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'The American Society of Magical Negroes': You don't wanna join this club

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'The American Society of Magical Negroes': You don't wanna join this club

Aren (Justice Smith) and Roger (David Alan Grier) in The American Society of Magical Negroes.

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Aren (Justice Smith) and Roger (David Alan Grier) in The American Society of Magical Negroes.

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Lately, I’ve been musing on the concept of time and its relationship to Black art and identity. I keep bumping into this question: What time do we all think we’re living in right now?

In the year of someone’s lord 2024, a recent episode of Feud: Capote vs. The Swans conjured up James Baldwin – the same James Baldwin who once wrote, “I don’t like people who like me because I’m a Negro; neither do I like people who find in the same accident grounds for contempt” – as a Magical Negro to Truman Capote.

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A straight-faced excavation of this old Hollywood trope, which has been on the wane for some time, is startling enough. But now there’s also Kobi Libii’s feature debut, The American Society of Magical Negroes, which attempts to skewer it. The comedy writer and performer imagines an underground network of Black mystics who dedicate their lives to placating white people for the safety of Black people everywhere. “White discomfort,” as one character opines, is the “nemesis” of Black existence.

If this all sounds like the premise for a classic Key & Peele sketch, you wouldn’t be too far off. The trouble is, as far as I can tell, no one involved with writing Key & Peele had anything to do with the Society of Magical Negroes.

The movie has at least two crucial factors working against it. For one, the Magical Negro trope isn’t anywhere near as pervasive in Hollywood as it was when Spike Lee coined the term more than two decades ago. So despite being set in the present day, Libii’s social commentary brings with it no new enlightenment on the dominant stereotypes Black people face now, despite a nearly two-hour runtime.

Second, it has no Black characters. To be clear, there are real Black performers playing these roles on screen. But one would think fully human, complexly written roles ought to exist in a movie where the goal is combatting multiple centuries’ worth of one-dimensional representation. Here, they decidedly do not.

The Illuminati, but make it respectable

In Society of Magical Negroes, Justice Smith plays Aren, a dull and depressing L.A. artist whose specialty is dull and depressing abstract yarn installations. His latest work is on display at an art show, but no one “gets” it. When a white collector mistakes him for the waitstaff, Aren obliges and gets the man a drink instead of trying to convince him to buy his art.

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A member of the actual waitstaff has been observing him all night and introduces himself. It turns out he’s Roger (David Alan Grier), a jolly older man who’s arrived to recruit Aren into the American Society of Magical Negroes, a “firm” that views itself as a group of world-class superheroes. He leads him to their secret headquarters, tucked away behind a Black barbershop, with hallowed rooms and halls that resemble Hogwarts or the Clue mansion. The visual world-building in this regard is the film’s sole inspired choice.

Egotistical tech bro Jason (Drew Tarver) is Aren’s first “client.”

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Egotistical tech bro Jason (Drew Tarver) is Aren’s first “client.”

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Each Society member is assigned a white “client” who’s experiencing some sort of crisis and is dangerously close to taking out their anxieties on innocent Black people. (A “white tears meter” assists in monitoring the threat level at any given moment.) The Magical Negro’s job is to befriend and counsel their client through all their issues until they get whatever it is they want. Aren’s first guinea pig is Jason (Drew Tarver), a disgruntled, egotistical tech bro at a software company called MeetBox, who’s angling for a promotion he almost certainly doesn’t deserve. Aren is hired at MeetBox and immediately gets to work practicing his skill of being a personality-less doormat, which has a great effect on clueless Jason.

Did I mention this is also a workplace rom-com? Sure, why not? Aren discovers one of his other new colleagues is Lizzie (An-Li Bogan), a woman with whom he had the gawkiest and most unsexy of meet-cutes at a coffee shop earlier in the day. Lizzie happens to be Jason’s “work-wife,” but he’s also into her, so that complicates Aren’s adherence to his Magical Negro responsibilities and tests his commitment to The Cause.

