Ryker is a queer, trans, multidisciplinary artist, writer, and storyteller whose practice spans mixed media, photography, painting, video, and digital mediums. He holds a BFA in Graphic Design from MassArt and has worked professionally in the field for over 20 years. His work extends beyond the digital and encompasses art installations, exhibitions, community-engaged art, murals, and publications.
Ryker’s process is rooted in exploring the boundaries between mediums and the boundaries between the seen and unseen, bringing the inner landscape of a visceral experience into being. He explores themes of identity, the body, nature, and what it means to embrace truth—even the truths that hide within our shadow parts. He examines the trans experience through a universal lens in order to open space for seeing trans people as people first, without a label. He invites viewers to connect with shared human experiences to create deeper awareness and connection. Ryker believes art is connection and that creativity becomes art when it can be felt, shared, and experienced by others.
@Ryker_Reboot

Maybe they have always wanted to own bodies, control them, trap them in packaging that can easily be consumed. Maybe it’s the beasts of nature they fear—the humanity within themselves, the uncontrollable. For the liberated body has no place in a cannibalistic culture—but how do you free yourself when they seek to devour you? How do you rip apart these marionette threads and use them to sew yourself into something honest, something whole? How do you hold all of your history—the grief, joy, despair, and hope?
Perhaps it’s more about fully embracing the small things: feeling my hair growing as an act of empowerment, feeling the wet moss between my toes, feeling your smile hold me, sharing myself as honestly as I am able. Feeling the power of owning my own body, creating myself, creating love even as the world consumes itself.
Sometimes I think of this movie from when I was younger about a girl whose brother was stolen. I wonder if she was really saving the little boy inside herself—that it was really that boy who was stolen. I remember watching her—searching, forgetting, remembering, and forgetting again as she lost herself in the labyrinth until she faced the Goblin King. Standing in a world turned upside down, trying to understand what was stolen from her. When she finally remembers, it becomes more. It becomes a knowing, a return of what was lost, and her eyes open, realizing and claiming the words: “You have no power over me.”