A Retrospective on the ‘Art Hoe’ Movement

Image Credit: Sofia Ornelas via Unsplash

Almost a decade after the Art Hoe Collective was founded, Arts and Creativity Editor Emily Sheehy reflects on its impact on popular culture, the art scene and artists of colour.

What comes to mind when I say ‘art hoe’? Van Gogh socks, Fjallraven Kanken backpacks, mom jeans, Copic markers, sunflowers and Tyler the Creator’s Flower Boy are probably some of the things that pop into your mind. The aesthetic exploded on Instagram and Tumblr in the late 2010s, and although it may not be as popular today, its impact on culture has been lasting. But the origins of the term, or movement, have been obscured by the focus on aesthetics. It initially began as a movement for and by queer creatives of colour to express themselves through art and resist the hegemonic art scene that has traditionally been dominated by white, straight men. Its history has since been erased and whitewashed by collage boards in mustard yellow and blue denim.

The ‘Art Hoe Collective’ was co-founded in 2015 on Tumblr by photographer and artist Mars, along with their friends Sage Adams and Jam. It aimed to create a submission-based platform for artists of colour to portray themselves on their own terms, without being exploited or dismissed by the traditional art scene. They incorporated AAVE (African-American Vernacular English) through the word ‘hoe’, reclaiming it to erase its negative connotations and uplift the participants of the movement, Mars has stated. They aimed to revolutionise the art world and tackle race, sexuality, representation, gender and politics in their work. A common trend within the collective was taking a selfie and doodling on it, or superimposing it onto a well known artwork, like Van Gogh’s ‘Sunflowers’. By altering the selfie, it was transformed into a creative expression and controlling how one is perceived, a “possible creative outlet to shatter gender, class and race glass ceilings”. They were forcing themselves directly into the canon of art.

By altering the selfie, it was transformed into a creative expression and controlling how one is perceived, a “possible creative outlet to shatter gender, class and race glass ceilings”. They were forcing themselves directly into the canon of art.

Their now-deleted Instagram and Tumblr pages helped promote queer artists of colour and foster a community where radical and true creative could flourish. Their goal was increased representation of marginalised individuals, a revolution in the art world. They also offered micro-grants of $1,000 to Black trans women during the Covid pandemic and hosted a handful of in-person events. Unfortunately, their aims were thwarted when the term ‘art hoe’ reached mainstream audiences and was co-opted by “quirky” White teenage girls with an interest in art history. It was an exclusive club that required expensive backpacks, markers and boots to get in.

Unfortunately, their aims were thwarted when the term ‘art hoe’ reached mainstream audiences and was co-opted by quirky white teenage girls with an interest in art history. It was an exclusive club that required expensive backpacks, markers and boots to get in.

Arguably, the Art Hoe Collective was ambitious in its goals, but fell short of achieving long-term success for artists of colour. While the founders were optimistic that giving queer artists of colour a platform would result in increased representation for marginalised creatives, it seemed to be mainly limited to an online space and failed to disrupt the hegemony of the mainstream art world. They no longer have an online presence and many of the co-founders have pulled away from the public eye. Despite its shortcomings, it was an important movement for queer Black artists where they could create a community and foster a sense of empowerment. Additionally, co-founder Sage Adams has found success photographing for SZA and continues their activism on their online platform.

Searching the term ‘arthoe’ on a platform such as Pinterest will yield pictures of white girls in colour blocked outfits, oversized crewnecks, mustard yellow cardigans, mom jeans and Doc Martens with funky socks. Very few of the images feature art supplies or artwork itself, nevermind the queer Black artists who founded the Art Hoe Collective. Having an interest in art history or being an artist wasn’t even a necessity to calling yourself an ‘art hoe,’ all you needed to do was look the part. The aesthetic movement could not be further disconnected from its roots.

Having an interest in art history or being an artist wasn’t even a necessity to calling yourself an ‘art hoe,’ all you needed to do was look the part. The aesthetic movement could not be further disconnected from its roots.

I would argue that the art hoe aesthetic was the first of its kind and birthed our obsession with ‘aesthetics’ and an emphasis on style without substance. A form of pseudo-subculture, Internet aesthetics are a visual style that is sometimes accompanied by a fashion style or music genre, and gains attraction on an online space. Where it differs from a subculture, I contend, is that aesthetics lack a defined set of norms and values that are usually developed in subcultures and focus solely on the visuals. This was certainly the case with the Art Hoe movement; it was detached from its original values and political goals and reduced to a set of visuals.

The prominence of the art hoe aesthetic online led to a boom of other aesthetics - Dark Academia, Cottagecore, VSCO girl, e-kid, Soft Grunge, clean girl and Coquette, to name a few. Aesthetics seemed to reach their peak in 2020 due to the COVID-19 pandemic and the rise of TikTok - young people were stuck inside and had nothing better to do than go online and were encouraged to rediscover themselves and take this time of inactivity to ‘glow up’. As these aesthetics focus on the visuals, consumerism is a core part in participating in your aesthetic of choice. Before the rise of TikTok, the art hoe hashtag on Instagram was flooded with collages of ‘Things you need to be an art hoe,’ which prompted the aspiring art hoe to go out and buy expensive shoes and backpacks and excluded young people from lower income backgrounds. Although fast fashion retailers like Shein have made it easier for people to find certain styles to fit their aesthetics at affordable prices, the impact of fast fashion and the rise of micro-trends on the environment has been very detrimental, especially as people jump from one aesthetic to the next in a matter of months or even weeks.

While the term ‘art hoe’ was reappropriated and whitewashed, it is important to remember its origins and the revolutionary ideals of the founders of the Art Hoe Collective. We should still strive to promote queer artists of colour and foster communities for marginalised creatives, and not let its legacy be marred by consumerism and aesthetics.