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Maybe we’re all just Magical Negroes

So many disparate ideas and tones are being mashed up here, and none of them gel. Libii spends a ton of time obsessing over the details and internal rules of these proud, respectability politicians. Yet he also has a slippery grasp on the trope he seeks to interrogate. In this world, the Magical Negro is broadened out from its very specific real-world definition – Spike Lee was referring to movies with “magical, mystical” Black characters in films like The Legend of Bagger Vance and The Green Mile – to an all-encompassing label that includes any Black person who’s ever merely decided “Not today, Satan” and resisted the bait when dealing with racial microaggressions at work and Crispus Attucks.

Those muddled conflations would be less jarring if Aren were written as anything other than a convenient vessel for showcasing a convoluted premise. We know nothing about him besides that he’s a failed, self-loathing Rhode Island School of Design alum who’s so spineless he’ll awkwardly hold the door for a parade of oblivious exiting passersby before finally entering a coffee shop for himself. Before becoming a Magical Negro (I can’t believe this is an actual sentence I’m writing), he has no community to speak of – no friends, no real job, and no family, except a white mom he offhandedly mentions. (This is somehow both very illuminating and not at all illuminating at the same time.) Where did he grow up? How can Aren afford to be a struggling artist with a decent apartment in Los Angeles in this economy? Has Aren ever spent any time with Black people? (Magical Negroes don’t count.)

Lizzie (An-Li Bogan) and Aren (Justice Smith) have a tedious meet-cute at a coffee shop.

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Lizzie (An-Li Bogan) and Aren (Justice Smith) have a tedious meet-cute at a coffee shop.

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His character arc, if you wish to call it that, concludes with him superficially liberated. In the film’s climax, he gives a grandstanding speech that’s What It’s Like to Be Black 101, a far more grating version of Barbie‘s climactic Feminism 101 monologue. The moment is wholly unearned, and the epiphany lands with a thud because Aren didn’t really start from any place real to begin with. There’s nothing radical or daring about his journey to self-discovery, which hinges almost entirely on his romantic pining for Lizzie. In fact, Libii’s script doesn’t even try to engage with Black radicalism because if it did, The Society would have to come under far more rigorous scrutiny than the film is interested in pursuing. The Magical Negroes, so proud to have single-handedly “raised the Black life expectancy,” at least according to society head Dede (Nicole Byer), exist in a world where the likes of Harriet Tubman, Marcus Garvey, the Black Panthers, and Bree Newsome never existed. The movie’s finale seems content with that omission.

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What time are we living in now?

Nicole Byer is Dede, head of the American Society of Magical Negroes.

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Nicole Byer is Dede, head of the American Society of Magical Negroes.

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So: What time are we living in now? It depends on who you ask and where you look. Not unlike American Fiction, Society of Magical Negroes is convinced Black people on screen and in real life are, by and large, contending with the same stereotypes and barriers that we were 20 years ago. But that’s its own kind of retrograde nostalgia trap to fall into, the kind that can only be constructed by ignoring key parts of history and the present reality.

There are pressing issues like pay inequities and Black-created TV shows being canceled far too soon. But there’s also been so much exciting work being made by filmmakers on every level over the last decade – emerging voices like Nikyatu Jusu, Raven Jackson and Juel Taylor; newly-minted titans like Issa Rae and Jordan Peele; established vets like Gina Prince-Bythewood. They’ve told stories spanning a breadth of genres, sensibilities and character studies, the stuff their predecessors dreamed of. Amid this landscape, it’s hard not to view the Magical Negro as – thankfully – a relic.

Writing more than 25 years ago, bell hooks lamented how a dominant white supremacist environment forced too many Black artists to be hyperfocused on producing “resisting images,” thus overwhelming their creative and upsetting artistic integrity. At the time, she observed that Black filmmaking was still a “fertile frontier” because of the lack of radical images, but that she foresaw a “far distant future” where Blackness will be “overworked, overdone” just as whiteness has been. We’re a little bit closer to that future than we’ve ever been. But evidently, we’ve still got some ways to go.

