Today we’d like to introduce you to Drury Bynum.
Hi Drury, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
For most of my career, I told stories with a camera.
My wife and I founded a video production company more than fifteen years ago, and over that time I directed well over a hundred films for brands, businesses, and organizations. I loved the process of finding the human story inside a project and figuring out how to make people feel something. Storytelling became my language.
Then the world changed. Like a lot of creative businesses, ours was reshaped by COVID and by the rapid evolution of media. Rather than trying to force things back to the way they were, I started paying closer attention to what was pulling at me creatively.
That pull led me back to painting.
What began as weekends in the studio slowly became something much bigger. I found myself exploring familiar figurative narratives while combining them with mixed media and, more recently, AI-generated imagery to create work that explores identity, memory, mythology, and transformation. I don’t see AI as replacing creativity. I see it as an artistic tool that helps me discover imagery, atmospheres, and textures I never would have imagined on my own.
Around the same time, my own struggles with creative resistance inspired me to write a book called Artists, Attack! How to Cheat, Steal, and Strong Arm Your Way to Creative Freedom. It is a field manual for artists who are done waiting for their turn—who have been told to remain polite, patient, and professional while the world scrolls past their potential.
Looking back, I realize the thread has always been the same. Whether I was directing documentaries, making experimental collages, teaching artists, or writing a book, I’ve always been interested in transformation. How do ideas become images? How do ordinary people become the heroes of their own stories? How do we stay creative in a world that’s changing faster than ever?
Today I’m embracing that question more fully than ever. I’m creating the strongest artwork of my career, exploring the possibilities of emerging technology without losing sight of craftsmanship and the human touch, and enjoying the freedom that comes from realizing that reinvention isn’t a detour—it’s often exactly where the real work begins.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Definitely not. I don’t know many creative careers that are.
For more than fifteen years, my identity was wrapped up in running a successful video production company. We built a strong reputation, worked with incredible clients, and told stories I was genuinely proud of. But the industry changed dramatically. COVID accelerated that change, and advances in technology continued to reshape how video was created and consumed. At some point I had to ask myself a difficult question: Was I trying to preserve a career, or was I trying to preserve my creativity?
That wasn’t an easy distinction to make, but I came to realize that I was a stronger artist than I was a filmmaker.
Stepping into a new chapter has been uncomfortable. There have been moments where I’ve questioned whether I was making the right decisions. When you move away from something you’ve spent years building, there’s no guarantee the next thing will work. I had to learn to stomach uncertainty.
Painting has reminded me what it feels like to create without constantly thinking about clients, deadlines, or expectations. It’s brought back a sense of curiosity and joy that had been missing. My work has become bolder, more experimental, and more personal as my audience and their enthusiasm for my work has grown. My first solo exhibit in 3 years, Last Call, is currently running at Electric Avenue Gallery in Baltimore until August 27th.
I’m still building this next chapter, but I know that reinvention is part of being an artist. Every creative life requires letting go of an old identity before the next one emerges.
Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
I’m obsessed with transformation, regardless of the medium.
Today that transformation happens primarily through painting, mixed media, collage, and writing, but I still think like a filmmaker. Every piece I create invites the viewer into a visual narrative. I’m especially drawn to themes of identity, mythology, memory, and transformation. My work often blends figurative imagery with unexpected combinations of materials, symbols, and visual references that reward close looking and invite multiple interpretations.
One of the things that sets my work apart is my willingness to embrace both traditional and emerging tools. I love the tactile nature of paint, collage, wax, and found materials, but I’m equally fascinated by AI as a creative partner. I don’t use it to replace the artistic process—I use it to expand it. It helps me discover images, atmospheres, and ideas that I can reinterpret through physical materials and my own artistic voice.
What I’m most proud of is something that recently came full circle. In 1996, while finishing my MFA, I was commissioned to create three large paintings for the upstairs bar at The Brewer’s Art in Baltimore. Those paintings remained there for nearly thirty years, quietly becoming part of the life of the restaurant and the memories people made there. When The Brewer’s Art closed earlier this year, I was determined to bring them home. After some persistent follow up, I was able to recover all three works. Seeing them reunited with my newest body of paintings in my recent exhibition, Last Call, was an emotional experience. It wasn’t just a reunion with old work—it was a conversation across three decades. You could see the continuity of ideas, the evolution of my voice, and the strange privilege of watching artwork transform itself from what it was originally created for.
Can you talk to us a bit about happiness and what makes you happy?
Discovery makes me happy.
Whether I’m painting, writing, editing, or traveling, I’m happiest when I stumble onto something I didn’t expect. I love when an image, an idea, or conversation opens a door I didn’t see.
That’s probably why I became an artist in the first place. The studio is one of the few places where I can lose track of time. I start with an idea, but the real work begins when the idea takes the lead and shows me something new.
So much of it is about getting out of my own way and allowing for things to be what they want to be.
Pricing:
- Large Original Paintings start at $2250
- Small Original Paintings start at $1200
- Prints start at $250
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.drurybynum.com
- Instagram: https://instagram.com/drurybynum
- Facebook: https://facebook.com/drurybynum
