January 2024

A painter who won acclaim for his work that evolved in New Orleans moves to another legendary Southern city - but for how long is anyone’s guess.

-by Bogdan Mynka

Editor’s note 3/2024:  Hopkins’ 2022 - 2023 show at the Cabildo, “New Orleans Creole, Honey!” was recently named the Museum Exhibition of the Year by the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities. And adding to his status as one of the South's "Creative Movers and Shakers," the artist was also featured on the cover of the April/May 2024 issue Garden & Gun. Visit Andrew LaMar Hopkins' French Quarter studio in July 2023 with Saskia Ozols in this FQJ story. 

On a crisp Sunday morning, as the wispy fog fades into the glowing horizon, Andrew Lamar Hopkins and I carry the last of his belongings from his French Quarter studio into a 20-foot U-haul. Destination: Savannah, Georgia. 

Key in ignition and spirits high, like a boat at sea, the truck teeter-totters its way off of Barracks Street and out of the Quarter. As the rubber hits the road toward Andrew’s new home, a wave of emotion overcomes the painter. 

“I do feel a nostalgia, leaving,” he says, gazing out at the familiar streets and alleyways. “Not a sadness - it’s not any negative feeling.  Of course, I’m excited and looking forward to my new chapter, but I’ll miss New Orleans and my community in the French Quarter.”

The sunlight reflects brightly from the asphalt and some hours later we relish the beautiful countryside views that Mississippi and Alabama offer. To accompany our scenic drive, we queue up Max Richter’s Vivaldi re-compositions, some Dr. John for the good times, and later some upbeat Tame Impala to keep us from surrendering to the splendor completely.

For 13 years Andrew lived, painted in, and touched the hearts of many who call New Orleans home. His iconic studio on the corner of Barracks and Decatur streets, with a wrap-around balcony overlooking Envie Coffee House and the Old Mint, was home for nearly three years. [Visit Andrew’s studio with Saskia Ozol in July 2023.]

Anyone stepping foot into Andrew Hopkins’ home there experienced a magical immersion into beauty and sophistication. An impeccable host, Andrew’s warmth,  kind smile, and insatiable laughter are contagious. On special occasions, Andrew graced the public with his flamboyant alter-ego drag queen persona - Mrs. Desiree, lighting up the room at any society soirée.

Whether for one of his legendary champagne parties or to buy a one-of-a-kind, trending piece, it was impossible to ignore the creative and healing energy Andrew emanated from his French Quarter residence.   Every inch of the studio apartment walls was covered with gold-plated picture frames. In one corner – a unique mahogany French armchair from the Louis-Phillipe period, and opposite – a stunning black marble guéridon.  Most flat surfaces were topped with hand-painted porcelain that formerly belonged to luminaries, famous Creoles, or perhaps a member of the French aristocracy.

Stepping out onto the slanted wraparound balcony of the brick Creole townhouse, the timelessly warm Mississippi breeze carrying the echoes of street performers’ instruments.  Paired with the right kind of company,  you could swear it was 1840. 

After an abrupt rent increase of $550 and an ultimatum threatening eviction if the renter failed to comply, the artist chose not to cave to the demands. This, coupled with a desire for a change of scenery, resulted in the artist saying his goodbyes to the Crescent City – for now. 

In Mobile, Alabama, we stop by the house of a long-time supporter and collector of Andrew’s work. Inside her beautiful antebellum house, an original painting by Andrew hangs on nearly every wall. As we walk from room to room, it’s as if Andrew is meeting old acquaintances, once close, but now separated by more than just geographical distance.

Back on the road, he says that all of the paintings we had just seen were purchased directly through him, not a gallery or distributor. Working with a gallery, though it’s often the smart choice for emerging and even successful artists, isn’t worth the frustrations that come with giving up certain artistic freedoms: “I’m never going to give up the right to sell my own [artworks],” he declares. 

We stop for a quick lunch at a cafeteria before refilling and heading on to Montgomery, where we will stay the night. We fill up the gas tank to avoid unnecessary stops, as Andrew prefers to enjoy the ride all in one go and not make intermittent breaks along the way. Among the many conversations on this trip, perhaps the ones with the natural landscapes we pass, in blissful silence, are the most inspiring.

By far, the most beautiful part of the drive is the convergence of Alabama and Georgia. The much taller long-leaf pines are impossible to ignore, even behind the wheel. The red clay and the autumn-colored leaves make for a dazzling backdrop as the talking turns to music, art, and spending summers in France. 

As the scenery begins to change and the pines grow taller and the clay in the earthburns redder, the conversation migrates to a common topic between us– the artistic process. You’ve got to move around, geographically and otherwise, we agree. Staying in the comfort zone can be devastating for creativity, and the resistance will find any way to keep you from completing your work.

“When you stay in the same headspace, you’re not going to grow, and you’re not going to expand,” Andrew says. 

