Tariqa Waters has the kind of inherent style that, as a former fashion editor, I can attest is a true art form. “I’m an emotional dresser,” says the multi-faceted artist whose work is both bright and dauntless. Waters, her musician husband, and two talented teenage kids all share each other’s clothes and a love for vintage. I wonder if, at 33, it’s too late for me to be adopted into this family. Confession: I’ve never been able to pull off thigh-high, high-heeled boots—but I respect the hell out of any woman who can. “I dress this way even when I’m going to Target,” says Waters, who climbs up the stairs of her gallery, Martyr Sauce, without the hint of a wobble in said boots. Now that’s moxie.
Waters first opened Martyr Sauce in the front stairwell of her Pioneer Square home (it’s since moved down a few blocks due to the city’s rapidly changing, and much hotly debated, financial and real estate scene). Diving headfirst into Seattle’s arts community is not for the faint of heart, but Waters’ boldness permeates to the core. After all, it takes guts to move across the country, make a living from art, open a business, move it and start again, and raise a family. But equally as admirable is Waters’ drive to support and showcase underrepresented artists. Sure, it takes grit to create something of your own, but real backbone is creating space for others to succeed with you.
Waters’ work and how she carries herself are the definition of cool, but part of that badassery includes her warm and open demeanor in person. She admits to me off the bat that her shaved head was not a deliberate choice, so much as the result of a drunken impulse, but also that she’s wearing gloves in over 80 degree heat, because she didn’t have time to get her nails done. It’s the kind of paradox I find disarmingly relatable—especially as my makeup sweats off onto my camera during our shoot together.
Like many creative women, Waters works incredibly hard and wears a lot of hats (or in her case, sunglasses, which she loves and sells at her gallery). One of Waters’ latest projects is a merchandise collaboration with Seattle Art Museum: a line of totes she designed, emblazoned simply with the word, “NO”—a word that, even as an adult woman, I’m still learning to say to people. When I ask why that word resonates with her so much right now, she looks at me in earnest: “The amount of times you’ve got to say ‘no’ to people,” she shakes her head, explaining the necessity of it as both a professional and as a woman. In 2018, it’s a word that seems more relevant than ever. “But then,” she points out with a laugh, “if you turn [‘NO’] over, it says ‘ON!’” And being “on” is its own power, too, after all, what woman hasn’t had to embody both?
Words and Photos by: Nia Martin
Tell me your life story.
I was born in Richmond, VA, but grew-up in the DMV—pre-gentrification. Growing up, we couldn’t afford cable television, so there was a lot of Sesame Street, Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, Bob Ross and Green Acers on channel 45…if there was a good signal. In between play and TV, surrounded by our uncle’s intricate and beautiful paintings, my sister and I would sketch. I didn’t think much of it. My family is so full of amazing, talented artists that the whole “Look what I did!” to my folks was warmly acknowledged as, “Of course you did.” As a teen, I was a very outspoken socially and politically, and participated in oratory contests in DC in order to win money for college. “My mouth,” as my people would say, got me on the television show, Teen Summit, which was a nationally syndicated program that aired on BET. I got a theatre scholarship to a University, dropped out, traveled, had two babies, and had too much fun resetting what being my full self looked like. I was always “Art adjacent,” in that I was always engaged. It came natural to me so I never thought to pursue it professionally until after I had my daughter while living in Sicily. When I returned to the States, I focused on defining my voice as an artist. I married the love of my life, Ryan Waters in 2008, and moved to Atlanta. In 2011 we were hooked on Portlandia and strongly considered relocating to Portland, but it wasn’t enough of a city for us. We fell in love with Seattle immediately and made the move in 2012.
You’ve lived a few different places. How has each place affected you as an artist and as a person?
I got my start at an HBCU (Historically Black College/University) FAMU (Florida A&M University) as a theatre major and couldn’t stand it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely university, but it was an extension of the communities I grew up in and around. It was too much like home in too many ways, which was the antithesis of what “going away to school” meant for me…so I bounced. I was figuratively on the first Volkswagen Bus out of town. In my reckless youth, I really wanted to carve out my own experiences (for better or worse). I met a lot of interesting people along the way (some better, some worse) and each place where I’ve lived has been defined by these experiences and people. It makes for some good stories and even better art…and I got stories for days! Ha!
What are some of your greatest achievements so far? This can be from any space in your life: career, creative, relationships, travel, community, etc.
I’ve always rebelled against the status quo. For me, that’s the crux of being an artist. When we came to Seattle, we disrupted the art scene by establishing an art gallery in a stairway in a neighborhood known for the first ever art walk in the country. Also a neighborhood where there is a considerable lack of diversity in business ownership and art spaces/galleries. In this city, black and brown people have been pushed out of their communities. So when my wholly black self sits outside of my art gallery/music venue/beauty supply store, I am a steady reminder to gentrifiers that white approval is not the standard. Based off of that disruption, I’ve been invited to consult with major institutions around the city and bring a bit of that sauce. Whether it was helping to facilitate and co-curate the start of Re:definition at The Paramount Theatre, leading a Fashion Intensive Program at Cornish, or Martyr Sauce becoming a cultural partner for the Seattle Art Fair.
Describe a time that made you feel more vulnerable than you’ve ever felt.
I’m vulnerable anytime I put new work out into the world. I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit.
How do you navigate experiences of insecurity?
