Jumpin’ Rope with Lynthia Edwards
Jumpin’ Rope with Lynthia Edwards
by D. Amari Jackson
“Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, turn around
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear,touch the ground
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear,reach up high
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear,touch the sky”
There it is, the chant, the pattern, the rhythm. Far from still, it’s full color in motion, the sharp skip of the rope, driving, repetitive. And with it, for Lynthia “Big Wheeler” Edwards, comes the visions, the nostalgia… the art.
“Growing up, I’ve always held memories of words, of conversations, of color combinations, of music that was running through my head, continuously, to the point that I couldn't focus on what was in front of me,” acknowledges Edwards, noting how it “fueled my creativity and my ability to produce work because I had to create all these different things to focus and give myself some mental relief. It could be songs from childhood, like jump rope songs. That’s a big theme in my work now.”
Color, culture, cadence, and collage, all prominent artistic expressions of the Alexander City, Alabama native who grew up in the more rural part of the state “very Southern and very country.” A multidisciplinary artist and teacher with a Masters in Art Education from the University of Alabama at Birmingham, Edwards is the recipient of numerous awards and fellowships including the 2021 Alabama State Council for the Arts Fellow Award; “Best of Show” honors at the Montgomery Art Guild and Regions Bank Exhibition in 2019; and the Purchase Award from the Alabama Art Colony in 2005 and 2006. Her work is featured in numerous public and private collections including that of the late Congressman John Lewis.
“I really love Southern folk art,” says Edwards, clarifying that “my love for Southern folk art is what has influenced my material given you use any and everything that’s readily available to you. I use envelope interiors because you get all them bills in the mail, so what do you do with the envelopes, right?” She references the “beautiful designs already printed inside” of envelopes before invoking “my children’s and my grandbaby's clothing” and how “once they’ve outgrown them, I scrap them up and use them in my work.” Along with hand-painted papers, and even incorporating images of her own hands, “I use snack containers like the cardboard that the Rice Crispy Treat came in, or leftover candy wrappers that my children leave laying on the floor. I use any and everything that’s just sitting around.”
Get These Dog I'm Finna Hula Hoop by Lythnia Edwards - Black Art In America Gallery, 64 x 48 inches, Mixed media and collage on canvas. (Coca-Cola packaging, children’s clothing, embroidery string, vintage table cloths, cross stitched napkins, hand painted papers, and lace)
Such expression moves beyond candy to incorporate family and culture. Edwards reveals her own personal favorite to be “Jumping the Rope”, a piece with her and her sisters playing jump rope. “It was just that continuous jump rope rhyme that kept playing in my head so, I was like, you know what? There’s something there. There's Black girlhood, there's childhood memories, there's cultural memory, there’s the cultural experiences of being a Black girl. And that's basically how that piece came about.”
“I love her whimsical playfulness and how, even in the playfulness, there are still strong decisions that represent our culture and our community very well,” says Phyllis Stephens, a fifth-generation master quiltmaker who was first shown Edwards’ work several years ago by their mutual gallerist, Richard Beavers. “She brings a fresh, new energy and I think that her work is really alive.”
“There’s an innocence, a playfulness, and a joyfulness to her work,” agrees Beavers, owner of Richard Beavers Gallery, a Brooklyn-based contemporary art establishment. Along with Edwards, her 20-year-old gallery is participating in EXPO CHICAGO 2026 from April 9 to 12 in a group exhibition entitled “Subject Matters” curated by Dr. Charles Moore. The presentation challenges stereotypes while exploring “what it truly means for a community to matter in an era of rewritten histories and politicized identities.”
Lynthia Edwards, Cinderella, Dressed in Yella (featured art with Richard Beavers Gallery Expo Chicago 2026) Vintage Napkins, Envelope Interiors, Tootsie Roll Pop Wrappers, Lance Cracker Box, Acrylic Paint and Graphite on Canvas, 60 x 40 x 2.5 in, 2026
Beavers first saw Edwards’ work on a Black Art in America social media post four years ago. “It was nostalgic for me” as it “just reminded me of Black girls that I grew up with in my community, from my neighborhood. It was very reminiscent of that, very familiar to me. I know those little girls that she creates.”
Ironically—despite her vivid cultural and familial memories and penchant for nostalgia—artistic playfulness was not encouraged during Edwards’ childhood in rural Alabama. “I was raised in a Pentecostal church, so I lived a really modest life with modest clothes,” says Edwards, who “didn't wear pants until I was like 10. We always wore dresses.”
