Ryan Calloway: Master of Music, Art, and Dance

Hal Smith: Ryan, you can be contacted for original artwork, graphic design, swing dance instruction, to lead a band and to perform as a sideman. That is an impressive list of talent for one individual! Which one of those skills did you pursue first?

Ryan Calloway: Thank you, Hal! I’m generally a curious person which can be a double-edged sword, but ultimately I prefer it that way—I’m never bored. Art was my first love and everything comes back to drawing for me. I was taught to draw as early as I can remember by my mother. I picked up some design and digital chops putzing around my dad’s advertising studio in my teens and studied 3D computer graphics at a trade school in Hollywood when I was about 21. That led to a career in film working on projects such as Star Wars, Transformers, Rango, World of Warcraft, and a bunch more.

HS: I had no idea that you worked in the film industry! We need to talk about your artwork, but first: can you describe your contributions to the films you mentioned?

RC: My title was Sr. Digital Artist, which is wonderfully vague. In my case, it meant 3D modeling, texturing (painting), and designing all sorts of things—creatures, robots, spaceships, props, landscapes, and so on. I led with “creatures” because, let’s face it, they sound the coolest. They were also my main focus and what I enjoyed most, with robots as a close second.

If you’ve seen the movie Rango (even if you haven’t), I built and painted (digitally, of course) the mariachi owls that narrated the film, along with various background characters, sets, and props. I also painted some Transformers for a few of those films and worked on Pacific Rim, painting the giant robot Gipsy Danger and the main villain, Slattern, a giant monster. For robots, the job is adding things like paint chips, rivets, rust, oil drips, decals, and whatever other visual elements make it look realistic. For creatures the job entails sculpting fine details like scars, skin wrinkles and textures, and painting patterns and colors. Both involve rigorous study and interpretation of nature which is a fascinating and rewarding process in and of itself.

On the technical side, I was heavily involved in developing proprietary tools, which satisfied my technical and logical inclinations. I also spent several months at Industrial Light & Magic’s Singapore branch, training local and regional artists—an adventure in itself.

All in all, it was a dream gig, one I’d envisioned since I was about 18. But after a while, the 9-to-5 routine, especially at a big company, started to wear on me and I found myself perpetually wanting to be working on my own art, music, or dance rather than churning out assets for films, creative as it was. That said, I learned a ton about the craft and had the privilege of working alongside some of the best in the business—an experience I’ll always cherish. I enjoy working with people who are the best at what they do. wink wink

HS: Wow! I will have to re-watch Rango now that I know about your creations!

You are also an accomplished illustrator. I have seen your artwork on posters, album jackets, t-shirts, tote bags…even bass drum heads! What stimulated your interest in drawing?

RC: That’s right, my art gets around! I’ve been drawing ever since I can remember and it’s a love of mine that runs deep. I grew up in a creative household, so that helps. One thing I love about drawing is that it has trained me to be able to look at things objectively. That’s reinforced my ability to create visually, think creatively, and communicate effectively. Perception is fascinating to me and an important part of navigating the complex world we live in. I’ve always loved illusions like the drawing of the old woman (or young woman, depending on how you choose to view it). There are also principles of drawing which directly apply to many areas of life, and especially other art forms. For example, contrast, composition, rhythm, and line (to name a few) are not only important for visual art, but dancing and music as well.

HS: Your style is definitely unique. But are there any specific artists who influenced you? I ask because our friend Kris Tokarski told me that your artwork reminded him of David Stone Martin’s drawings of jazz musicians.

RC: So. Many. Influences. I consider my ability to be inspired or sparked into creative action a superpower of mine. David Stone Martin’s work has influenced my commercial work, for sure, though I’ve never done a deep dive into his oeuvre; maybe I should. I love his use of line and exaggerated shapes. And of course, his subject matter resonates with me. The inspirations are too many to name, but here are some of the most meaningful ones: Egon Schiele for his boldness and use of line—his expressive treatment of hands is particularly inspiring, Gustav Klimt for his palette and rich colors, John Singer Sargent’s mastery of form, Albrecht Dürer’s rendering form with line, Rembrandt’s edges, René Magritte for his clever use of space and illusion, Éduoard Manet for the thick sculptural brush strokes…okay, I need to stop myself. I’m also inspired by my contemporaries with whom I’m connected in real life or on social media. Many times I’ve found myself on Instagram and come across someone’s art that stopped me in my (doom scrolling) tracks. I’ll launch to my desk to play with an idea or technique that I saw and put my own twist on it.

HS: You have some impressive accomplishments in the world of film. What are you proudest of as far as your artwork?

RC: Thanks, Hal, I’m grateful for my career in film and that it’s in the past. Toward the end of my stint in the film industry, I took a one month sabbatical with the intention of having no intention. Staying in San Francisco, I gave myself solitary time to freely explore my own art, music, and dance rather than cranking out assets for the machine.

This was early on in my study of the clarinet and traditional jazz and immersing myself in books, records, and history. All of the sudden I found myself sketching ink portraits of the musicians I was listening to: Bechet, Oliver, Dodds, Bessie Smith, the Humphrey bros, George Lewis, Bunk, to name a few. I’d “rent” books from the [Clint] Baker Library of Jazz and flip through “who’s who of traditional jazz” books, reading about the musicians and drawing photos that caught my eye. It was a great way to learn about the musicians and discover new ones as well.

