In a bold move to bridge cultural gaps in contemporary art, upstate New York’s Lite Brite Neon Studio has partnered with the Walker Youngbird Foundation to launch Native Neon, a residency program empowering Indigenous artists to explore neon as a medium. This collaboration isn’t just about art—it’s a statement on visibility, innovation, and the unyielding fight for recognition in a world dominated by Western aesthetics. What makes this particularly fascinating is how a studio rooted in the avant-garde—known for its collaborations with figures like Glenn Ligon and Jeffrey Gibson—now champions Indigenous voices, turning neon from a niche art form into a tool for cultural reclamation.
The residency, set to begin in September, will spotlight Sarah Rowe, an enrolled Ponca Tribe member and Lakota descendant, who will receive $50,000 in stipend and a week-long stay. Her work, which blends drawing, painting, and installation, centers on light, scale, and the mythic trickster figure (heyoka) of Lakota tradition. Rowe’s proposal to create an immersive space where neon becomes a “liminal” force—bordering on the surreal—reflects a deeper tension: how can art challenge perceptions of reality? ‘The ignorance of a process is somewhat of a superpower,’ she says, implying that not knowing the technicalities can free artists to focus on meaning over mechanics.
This initiative isn’t isolated. Neon, a material once reserved for high-tech spectacle, has long been a barrier to entry due to its complexity and cost. Lite Brite Neon, founded in 1999 in Brooklyn, moved its operations to upstate New York in 2017, aiming to democratize access. Reid Walker, founder of the Walker Youngbird Foundation, notes that Indigenous artists often face systemic exclusion. ‘You need someone in these rooms to help move the ball forward,’ he argues, highlighting the gap between artistic potential and institutional support. The foundation’s partnership with Lite Brite began when it acquired Marie Watt’s ‘Shared Horizon’ (2024), a neon piece fabricated at the studio, which underscored Rowe’s unique ability to blend interdisciplinary practice with Indigenous narrative.
Rowe’s work, such as her 2025-26 solo exhibition Water Ledger at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, interrogates ecological and cultural histories through water imagery. Her mural Starseeds (2023) in Omaha transforms grain silos into a visual hymn to Indigenous resilience, echoing the studio’s ethos of transforming space into storytelling. The residency’s theme—challenging perception through color—mirrors the heyoka’s role as a trickster, a figure who subverts norms. By framing neon as a medium for cultural critique, the program seeks to rewrite the canon of modern art, ensuring that Indigenous voices aren’t just present but transformative.
What many people don’t realize is that neon’s allure lies in its duality: a dazzling spectacle and a tool for resistance. The studio’s approach mirrors broader movements in the arts, where marginalized communities are redefining what’s possible. As Rowe puts it, ‘We’re talking about a design idea or a creature that could be transformed into light.’ This residency isn’t just about creating art; it’s about reimagining the relationship between culture, technology, and identity. In a world where art often reflects power dynamics, Native Neon challenges the status quo, proving that innovation thrives when tradition meets rebellion. The question remains: Will this model inspire more collaborations, or will it become a beacon for others seeking to disrupt the status quo?