Yet amidst their strict small-town Pentecostal life, Edwards’ childhood was also filled with the rituals of play, be it jump rope rhymes, hand clap songs, games with siblings, and imaginary friends. The self-described “quirky” adolescent loved patterns and colors, and she remembers drawing constantly “on Piggly Wiggly paper bags,” on test papers, and on her hands and arms as if they were canvases. She drew designs on her tights to give them flair, studied company logos “for their negative space,” and filled every available surface with marks.
Blackest Blues by Lynthia Edwards - Richard Beavers Gallery
Edwards further recalls the thrill of owning a Big Wheel. “That was some top of the line traveling as a kid,” she boasts, stressing that “I had a Big Wheel with brakes.” Her adopted artistic moniker was as much a result of her own toy vehicle and others who possessed them as the “cultural connection to Big Wheels in the Black community, about who were the ‘big wheelers” or those that “would possibly grow up to have fancy cars, wear gold jewelry, and things like that.”
Edwards’ artistic flair made her parents uneasy. Upon her decision to attend college at the Art Institute of Atlanta, her mother, fearing the stereotype of the starving roadside artist, “cried the day I went off to art school.” Consistently, “coming from a small town in Alabama where I was really the only artist there, I was viewed as being different and, in some cases, weird,” laughs Edwards, her mother now being one of her biggest supporters. “But when I went to the Art Institute, all the little quirkiness and weirdo edginess was embraced, and I saw other people that were like me. It really made me feel much better about myself.”
After college, Edwards taught public school before feeling “a calling to do much more” and joining the Alabama Department of Youth Services, the state’s juvenile corrections system. She spent thirteen years teaching adjudicated boys, some as young as ten. “I had to learn the personality and mannerisms of the boys,” she explains. Though the work was demanding, it deepened her understanding of young Black masculinity, knowledge she would later draw on when creating artistic images of boys after years of focusing almost exclusively on girls.
Upon a one-year stint at a charter school, Edwards stepped away from teaching altogether to pursue art full-time. By then, she had developed a creative process rooted in memory, intuition, and what she calls “brain mapping”—a single word might lodge in her mind, then she would write it down and build outward with colors, gestures, people, and associations until an image emerged. Or she would start with a color and “then it moves into a childhood memory, and then I just start to build the face, and then the face tells me the entire story. And once I’ve created the face of the child or the person I'm creating, I have a connection to them.” As an example, she references a little girl with a smile on her face, begging, “But what is she smiling about? And then I connect that question with one of the colors that I have… oh, there’s yellow… she's smiling about sunflowers. She’s smiling about how the sun feels on her skin when she’s outside.”
Edwards smiles a lot more these days knowing that her work has braided together the themes that have shaped her life—Southern folk aesthetics, Black culture, found objects, the imaginative elasticity of childhood, and her strict religious upbringing. “My artwork reflects me rebelling against the Pentecostal church in ways, as well as embracing the experience,” she admits, noting how her young female subjects “are dressed modest. They’re normally covered and you rarely see their arms or their skin out. And then, in some ways, the rebellion comes in colored nails and maybe a little lip gloss, pink lips, or something of that nature.”
But, adds Edwards, “you’ll always see them wearing a dress.”
Blue rasberry, Rain Rain Go Away and I Heart You - Black Art In America Gallery
Even her future ambitions reach back to her roots. Edwards hopes to expand into assemblage, inspired by the Alabama folk artist Charlie Lucas and by her grandfather, the latter who unknowingly practiced assemblage long before she had a name for it. “He would use anything readily available, things around the yard,” she says, recalling the small sculptures he fashioned from scraps.
Beavers is looking to the future as well. “I’m really proud of how much she’s grown over the years, and I would like for people to get to know who she is, the person behind these incredible works,” says the gallerist. Simultaneously, they should recognize “the inspiration for her works, because she speaks to so many Black women that grew up in the South, who were once young girls, and the work she’s creating is not only representative of herself, but of them, coming from a religious home and the challenges that came along with that, and then balancing that all as a young Black girl.”
“All of this is messaged in her work,” continues Beavers. “And when we exhibit it, it makes such a huge impact on the people that come and see it.”
Featured image top: Ten little black girls by Lynthia Edwards - Richard Beavers Gallery