Pour a bit of Hennessey, turn on some Curtis Mayfield, put on my roller skates and skate around Martyr Sauce in my knickers…because I can.
The city has changed so much since you first moved here. What’s changed between now and then in terms of what you want most for your life?
Every major city has changed since I’ve moved to Seattle. What I want for my family and myself expands farther than I’ve ever had to consider before. We’re a family of artists with no day jobs or backup plans. My husband and I run a business. We’ve been serving our Seattle community in various ways, come hell or high water for the past 6 years. It’s a grind, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want to continue and grow what we do, but when you have an already white city further whitewashing communities of color for more “Artisanal Pickled Peppered Pear” specialty shops, it’s difficult being of service to folks that look at you like, “What are you doing in my neighborhood?” or “How can you afford this?” It’s difficult when I have to fear for my kid’s safety…that white gaze ain’t no joke. It wears you down and I’m not from around here, so you’re not going to get that passive-aggressive “Seattle freeze” shit from me. You’re gonna get, “What the fuck you lookin’ at?!?!” I/we didn’t have any false pretenses when we moved here. I’ve lived all over and abroad. I grew up in predominately black communities my whole life. Fighting off the skyrocketing costs of living while dealing with racist bullshit in this current climate is becoming exponentially more frustrating and difficult, but the fight continues and the gloves are coming off.
Your gallery is named Martyr Sauce. A martyr is someone who endures suffering as a consequence for their rebellion against a held idea or belief. What held ideas about women do you rebel against and how?
My biggest pet peeves are male artists “mansplaining” a woman’s femininity and sexuality through their lens…especially black men. The art world needs to allow more spaces and opportunities for women to explore, share and shape their stories and experiences…especially black women.
What about you makes you most proud?
My two children, 9 and Kaelau! (Yes, my son’s name on his birth certificate is the numeral, 9…one day I hope to get him on Sesame Street). They are blooming artists in their own right and two of the most insightful, sweet people working toward filling this planet with more compassion, empathy, and light each day. As an educator at Seattle Art Museum, the youth today continue to lift my “Eeyore-like” dark cloud of cynicism and fear of the future. I’m proud to be raising two gems!
Who is your girl crush? Why?
I don’t have a crush that comes to mind, but I think my daughter, Kaelau is pretty extraordinary. She’s definitely raised my blood pressure a time or two, but I’m really enjoying watching her define her truth with such originality, independence, and grace.
Is there a piece of art/music/pop culture, made by someone else, that you see yourself in? Why do you connect to it?
There is a deep web of art, music, and fashion that is difficult to untangle and explain how I’m connected to it. However, my favorite tee shirt in the whole wide world from one of my favorite artists says, “Fuck You I’m Clyde Petersen” on the front and, “Queer Artist! Great Lover! National Treasure!” on the back. When I’m struttin’ around the city wearing it, I feel 10 feet tall…especially when I’m buying tampons in Target.
Your personal style is very visual. What clothing pieces feel truest to who you are on the inside?
My shades! Honey! Yaaas! I am a very emotional with what I decide to put on. If I’m feeling extra sexy and fly, I will walk out the door with 4 inch heels, a pair of super short cut-offs with my ass damn near hanging out and give zero fucks! But rockin’ a dope pair of shades (you can wear indoors or out) means that my self-expression is not for your delight or entertainment, and if I choose to engage with you, it will be on my time, not yours. I’m here…you’re fuckin’ welcome.
In what circumstances do you judge other women? Share an example.
In this #METOO era, I am extremely critical of women that do not protect their children from physical and/or sexual abuse…which usually happens at the hands of family members and friends. Having been sexually abused by my grandfather, I learned at an early age from the women in my family how to tolerate and excuse the inexcusable…all in order to protect the perception of “normal.” There is an impenetrable hierarchy of generational victimization. My family, like most, is filled with love and laughter, but also like most families, children carry the burden of having to navigate the weight of their parent’s shortcomings. My kids will have their fair share for sure, however, when it came to my own children, I knew that I was capable of murder if anything ever happened to them. My children know my loyalty and protection does not waiver, no matter who is causing them harm.
What do you do to combat negativity in your relationships with other women?
I’ve gotten to an age where if you’re toxic or negative in any way, I will not make space for you in my life. I tend to have good, thoughtful, badass women around. We have civil disagreements. Even if a few drinks are consumed and voices and tempers are raised, we end up laughing and hugging it out…usually because we’re fighting the same fight. At the end of the day, we all want each other to shine and rule.
What do you love about the relationships between women?
Good conversations…especially with women who don’t take themselves too seriously.
What’s next for you both personally and professionally?
Personally, I have to get a hysterectomy this fall. I’m staying positive and calling it corrective surgery. It’s almost the same as getting new titties, but at least I won’t have a period anymore. Tight white pants, here I come! Professionally, I just received The Artist Trust 2018 Fellowship Award, I have a few pieces exhibiting at Seattle Art Museum Gallery’s group show: Splitting Image and I co-curated and have works included in Re:definition’s latest exhibit celebrating The Paramount Theatre’s 90th Birthday. I have new works going up at Bellevue Art Museum’s Bellwether exhibit at the end of August. I’ll be exhibiting and giving a lecture at Washington State University in October, co-curating Tacoma Art Museum’s biennial/triennial exhibition NW Art Now this spring, and my passion project, Martyr Sauce Underground TV launch is coming soon.
