the most transformative part of my life. That moment with my son opened my eyes to how much I had grown accustomed to the absence of representation for Black same-gender-loving men and Black LGBTQ+ families. Realizing that our story could be reduced to stereotypes or erased altogether broke my heart. I knew then that I had to act—not just for myself, but to give him real examples to point to and say, “That’s not true. My dads showed me differently.” It isn’t easy, and at times the weight feels heavy, but I believe deeply that one person, one story, can spark a movement.

Black Gay Table Talk® has become an important space for authentic conversations. What impact do you hope it will have on both the community and the broader cultural landscape?
I envision Black Gay Table Talk® as a catalyst for recognition and celebration. Within the community, I hope it affirms people by showing them they are seen, valued, and worthy of being celebrated. Beyond that, I want the platform to be recognized for its quality-driven approach—offering insight, visibility, and a sense of belonging in a cultural lane that we define for ourselves.