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Street style at the Hollywood Farmers Market feels like a magic Saturday evening

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Street style at the Hollywood Farmers Market feels like a magic Saturday evening

Over the course of three Sundays, Image contributing photographer Jennelle Fong captured stylish visitors with their bounty at the venerated Hollywood Farmers Market. “It didn’t have to be a Sunday morning, it could’ve been a Saturday evening,” says Fong. Walking up and down the cross of the four corridors of the farmers market felt like a runway: sweat pants mixed with Hermès, coordinated ERL looks, a Converse heel and an actual Balenciaga x Erewhon bag. Even the rolling carts served as extensions of people’s accessories. The energy was radiant, easygoing, alert and nothing short of magical.

Street-style fashion on Sundays at the Hollywood Farmers Market in Los Angeles, CA.
Cameron Crotty wears Liberty London sweater, Adidas skirt and Converse Chuck 70 De Luxe Heel High Top sneakers.

Cameron Crotty wears Liberty London sweater, Adidas skirt and Converse Chuck 70 De Luxe Heel High Top sneakers.

Audrea Wah wears thrifted dress and top, customized by herself, pants from Santee Alley and Fumsup Silver necklace.

Audrea Wah wears thrifted dress and top, customized by herself, pants from Santee Alley and Fumsup Silver necklace.

Detail of mandarin oranges and Audrea Wah's hands.
Paige McGowan wears a Hiroko Hata skirt, vintage shirt and vintage tote.

Paige McGowan wears a Hiroko Hata skirt, vintage shirt and vintage tote.

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Detail of Paige McGowan's vintage shirt and vintage tote.

Detail of Paige McGowan’s vintage tote.

Samantha Klein with Variety Hour petal bag and Miu Miu loafers.

Samantha Klein with Variety Hour petal bag and Miu Miu loafers.

Samantha Klein in vintage and Variety Hour petal bag, and Aaron Klein in vintage and Big Bud Press stripe bag.

Samantha Klein in vintage and Variety Hour petal bag, and Aaron Klein, right, in vintage and Big Bud Press stripe bag.

Quincy Vadan wears his personal jewelry designs, under the brand Vadan.

Quincy Vadan wears his personal jewelry designs, under the brand Vadan.

Quincy Vadan wears his personal jewelry designs, under the brand Vadan.
Austin wears a hat, polo top, shorts & sneakers. Carlos wears a top, shorts, boots and Balenciaga x Erewhon bag.

At left, Austin Bachlor wears a Bellagio souvenir hat, and polo top, shorts and sneakers from ERL. At right, Carlos Bachlor wears vintage top from The Dig, shorts and boots from ERL and Balenciaga x Erewhon bag.

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Austin Bachlor wears a Bellagio hat, and polo top, shorts and sneakers. Carlos Bachlor wears vintage top, shorts and boots.
Dijah Malone and Kush.
Dijah Malone
Kush
Ace King in Adidas at the Hollywood Farmers Market in Los Angeles, CA.
Street-style fashion on Sundays at the Hollywood Farmers Market in Los Angeles, CA. Ace King in Adidas
Street-style fashion on Sundays at the Hollywood Farmers Market.
Pups Oliver and Koko wear a sunny yellow bucket hat.

Pups Oliver and Koko wear a sunny yellow bucket hat.

Steven Pardo carries an Enorme bag.

Steven Pardo carries an Enorme bag.

Anastasiia Yermak in mirrored sunglasses.

Anastasiia Yermak in mirrored sunglasses.

Marina Mizruh
Street-style fashion on Sundays at the Hollywood Farmers Market in Los Angeles, CA.
Street-style fashion by Ennis Kamcili at the Hollywood Farmers Market in Los Angeles, CA.
Street-style fashion on Sundays at the Hollywood Farmers Market in Los Angeles, CA with Nancy Silverton.
Buckets of flowers at the Hollywood Farmers Market in Los Angeles, CA.
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Harrison Ford isn’t retiring: ‘I really wouldn’t know what to do with myself’

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Harrison Ford isn’t retiring: ‘I really wouldn’t know what to do with myself’

“I’m happy to be the age I am, and have no impulse to hide it,” says Harrison Ford. He’s shown above accepting the Screen Actors Guild Life Achievement Award in Los Angeles on March 1.

