Muse of Downtown Phoenix on Life, Lessons & Legacy

We’re looking forward to introducing you to Muse. Check out our conversation below.

Good morning Muse, it’s such a great way to kick off the day – I think our readers will love hearing your stories, experiences and about how you think about life and work. Let’s jump right in? What do you think others are secretly struggling with—but never say?
I think many people are silently struggling with the pressure to perform who they believe they should be instead of becoming who they truly are. There’s an unspoken grief that comes with abandoning parts of yourself to meet expectations, especially for women, Black women in particular, who are expected to be everything to everyone and nothing for themselves.

Underneath the curated images and polished resumes is a deep yearning to be seen beyond productivity, usefulness, or roles we’ve inherited. I think we’re craving spaces where we don’t have to audition for belonging. Where our softness isn’t mistaken for weakness. Where choosing rest or choosing ourselves is just normal.

So many are carrying the quiet exhaustion of pretending. And I believe the real liberation begins when we stop performing and start telling the truth.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Muse, artist, storyteller, and founder of the MUSE•eum, a creative studio and cultural third space based in Phoenix. I center Black stories, imagination, and creative liberation through art, events, and experiences that invite people to return to themselves.

My work lives at the intersection of personal truth and collective memory. From writing workshops and storytelling to immersive installations and an upcoming print collection titled “We Are the Muses,” everything I create is about reclaiming identity, rest, and power, especially for Black people who have been asked to perform more than they have been allowed to be.

Right now I am on a 40×40 journey to sell 40 art prints by my 40th birthday as a way to get stories of becoming on walls that need reminders. I believe creativity saves lives. It saved mine. And I am here to make sure others know your story is your power and it is time to unleash it.

Okay, so here’s a deep one: What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
The part of me that believed I had to earn rest, love, or worth through overperformance has served its purpose. She protected me. She got me here. But now she is keeping me small.

That version of me, the one who said yes too quickly, who edited herself to be more palatable, who thought being needed was the same as being valued, can no longer lead. I release her with gratitude, not shame.

I am choosing softness without apology, without guilt, without justification. I no longer need to prove I deserve to exist.

I just do.

Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
Yes. There was a time I almost gave up, and it was during the pandemic. Everything stopped. Events, meetings, networking, performing. For the first time in a long time, I was not trying to prove anything. I was not showing up for optics. I was not pretending to be okay. I was just still.

And in that stillness, I found peace. I began to enjoy being a nobody. Not in the sense of being invisible, but in the freedom of not having to be on. I fell in love with my own presence. I stopped chasing the version of me the world applauded, and I started tending to the version of me that simply wanted to breathe.

I stayed in that quiet for a while, maybe longer than I expected. But deep down, I have always known that my gifts are not just for me. They are meant to be witnessed. They are meant to make rooms feel like truth. So I am emerging again, not to perform, but to be seen fully for who I actually am.

Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? What’s a cultural value you protect at all costs?
A cultural value I protect at all costs is the truth that Black people are not a monolith. At the MUSE•eum and through every story I tell, I make space for our full range, our contradictions, our beauty, our grief, our joy. I reject the idea that there is one right way to be Black, successful, creative, spiritual, or free.

I also believe that Black folks must collectively invest in self belief practices that center our own truths. Not what the world projects onto us, but what we know deep within. My work is rooted in helping us remember who we are before the world told us who to be. Through art, storytelling, and curated experiences, I invite people to practice that remembering, for themselves and with each other.

At the MUSE•eum, we honor the variety in our stories and the sovereignty in our becoming. We are not here to perform unity. We are here to practice freedom.

Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
I hope the story people tell about me is not just about what I created, but how I made them feel when we crossed paths. I hope they say they met me and, for the first time in a long time, felt safe enough to stop performing. That something about my presence or my work gave them permission to exhale, to return to themselves, to question who they were pretending to be.

I hope they remember me as someone who modeled becoming her own muse, not by being perfect, but by being honest. And I hope that honesty sparked something in them. The courage to be seen, the softness to rest, the boldness to believe they could live on their own terms.

That would be enough for me.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://MuseTeaseprints.com
• Instagram: @theblkmuseaffect and @centered.phx
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/ebone-johnson-696ba452?utm_source=share&utm_campaign=share_via&utm_content=profile&utm_medium=ios_app

Image Credits
N/a