The Higher I Rise, the Deeper I Must Stay Rooted

"On recognition, proximity to power, and why community must remain at the centre of the work."

There is a particular temptation that comes with recognition. The invitations begin to increase. The rooms become bigger. The names around the table become more familiar. Your work begins to travel beyond the places where it started. Fellowships, exhibitions, panels, institutions and international networks begin to affirm something you have been building quietly for years.

It is easy to mistake all of this for power. Just recently, I read an amazing article titled “Why Proximity to Power Is Not Power at All” by Yasmina, and this one line stayed with me:

“Access is not influence, a seat at the table is not a vote, and being in the room where it happens does not mean you are part of what is happening.”

That distinction made me reflect deeply on my own journey. Over the years, I have been fortunate to enter spaces and communities I once could only imagine. I have participated in fellowships, exhibitions, residencies, leadership programmes and international conversations. My work has taken me across countries and into conversations at the intersection of art, culture, community and brain health.

I am grateful for every one of those opportunities. But I am also increasingly convinced that recognition should never become the destination. It should become a responsibility. The rooms are useful. But they are not home. I have learned that there is value in being invited into important rooms. Those rooms can provide knowledge, relationships, resources, new perspectives and opportunities to influence conversations. They can expose us to people who are doing extraordinary work and help us imagine possibilities beyond our immediate surroundings.

But there is a danger when we begin to measure our worth by how close we are to those rooms.

• A badge does not automatically create impact.

• A fellowship does not automatically create transformation.

• An exhibition does not automatically create community.

• A panel invitation does not automatically mean that our voice has changed a decision.

• Recognition can open a door. But what we do after walking through that door matters much more.

For me, the question is increasingly becoming:

• What am I carrying back with me?

• What knowledge can I share?

• What opportunities can I create?

• Who else can I introduce?

• Whose voice can I amplify?

• What resources can find their way back into communities?

And perhaps most importantly:

Does my growing visibility make me more useful to the people and communities from which my work comes?

Community was there before the recognition and long before international recognition, there was community. There were young people learning, experimenting and trying to find their creative voices. There were artists who needed encouragement, mentorship and a place to belong. There were elders carrying memories, stories and knowledge that deserve to be seen and heard. There were communities whose culture and lived experiences could not be fully understood from a distance.

This is where much of my work has found its meaning.

When I founded Kiggundu Art Studio in 2021, it was not simply about creating a physical place to make art. It became a space for mentorship, experimentation, learning, collaboration and community engagement. Over time, the studio has accompanied more than 30 artists and students directly and indirectly, while welcoming hundreds of people into the space. 

My mural practice has similarly taught me that public art becomes more meaningful when it listens to the environment in which it exists, its people, stories, beliefs, memories and aspirations. 

These experiences remind me that the community is not an audience for my work. They prove to me everyday that community is part of the work and recognition should widen the circle. I do not believe we should reject recognition also because recognition matters. It can provide access to resources. It can validate years of difficult work. It can create platforms that would otherwise be unavailable. It can help people discover ideas and people they might never have encountered. But I believe recognition becomes meaningful when it is used to widen the circle.

If I am invited into a room that someone else cannot enter, I should ask myself whether I can carry something useful back out of that room.

If I am given a platform, I should ask whose voice can be amplified through it.

If I gain knowledge, I should ask who else can benefit from it.

If I receive resources, I should ask how those resources can strengthen something beyond myself.

This is particularly important to me because much of my work sits at the intersection of art, culture, health and community.

The Elders Creative Circle project, for example, brings creative arts, social interaction, indigenous knowledge and brain-health awareness together for older people aged 60 and above. My work around Memory Mosaics Initiative similarly seeks to connect creativity, culture and brain-health advocacy in ways that are meaningful to African communities. These initiatives remind me that global conversations only become meaningful when they remain connected to local realities. I don't want to become distant from the people I speak about.

There is another danger that comes with recognition. Sometimes without noticing, we can become better at talking about communities than actually being with them. We learn the language of institutions. We become comfortable discussing frameworks, strategies, programmes, impact and systems. We attend conferences where communities are discussed by people who may never have sat with them.

And slowly, the people themselves can disappear behind the language.

I do not want that for my work. I want to remain close enough to listen. Close enough to be challenged. Close enough to learn. Close enough to be corrected. Close enough to remember that the people we describe in proposals and presentations are not concepts. They are human beings with histories, ambitions, fears, humour, knowledge and agency.

Community work requires humility because it constantly reminds us that we do not have all the answers.

The real measure of impact

As recognition grows, I am becoming less interested in asking:

How many rooms have I entered?

And more interested in asking:

• How many doors have I helped open for others?

• How many young artists have found confidence?

• How many people have discovered that their story matters?

• How many elders have felt seen?

• How many creative practitioners have found someone willing to accompany them?

• How many conversations have moved beyond institutions and into communities?

• How much knowledge has been exchanged?

• How many relationships have been strengthened?

These are harder things to put on a CV.

But perhaps they are closer to what real impact looks like.

Staying grounded is not staying small. I sometimes think we misunderstand what it means to be grounded. Being grounded does not mean refusing to grow. It does not mean rejecting international opportunities. It does not mean pretending recognition does not matter or remaining in the same place forever. For me, being grounded means knowing where I come from, who I am accountable to, and why I started. It means being able to entering an international room without believing that the room has made me more valuable. It means being able to receive recognition without becoming dependent on recognition. It means being able to learn from institutions without allowing institutions to define the limits of my imagination. It means understanding that my work can be global in reach while remaining deeply local in its roots.

"The higher I rise, the deeper I must root"

My hope is that every new opportunity will not take me further away from community, but deeper into my responsibility to it. If the work grows, let the community grow with it. If the platform grows, let the circle of voices grow with it. If the network grows, let more people benefit from that network. If the resources grow, let them create more possibilities. If the recognition grows, let the responsibility grow even faster.

I am learning that there is a difference between being seen and being useful.

Being seen is valuable.

Being useful is transformative.

While the first can bring attention to the work, the second gives the work meaning. So I want to keep entering the rooms when those rooms are useful. I want to learn, collaborate, challenge, listen and contribute. But I also want to keep returning.

Returning to the studio.

Returning to community.

Returning to the artists.

Returning to the elders.

Returning to the stories.

Returning to the questions that started this journey in the first place.

Because proximity to power may open doors. But rootedness gives us somewhere meaningful to stand. And perhaps the greatest responsibility that comes with recognition is not to become more distant from the ground but to use every new platform, every new relationship and every new opportunity to strengthen the ground from which we came.

#Artisticgrowth #Recognition #Impact #SocialEnterpreneurship #Community #Artpractice