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Valerie Macon/AFP via Getty Images

After playing some of the most recognizable and beloved characters in cinematic history, Harrison Ford is not interested in retiring. “Without my work, I really wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” the 83-year-old actor says. “I really do love the work. … It constantly changes, and the people change, and the mission and the opportunity change, and it just makes for an interesting way to live your life.”

Ford initially struggled to find his footing in Hollywood. He worked on-and-off as a carpenter for years before landing the breakthrough role of Han Solo in the original Star Wars film. He went on to star in the Star Wars sequels, as well as the Indiana Jones movies and Blade Runner — all the while frequently performing his own action scenes.

“I don’t want to have to hide the face of the character because it’s a stunt guy,” he says. “I want [the audience] to feel the blow. I want them to see the anxiety. I want them to be there when the decision is made or when the decision is missed. I just want them to be there.”

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In the current Apple TV series, Shrinking, Ford plays a therapist named Paul who’s been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. Thus far, he says, the show’s writers haven’t shared with him the progression of Paul’s disease. Instead, he says, “Like a true Parkinson’s patient, I don’t really know what’s coming. … I’m sort of living with the symptoms I have been last described as having.”

Recently, Ford teared up while accepting a recognition for lifetime achievement at the Actor Awards. “That speech that I wrote was not crafted to be emotional; it just happened to me,” he says. “I feel slightly embarrassed by it, because I have enough experience with these things to want to be able to manage not to be overcome.”

Interview highlights 

On being asked to help in Star Wars auditions while on a carpentry job at Francis Ford Coppola‘s office

I was there sweeping up. I was just finishing the job when George Lucas walked in [who Ford knew from appearing in Lucas’ last film, American Graffiti] … and I’m standing there in my carpenter’s work belt, sweeping up the floor. It turned out to be a fortuitous occasion, because weeks later I would end up being asked if I would do them a favor and read with the other actors who were being considered for the parts. … I never was told that I was ever to be considered, and then at the end of the process, I guess they ended up with two groups of three people that were in final consideration. I’ve always been amused that in the second group, the character of Han Solo would have been played by Chris Walken. I would have loved to see that.

On his most famous ad-lib in a film

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[It’s] the line in Star Wars where Princess Leia tells me that she loves me and I say, “I know,” instead of saying “I love you too,” which is the scripted line. Simply the impulse was to be more in character. And George Lucas, who had written the line, was not so happy that I didn’t give him the original version. But I really felt strongly about it. So he made me sit next to him when he previewed the film in a public movie theater in San Francisco and it got … a good laugh. And so he accepted it and left it in.

On seeing Star Wars for the first time on screen

I was blown away. I mean, I was really shocked by the power of the film. We shot in England and our English crew were not used to something like Star Wars, and so they were pretty sure that it was going to be a disaster. And we weren’t far from that opinion, ourselves, the actors.

On performing an emergency landing while flying solo in a vintage World War II airplane

Let’s just start by saying that it was a mechanical failure. … It was a 74-year-old airplane, and I was 74 years old at the time. .. Four hundred feet in the air above the airport, the engine quit. And it’s my home airport, and I was familiar with the surrounding terrain, which is cluttered with houses, wires and cars, and people. So I turned to a golf course that was there. …

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In my ear was the very clear voice of one of my aviation mentors who always, when talking about mechanical failures or other kinds of failures, the advice was to “fly the airplane as far into the crash as possible.” You think about this thing when you’re a pilot, you think about the potential, the possibility of it happening, and of course you train. So when it happened, it was not really a surprise, and I thought I knew what I had to do to handle it, so I just started doing the things that needed to be done. … I don’t remember actually being scared. [My injuries] were more than described in the newspaper, but I’m over them all, thank you. I got my license back and continue to fly. … I am not a thrill seeker. I am a very conservative pilot. It’s not that I do crazy stuff for the fun of it.

