Self-taught visual artist Harold Caudio is redefining the boundaries of creativity with his latest exhibit, “Colored Collextion.”
The Haitian American artist moves beyond traditional mediums, transforming everyday materials like Skittles, coffee beans and yarn into portraits and installations that celebrate Black excellence in a vibrant, unforgettable way. By working with items familiar to daily life, Caudio invites audiences to engage with art from fresh perspectives. His installations strip away the pretentiousness often tied to fine art and challenge conventional standards.
Caudio first gained national attention with his groundbreaking piece “JUSTUS”, inspired by Trayvon Martin. His intentional use of Skittles connected the unjust details of Martin’s death to the atmosphere of his artwork, underscoring his commitment to themes of resilience, unity and identity while establishing his signature use of unconventional materials. Since then, his work has been featured in collaborations with Sony, American Express, Marriott and more.
Dedicated to sparking dialogue and creating impact, Caudio continues this vision with “Colored Collextion,” which features mosaic-like Skittles portraits of icons including Michael Jackson, Michelle Obama and Bob Marley.
Blavity spoke with Caudio about his innovative approach to art and how his latest exhibit, “Colored Collextion”, is more than just creative expression.
Blavity: What inspired you to move beyond traditional paints and brushes to using unconventional items, such as Skittles, coffee beans, and yarn, to create your portraits and installations?
Harold Caudio: Skittles gave my talent definition because they were tied to Trayvon Martin’s story, a tragedy that changed how I saw art. I needed people to see that Black men were not monsters but the sweet force that shapes culture, adds flavor and color to the world. Candy, coffee beans, and yarn aren’t random. They are part of daily life, overlooked, consumed and discarded. I give them permanence. I turn the ordinary into vessels for extraordinary stories. My work was never meant to hang on a wall. It was meant to heal, to challenge and to prove that beauty can rise from unexpected places.
Your work celebrates imperfection and unpredictability. How does this, combined with the nontraditional mediums you use, influence the way you see your finished pieces?
HC: Imperfection is the point. Life isn’t polished, and neither is the entrepreneurial journey I represent through my art. Every misplaced Skittle, every uneven edge of glitter or yarn, mirrors the unpredictability of chasing dreams. My art is alive. It shifts, cracks, melts and transforms; that fragility is powerful because it forces viewers to see the humanity within the work. I don’t see flaws as mistakes. I see them as fingerprints of authenticity, proof that resilience is always messy, but still beautiful.
Is there a symbolic meaning behind your choices, like what Skittles or coffee might represent, or is it all about your thought process and boundaries you want to push?
HC: Every material carries meaning. Skittles are hard on the surface but speak to unity, color, and the sweet impact that people of color have. The piece I created for American Express was created using coffee beans to honor resilience, endurance, and community. My use of yarn is inspired by strong women like my mother, Ariane Simone, Oprah, characters like the Madeas in our lives, my team, and my sisters. It symbolizes the beauty of women and the threads that bind us. These materials allow me to push boundaries while preserving their symbolism intact. I’m not just making portraits. I’m embedding stories, struggles, and triumphs into every medium I choose.
Is there a medium, item or texture you haven’t worked with that you are curious about or excited to experiment with?
HC: I’m always searching for the next texture that can carry meaning. I’m drawn to objects tied to stories within culture and community, nostalgic things people see every day but never associate with fine art. Right now, I’m curious about working with water, gemstones, or even materials from our planet—something raw and unrefined, something that grounds us back to the earth. The goal isn’t novelty; it’s to find mediums that tell truths people can feel with their eyes.
Your installation, “Colored Collextion” pays tribute to figures such as Michelle Obama, Coco Gauff, and Bob Marley. How do you choose which icons to honor in your portraits? And what was the process of selecting what medium you would use for them?
HC: I honor figures who embody resilience, representation, and transformation. Michelle Obama represents grace, class and power. Coco Gauff represents what I’d like to see the new generation of young black girls doing, gracefully breaking barriers. Bob Marley represents spirit and liberation. The medium becomes the story. For Coco, I used crystalized glitter as a symbol of her bright and colorful impact as a young star amidst dark times. For Bob Marley, the skittles symbolize the sweet impact of music, culture, and identity. I don’t just choose icons, I choose legacies, and then I find the medium that best carries their truths.
What conversations around Black excellence and representation are you hoping viewers walk away with after experiencing your work? Especially with it being so different?
HC: I want people to see that Black excellence is not one-dimensional. It’s not just the polished result, it’s the grind, the struggle, the improvisation and the risk of trying something new. My work says, “We are more than the surface, we are sweet, colorful, complex, and resilient.” Representation isn’t about fitting into someone else’s mold of excellence. It’s about redefining what it looks like to thrive and daring to show the process in all its raw imperfection.
Do you view your collection as a form of cultural archiving and preservation of legacies through nontraditional methods?
HC: Absolutely. My work is a living archive. Candy, glitter, and yarn are not fragile gimmicks. They are deliberate methods of preservation. By immortalizing icons and cultural moments with unconventional materials, I’m saying, our legacies deserve to be remembered differently, boldly, and unapologetically. Museums may preserve oil and marble. I preserve color, texture, and spirit. It’s archiving, but through the lens of innovation.
You describe your practice as one that creates “without limits.” Do you feel a responsibility to redefine what “fine art” can include in the mainstream art world?
HC: Yes, without question. Fine art has long been defined by “gatekeepers” who decided what materials, what stories, and what communities were worthy. By creating with nontraditional mediums, I’m actively dismantling those boundaries. I don’t just feel a responsibility, I embrace it. Redefining fine art means demonstrating that truth can manifest in any form, and that the most powerful work often defies convention.
Do you feel that Black artists have been given or awarded the opportunities to create outside of the bounds of what is considered traditional art? Or is that still a work in progress?
HC: It’s still a work in progress. Black artists have always innovated; we’ve always created outside the box, but recognition lags. Too often, the mainstream wants our culture without giving us ownership. My practice insists that we don’t wait for permission. We create anyway, boldly and unapologetically, and force the conversation to shift. Opportunities are not handed to us, so we must create them for ourselves.
How do you hope your work inspires younger or overlooked artists to pursue self-taught, experimental paths?
HC: I want my work to be a mirror for anyone who feels invisible. I started without formal training, and I built my vision piece by piece, material by material. That journey is proof that possibility exists outside traditional doors. When I started working with candy, people laughed and thought it was cute. But I kept building, now my work lives in museums and studios, and has become part of global conversations. I want overlooked artists to know that the thing that makes them different is the very thing that makes them iconic. I hope young and overlooked artists see that their daily lives hold enough to inspire them to begin. A bag of Skittles from the store became a monument in my hands. Whatever they hold, fabric, food, found objects, memories, can become their canvas. My message is simple: don’t wait for validation. Start where you are, use what you have and trust your vision. You are the permission you’ve been waiting for. If they can take my story and see that possibility in themselves, then I’ve done my job.