Growing up in his birthplace of Mobile the odds were certainly not in Andrew’s  favor. But he tells me that from an early age,  a voice encouraged him to believe in himself, his talent, and his destiny. He began painting at the young age of 19 and sold paintings in downtown Mobile for whatever he could sell them for. The historic downtown of the city, which bears some architectural similarities to the French Quarter, is part of what encouraged his move to New Orleans later on. 

Fast-forward some decades later and the self-titled “historical folk outside artist” is both successful and sought after. His distinctive artwork reimagines and re-remembers the unspoken and unpainted history of the Creole people. In 2020, his work exploded on the New York art scene and he became the darling of national media outlets. In 2022, he became the first living Black artist to exhibit in the Cabildo, a prestigious state museum in the French Quarter.  The show, “Creole New Orleans, Honey,” had closed at the end of September, just weeks before his move. 

The Creole painter initially courted Savannah during the pandemic. The Georgia seaport is home to the Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD), which draws artists and creatives from all corners of the world.  A three-month isolation there, which also served as a break from the rowdy Quarter, turned into a longtime affair with the city.  

It’s a smaller city, and by the same notion, a quieter one. When I ask him if he has already made a circle of friends in Savannah, he quickly replies in the negative. The goal of the move is to focus on the creative process and the development of his creations. Taking a break from the social and party-centered life in New Orleans is important, too. 

As the white stripes in the middle of the highway sweep by and the leaves change color in front of our eyes, another common theme of our conversations comes up: the difficulty of cutting off negative energy, especially when it’s coming from a family member or close one.

“I realized that - and I still can be controlling - going with the flow, instead of planning stuff and then being mad that it didn’t work out… is a lot more freeing and easy.”

On the topic of letting go of expectations, Andrew gives this advice:

“Do whatever you want to do from your heart and soul, and stick with it. You’re going to get resistance.” He then went on to tell his own story of how his career launched back in the ‘90s.

It all started with former gallery owner and French Quarter socialite Margarita Bergen who introduced him to a pair of art dealers living in Paris. “She believed in my work.  Margarita would buy them [paintings] right from me, just a couple at a time.”  

When he was going to Paris, Margarita would make sure to catch him before his departure and buy a painting or two for several hundred dollars. It was enough to help pay for transportation to Paris, and there was even some remaining to chip away at room and board costs.

“She believed in me and she was highly connecting. [She’d say] ‘I want you to meet some friends in Paris who are in the art gallery world.’”

But even with allies, it took many years before he came to the attention of the national art establishment. “You have to stick with it. I was a starving artist for most of my life.” 

I ask him about the voice, the voice that believed in him when no one else did - was it a family member, a close friend?

“That was just me!” He recites an old Southern saying that his grandmother used to tell him. If we’re talking about drama and the opinions of others, he says it even more often: “Don’t let what people say affect you. Let it be like water off a duck’s back.” 

Once we arrive at our destination, we bring in the things we need for the night and take a deep breath. We’d unpack in the morning. It is time to pop the champagne, celebrate the successful voyage, and sit down in an unmoving vessel. We raise a toast to new beginnings, to healing all the traumas of this life and lives past, and to manifesting a peaceful and inspiration-filled near-future. 

Outside, Andrew remarks on the oddity of the azaleas blooming in October. There’s a park immediately outside. There’s a park on every block, as a matter of fact, and was undoubtedly a deciding factor when choosing this neighborhood.

Our dinner is a proper collaboration—I make Italian-style mushroom risotto while Andrew cooks up his famous Creole roasted jalapeno corn and steamed cheddar broccoli. We sip Bordeaux wine and eat with silver cutlery belonging to a contemporary of Marie Antoinette. We take a moment to savor the trajectory of our lives.

Later that night we meet up with a friend and make our way to an Abe Lincoln-themed bar which features hundreds of Lincoln sketches in all imaginable styles and themes. Somewhere, on one of those ragged walls is one such sketch of the deceased president by ALH himself. We scan the walls and ceilings, circle the posts, but are ultimately unable to find his rendition, (but for the treasure hunters and easter-egg-finders, this should keep you occupied for a while should you visit).  

During my last day before returning to New Orleans, Andrew gives me a longer tour of the city and shows off the work of architects that bring him joy to be surrounded by.  Inevitably, he says, more of Savannah Federal and Georgian style architecture will show up in his paintings despite the fact that most of the architecture featured in his paintings up to this point has been French or French-inspired.

We stop by several thrift stores and his quick and attentive eye bursts into action– no doubt from decades of working closely with fine antiques and jewelry. While I hunt for a silver cigarette box, Andrew is falling in love with a chic 1920s feathered hat, and a glorious orange, blue, and gold dress—both of which are now part of Ms. Desiree’s extensive wardrobe.

Though Quarter residents will no longer be able to call Ms. Desiree “neighbor,” nor see her adorned with fine jewelry elegantly parading down Royal Street, the magic is not gone. It has merely migrated about 600 miles East and will be back in time for Mardi Gras.