On objecting to the Vietnam War draft 

I was facing being drafted and I hired a lawyer to represent me to the draft board. I had to explain why I might qualify as a conscientious objector. I explained that I did not have a history of religious affiliation. My mother was Jewish, my father Catholic. … I was raised Democrat. I’m quite happy to accept other people’s versions of God, but I found in a Protestant theologian named Paul Tillich, a sentence that said: If you have trouble with the word God, take whatever is central and most meaningful to your life and call that God.

And to me that was life itself, the complexity, the biodiversity, the incredible integration and complexity of nature, to me seemed to be the same thing as God. And so I prepared an explanation that was probably so unusual that it found the edge of a desk and had a lot of things piled on top of it because it didn’t fit a niche. They never got back to me, basically. The draft board never got back to me.

Lauren Krenzel and Nico Gonzalez Wisler produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper and Beth Novey adapted it for the web.

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His portrait of MLK in a hoodie went viral. Now he shares a message in his Downtown Disney art

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His portrait of MLK in a hoodie went viral. Now he shares a message in his Downtown Disney art

There’s a hidden door in Downtown Disney. Only this one isn’t meant to be walked through.

Flanking a stage near the monorail station, you’ll find a glistening white tower, the work of artist and activist Nikkolas Smith, who has adopted the term “artivist.” At first glance, the tower — one of Downtown Disney’s most striking works — appears to be a nod to Disneyland’s Midcentury art, for its curved lines and space-age optimism wouldn’t be out of place in Tomorrowland.

That’s there, says Smith, but there are also a number of more subtle inspirations.

The tower is a nod to five Black architects, trailblazers whose creations sometimes went unnoticed or overlooked. And that’s why at the base of the structure is a looping opening meant to signify a half-open doorway.

Downtown Disney’s Legacy Tower touches on the styles of different Black architects as it rises into the sky.

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(Gary Coronado / For The Times)

Smith shares a distressing anecdote. “They had to learn how to read drawings upside down, because they weren’t allowed to sit next to the white clients,” Smith says, adding they also had to endure unequal pay. “So I was incorporating things like the half doorway to symbolize their struggle.”

Officially designated as the Legacy Tower, Smith himself fixates on that word — “legacy.” The term, he says, represents a thematic constant across his work. A regular collaborator on a number of Walt Disney Co. projects and a former architect with Walt Disney Imagineering, the division of the company focused on theme park experiences, Smith is something of a connector. His canvas art, full of fast-moving brush work, is often rooted in the past while urgently seeking to draw links to the present.

A portrait of Martin Luther King Jr. in a hoodie.

Artist Nikkolas Smith went viral for his portrait of Martin Luther King Jr. in a hoodie, a tribute to slain teenager Trayvon Martin.

(Nikkolas Smith)

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His 2025 children’s book, “The History of We,” tells the story of how humanity can trace its roots to Africa. And one of his best-known pieces is of Martin Luther King Jr. in a hoodie, meant to evoke the image of Trayvon Martin, the slain 17-year-old whose death inspired a social justice movement. The work went viral in 2013 while Smith was still working for Imagineering. It altered his career trajectory.

“It was like, ‘I cannot just make art about churros and rides right now,’” Smith says. “There’s a time for that, and there’s also a time to talk about this.” He references his portraits related to the killings of Black men, many at the hands of police officers, such as Philando Castile and Michael Brown.

“At the end of the day, Disney understood that,” Smith adds. “They understood that I needed to make art that was extremely important at the moment, about justice or the lack of justice.”

Smith left Disney in 2019 after 11 years but has maintained a close relationship with the company, so much so that Imagineering called upon Smith to design the tower, which opened in 2023.

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Three people chat in front of an earth-toned tower.

Artist Nikkolas Smith, left, chats with guests Ricky Yost and Martina Yost of Aubrey, Texas, who recognized Smith from a recent Disney cruise excursion.

(Gary Coronado / For The Times)

As the Legacy Tower spirals toward the sky, its patterns and and lattice work nod to the likes of James H. Garrott, Robert A. Kennard, Roy A. Sealey, Ralph A. Vaughn and Paul Revere Williams. All were active in Los Angeles — Williams, for instance, was a pivotal designer on the LAX Theme Building — and Smith interlaces decorative flourishes in varying styles that twist around one another to work up the Legacy Tower’s pointed spheres.

