Interview with Darius Churchman

Amanda Johnson: I want to know what drives you to make art. Tell us your story.

Darius Churchman: It’s been a long time coming. People have always told me to pick up a camera, but it always felt like too much. With smartphones, photography is more accessible, but friends and family would say, “Your cell phone photos are great, but they’re not enough.”

I originally started as an actor and model, attending photoshoots and seeing the whole setup—the theatrics, the crew, the energy. It made me realize I didn’t want to be in front of the camera. I wanted to be the one orchestrating everything behind it.

Many of my friends are professional photographers who’ve shot for Vogue, Macy’s, Washingtonian, and major artists. One of my mom’s close friends, a photographer for Jidenna and Janelle Monáe—and formerly for Prince—offered me a job as his photo assistant in high school. But I turned it down. Back then, I was a different person, caught up in other things. He was paying $8 an hour, and I thought working at the mall for $10 was a better deal.

Years later, he saw my work online and reached out again. This time, it was for a class he taught in D.C., but I was in New York. He offered me the class for free. Still, I hesitated—photography felt expensive and overwhelming. When quarantine hit, I returned to D.C. and finally joined his class via Zoom. That’s when I learned to use professional cameras and DSLRs.

In the past eight months, since I started considering myself a photographer, I’ve been featured in three magazines, including yours. It’s surreal. Things are taking off in ways I never expected. People say when something is meant for you, it happens naturally, but I’ve always resisted that idea. I felt like I had to work hard for everything. Quarantine changed my perspective; it taught me to embrace opportunities as they come. That self-portrait I submitted to you was featured in The Washingtonian’s Black Lives Matter issue, showcasing photographers during quarantine.

AJ: I’ve been in quarantine alone, reflecting on ideas I’d been sitting on for years, like Black Copper. When quarantine hit, it felt like we had two choices: sink into anxiety or channel our energy into something productive. I can relate to what you said about it forcing a mindset shift.

DC: Quarantine is unprecedented for us, but it’s happened before. Our being here means someone got through it before us.

AJ: Exactly. For many, it was a rare moment to pause and reflect—on life, on their place in the world. Despite the pain and loss, it was also a time of self-discovery and clarity, free from the usual distractions.

DC: Absolutely. I’ve been introspective for about 10 years now. Every January 1st, I reflect on the past year—what worked, what didn’t, where I want to go. It’s tough to face yourself and to take accountability for what went wrong. That’s why we distract ourselves, to avoid doing the hard work.

During quarantine, those distractions weren’t there. That’s where the self-portraits came from—a day of frustration and failed plans. I’d been inspired by quarantine photos from 1918 and wanted to recreate that eerie, unsettling vibe. I had props, and a grand idea, but nothing was working. By the end of the day, I was frustrated and ready to give up.

Still, I decided to try one last time at home. The camera I had only had a timer—no remote shutter—so I was running back and forth, pressing the button. I took six shots. The first was without the mask, and the last became the one featured everywhere.

That experience taught me something: persistence pays off. If I had given up, those photos wouldn’t exist, and the opportunities that followed wouldn’t have happened.

AJ: My art practice heavily involves self-portraiture. It started as a last resort but evolved into a ritualistic process. How has the experience been for you? Were those your first self-portraits?

DC: Aside from the occasional selfie—which I don’t take often—those were my first self-portraits. Since then, I’ve been doing them almost weekly. I want to start photographing my kids, but for now, it’s just been me.

AJ: Do you see a difference between being an artist and being a photographer?

DC: Definitely. It’s the artist’s eye or heart—seeing what’s not there and creating it.

Quarantimes, 2020