We recently had the chance to connect with Brett Dyer and have shared our conversation below.
Hi Brett, thank you for taking the time to reflect back on your journey with us. I think our readers are in for a real treat. There is so much we can all learn from each other and so thank you again for opening up with us. Let’s get into it: What are you most proud of building — that nobody sees?
The life my spouse and I built quietly, in the margins of everything else, between our work, gallery openings, events, leadership decisions, and late-night studio hours.
Pride lives in the teams shaped over time and in the students who stand taller because someone believed in them. Pride lives in the art made when no one is watching.
Most of what matters cannot be measured. It is felt.
Creating. Teaching. Meaningful conversations. Moments when the pressure to perform fades and presence takes over. Those moments are reminders of who I am beneath roles and responsibilities, and why the work matters.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I am a multidisciplinary artist, educator, and arts leader based in Dallas–Fort Worth. I serve as Senior Director of Gallery and Live Events at Dallas College, where I help guide teams responsible for twelve galleries, ten theatres, more than 1,300 works of art, and a range of studios and labs where students learn and create.
I grew up in a small rural town and was the first in my family to earn a college degree. Art became both direction and purpose early on. That path carried me from working multiple jobs to helping support large, multi-campus arts operations in higher education, while maintaining a studio practice that has been featured nationally and internationally.
Right now, my focus is on expanding access to the arts through our galleries, theatres, studios, and labs; through partnerships with cultural institutions and community collaborators; and through personal projects meant to connect, heal, and inspire. At the center of it all is a simple belief: art belongs to everyone, and access changes lives.
Appreciate your sharing that. Let’s talk about your life, growing up and some of topics and learnings around that. Who saw you clearly before you could see yourself?
Growing up on a cattle farm in East Texas, belonging did not come easily. Life at home was unpredictable and unstable. Love was conditional. Work was not optional or tied to allowance. It was the cost of living and surviving. Fitting expected roles often felt like wearing a mask. I was deeply sensitive and hyperaware, and even as a child, I understood that education and art might be my only way forward.
School and my teachers were my guides and saving grace. I gravitated toward them early because I wanted to learn and be prepared. I often felt older than my age, already aware of responsibility, mortality, suffering, and how fragile life could be. I knew I needed my teachers, and I trusted them more than anyone.
From elementary school through high school, they recognized something in me before I could name it myself. I was very shy and in speech therapy from kindergarten through middle school. But through education and art, I found purpose, encouragement, and growth. Without them, I really do not think I would be here today.
In 2019, during a solo exhibition at the Longview Museum of Fine Art, every one of my art teachers from elementary through high school attended, along with college professors whose work I had admired in that same museum as a teenager. It was a full-circle moment.
More recently, I had the honor of introducing my first art professor from Kilgore College, John Hillier, at a solo exhibition of his current work at Dallas College North Lake Campus. I shared with students, faculty, and campus guests how his kindness and teaching altered the course of my life. I encouraged them to lean into their professors, to build those relationships, and to listen and ask questions. Those connections last.
Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
Yes, quietly, and many times in the way exhaustion and trauma can make everything feel heavy and hopeless, but continuing felt necessary and was my only option. Over time, I learned that progress does not need to be loud.
Sometimes it is simply taking the next step. Sometimes you walk alone. Sometimes someone walks beside you. Either way, you keep going. You keep doing the work.
Life is paradoxical.
Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. What’s a belief or project you’re committed to, no matter how long it takes?
I am committed to expanding access to the arts and to the idea that creativity belongs to everyone, not only to those who begin with confidence, resources, or permission.
Much of the work involves building systems and spaces where people can learn, create, and be taken seriously. That work is slow at times, and it requires patience, trust, long vision, strategy, and real time solutions.
Another belief guides how I work: empathy, kindness, and accountability belong together. Fairness, merit, and earned growth matter. Access is not about lowering expectations. It is about widening the door and walking with people as they discover, grow and work.
Okay, so before we go, let’s tackle one more area. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
I hope the story is a simple one. That I was steady, tenacious, and resilient. That I helped build and create work that mattered, treated people with kindness and respect, and left spaces better and more colorful than I found them.
If titles and roles fell away, I hope what remains is a belief in possibility, a commitment to integrity, endless ideas, and finding joy in helping others learn and succeed.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.brettdyerart.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brettleedyer?igsh=MWc1aXc0cDk2NXpjcg==
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/brett-dyer-4646613?utm_source=share&utm_campaign=share_via&utm_content=profile&utm_medium=android_app
Image Credits
Dallas College Staff
Self