The door of the Legacy Tower symbolizes perseverance, Smith says. “They made it through, despite all of the obstacles they had to go through.”

Smith had studied the architects while a student at Hampton University, and has documented on his Instagram their various stylings, which range from restrained to whimsical to ornate. A section referencing Vaughn is modern minimalism, whereas an area dedicated to Sealey is full of jagged, pointed linework. All of it is held together via a coiling design that feels full of movement.

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Legacy Tower patterns and lattice spirals toward the sky.

The patterns of the Legacy Tower are nods to the likes of James H. Garrott, Robert A. Kennard, Roy A. Sealey, Ralph A. Vaughn and Paul Revere Williams.

(Gary Coronado / For The Times)

“How can I show humanity’s interconnected future? That’s the idea,” Smith says. “There’s this African theme of Sankofa. If we look toward our future, we have to look at the past and value and appreciate the past. I thought it would be great if I could really commemorate some Black designers and architects as the foundation and backstory of the tower. And I was also thinking about these breezeway block patterns that you see in Leimert Park.”

And yet it also feels like something that belongs in the park. Smith says he looked at some Tomorrowland designs.

“A Midcentury Modern vibe was Walt,” Smith says, referring to park patriarch Walt Disney. “That was Walt’s thing. It all connects. I love that people can hopefully now connect both things. You can connect Tomorrowland and Walt with Paul Revere Williams.”

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It’s clearly Smith’s favorite design of his for Disney, although it’s not the only space at the resort that features his artistry. During his decade-plus with Imagineering he regularly worked on teams that focused on projects at Disney California Adventure, which this year is celebrating its 25th anniversary. He was heavily involved, he says, in the evolution of Avengers Campus, contributed to a small promenade stage in Pixar Pier and helped envision the facade of Guardians of the Galaxy — Mission: Breakout!, which transformed the former Tower of Terror into a sci-fi structure.

Nikkolas Smith says elements of Downtown Disney's Legacy Tower symbolize perseverance.

Nikkolas Smith says elements of Downtown Disney’s Legacy Tower symbolize perseverance.

(Gary Coronado / For The Times)

Smith looks back fondly at his years at Imagineering, specifically calling out his time on the Guardians project. The former fake hotel is now full of glistening bronze pipes, a retro futurist look that former Imagineer Joe Rohde, who led the design, has said takes influence from the high-tech aesthetic of architect Renzo Piano, who worked on France’s Pompidou Centre.

“How much can we add to it? How much can we get away with gluing onto this thing?” Smith says of the Guardians facade. “What is the right amount of ‘Guardians of the Galaxy,’ without being too much? Without scaring people on the freeway?”

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Today, Smith continues to focus on social justice work, and has also collaborated with filmmaker Ryan Coogler, such as completing concept designs for his Oscar-nominated film “Sinners.” Smith’s 2023 children’s book “The Artivist” documents the importance of creating art that’s in conversation with the world, believing it’s not only a source for education but for empathy. Smith’s weekly paintings speak out often against the current administration, and Smith has been particularly vocal on the ICE raids.

A painting of a city street with lightly political art demanding clean food and water on the buildings.

A selection from “The Artivist,” an illustrated book from Nikkolas Smith.

(Nikkolas Smith)

“Some people say that all art is activism, but I feel that some of the best art that is created is art that has a message,” Smith says. “And hopefully that message has to do with the humanity of all people, and for me, I like to focus on marginalized communities, and how we can value the humanity of everybody. That’s why I make picture books about the origins of humanity and the origins of this country.”

The Leimert Park resident says his wife and young son regularly visit the Disneyland Resort. And when he does, Smith says, he always takes a moment to stop by the Pixar Pier stage that he contributed to, which is often used for character meet and greets.

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“They were team projects, and I do go up to them with so much pride,” he says. “I go up to the Pixar Pier promenade stage, and I just go up to it and touch it. … The beautiful thing about Disney is these creations are usually around for a lifetime.”

It turns out you can take the artivist out of Disney, but you can’t fully take the Disney out of the artivist.

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