ORANGE COUNTY, Fla. — When it comes to equality, representation matters. It's affirming and inspiring.

And it's precisely what artist Everett Spruill has aimed to interject into his artwork for the last several decades. He has amassed series dedicated to freedom of speech, the right to protest and even reparations. 

“I’d like to think that my art educates people," Spruill said.  "You have to engage it, but it engages you in kind of a benign way ... Maybe one day that seed will grow, and you’ll say, 'Oh, that’s what they were talking about!' "

Spruill has seen injustice firsthand, growing up in Birmingham, Alabama, in the 1950s and 1960s.

“It’s hard to imagine people not liking you for the color of your skin, but growing up with it, it was your reality," he said. “The church bombings, the marches, the riots were part of my upbringing."

In 1963, a Baptist church was bombed by Klansmen, killing four African-American girls.

“I was probably 6 years old when it happened. My sister knew the girls. We knew the McNairs, the family," Spruill said. “We had been terrorized long before that, other churches that were bombed. This was the only one where people actually died.”

Now, painful moments find their way from memory to canvas; the artist inspired by what he's seen, felt and longed for.

“As Black people, we want society to be fair," he said.

Art as a Vehicle for Change

In his Ocoee-area home studio, large paintings are propped up in easels or stacked upon one another virtually everywhere you look, providing a colorful backdrop. 

Paint brush in hand, Spruill stands before his latest piece, dabbing at the canvas with careful strokes. 

On the floor, pieces of tissue paper and fabrics are strewn about. He picks one up, a bold-patterned yellow, red, green, and black strip of African kente cloth. He often works in mixed media and may use them to add dimension to the women’s clothing, he said.

The painting is of African women, many with woven baskets on their heads and dressed in flowing fabrics, heading to market. Spruill said it's destined to hang in the soon-to-open African art gallery, Bronze Kingdom, along International Drive, fittingly by their gift shop or "market."

Spruill has never taken an art class. 

But, he grew up with a photographer mother, studied the "masters" of art, and developed a keen sense of what a canvas — and a history lesson — can do.

“We need to see positive images of ourselves,“ Spruill said. “We’re bombarded with the negative stuff. We have been downtrodden so long, we need to lift ourselves up, and this is one way I can help lift a community."

So, Spruill spent eight weeks working with children in the Parramore area at the Callahan Neighborhood Center. 

Arrihana Gandy, who said she likes to draw and paint, was one of the nearly dozen students who came each week to learn.

“He taught us about other artists and musicians," she said. “To learn about people I didn’t know about, it’s always interesting.”

“They had no idea who Bessie Coleman was. I show them Picasso. 'What, I can do that! $50 million, I’m in!' " Spruill said, laughing, "It helps them see a different way. It really can transform their lives."

"We Can Do Great Things"

As part of the summer program, the weathered banners that long hung in the community center were replaced — a massive undertaking.

The students needed to fashion 32 double-sided banners — 64 pieces in all — to span the length of the building.

At the end of the program, the city of Orlando hoisted up the students' artwork to display high above for everyone to see.

“We put our sweat into this," Gandy said, staring up at the banners above her head.

The 11-year-old student said she had a hand in painting many of the pieces, but one in particular sticks out to her:  an image of two smiling girls, one Black and the other white, hugging.

“Even though the world is a little bit cruel and going through some things, it makes me feel like it doesn’t matter what I look like; I know I’m loved," Gandy said. "The world today, conflict doesn’t reflect on that.”

It’s why Spruill keeps painting. He wants to celebrate Black beauty, people and accomplishments, some of which are abbreviated or completely left out of students' history books. 

With every brushstroke, Spruill crafts a picture of something better.

“We've had it so hard, you know. It's just time we focus on ourselves and stop worrying about other people liking us," he said, staring at his canvas. 

He crosses his arms, tears pooling in his eyes, and apologizes for suddenly getting emotional.

"I want our people to see we can do great things, in spite of all of it."