My need for solitude was trumped only by my need to be seen, so of course, I began posting the portraits on social media. I even took them to the streets where I’d sit on the sidewalk in the Mission district, drawing and flipping jazz portraits to passersby; I suppose this is where my love for busking began. Around that time, I launched a guerilla-style printing shop from my apartment and opened an Etsy storefront. This grassroots approach—sharing on social media, busking, setting up a print shop—led to a major commission a couple years later.

In 2015 a design firm in New Orleans contacted me about decorating the constructed University Medical Center on Canal St. They commissioned 50 custom portraits of New Orleans musicians and gave me a ton of freedom so I had a lot of fun. The collection—which is on permanent display—includes greats from the past as well as notable contemporary musicians like Banu Gibson, Wynton Marsalis, Don Vappie, Meschiya Lake, and so on.

That commission, along with my broader body of jazz portraits, stands out as one of my most meaningful accomplishments—not just for the scale of the project, but for how it brought together my love of jazz and art in a way that resonated with a broader audience.

HS: You should be proud of that commission. They definitely contacted the right person! I think almost everyone who either listens to or plays jazz can see the connection between art (paintings, sketches), the music itself and dance. And you are living proof that they don’t have to be separate activities!

Let’s talk about your involvement with jazz as a musician. You mentioned some of the pioneers like Bechet and Dodds who were influences. Which other reed players have inspired you? Did you get to hear any of the West Coast stylists like Bob Helm or Tom Sharpsteen in person?

RC: Absolutely! One of my earliest influences was Tom Sharpsteen and I still get down with the Purple Quartet and El Dorado recordings with Tom on them (Mike Baird is fantastic too). Alongside my deep dive into George Lewis, I was introduced to Tom’s playing by Clint Baker and studied it intensely. Sadly, I never met Tom—he passed before I took up the clarinet—though I’m intimately familiar with his playing and have heard many stories from mentors like yourself and Clint. One of the things that attracts me to his playing the most is his sense of individualism. I know Tom’s playing as soon as I hear it. Tom used New Orleans jazz as a foundation upon which he built a beautiful and one-of-a-kind point of view. His style was irreverent and weird yet always grounded, never veering into abstraction.

Bob Helm has been a favorite of mine too. Not only do I love his raucous and buoyant solos, but his singing has also influenced me. That raw, unamplified barroom singing style—where you have to reach the back of the room with nothing but your voice—always fires me up! Like his playing, there’s an immediacy and an honesty to it. Helm was a masterful ensemble player which is paramount in New Orleans jazz and I’ve learned a lot from his counterpoint and harmony playing and his ability to be just what’s needed at any given moment in a band. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him play the same thing twice. His sound—whether you call it timbre, tone, or character—is instantly recognizable, much like Sharpsteen’s. Like Tom, Helm’s playing has inspired me to develop my own voice, thrive in a trumpet-less frontline, and leave it all on the stage.

HS: You can’t go wrong playing traditional jazz with Sharpsteen and Helm in mind!

You play reeds with several different groups in the Bay Area—and I understand you are playing banjo on some gigs as well). In addition to working as a sideman, you lead the Silver Bell Jazz Band. Can you tell us how the band got together? I’m sure the readers would also be interested to know the type of the music you play. (And … I have a feeling that “Silver Bell” has nothing to do with Percy Wenrich’s 1910 composition. Is that correct?

RC: That’s right, Hal! Silver Bell is not a reference to the tune. The name actually comes from my clarinet—I occasionally play with my old curved silver bell on my Albert-system horns. It’s also an homage to Alphonse Picou and Tom Sharpsteen, both of whom played with the ever-rare and confounding “saxonette” bell..

I formed the Silver Bell Jazz Band in 2016, a few years after starting The Hot Baked Goods, a band made up mostly of newer musicians (myself included) from the Lindy Hop scene. With Silver Bell, I wanted to branch into different styles of early jazz while having more autonomy over creative decisions, hiring, and logistics. Unlike The Hot Baked Goods, which operated democratically, Silver Bell let me move quickly and shape the music to my vision.

Initially, the band was a way to explore earlier jazz styles, especially from the 1920s. We’ve recorded two albums—the first with James McClaskey on tenor guitar/banjo and vocals, and the second, Call of the Freaks (a nod to the Luis Russell tune), recorded live at San Francisco’s Bootleggers Ball. Since living in St. Louis (2019–2022), I’ve been getting deeper into ragtime as well. I learned a lot about the style out there and am fortunate to play regularly with two of my favorite ragtime musicians, Virginia Tichenor and Marty Eggers. At this point, Silver Bell is more of an adaptable outfit—designed to provide work for the musicians I employ while preserving the integrity of the music. While eclectic to some extent, the band is still firmly rooted in ragtime and early jazz.

I’ve also been expanding my own musical toolkit. A few years ago, I picked up the banjo—partly because it seemed interesting, but also as a practical way to diversify my skill set. I struggle to get ample work as a clarinetist in the Bay Area, and I figured learning a rhythm section instrument would open more doors. I do get hired on it regularly—though, to be fair, I’m usually the one doing the hiring. Playing banjo also gives me a better understanding of what it feels like to be in the rhythm section, which has made me a more empathetic bandleader.

Banjo is a surprisingly complex instrument. While it has a reputation for being brash and trashy, it can also be incredibly nuanced and pretty, and I love exploring its range. I love that it’s a chord instrument, too—it means I can accompany myself singing, which makes busking solo a lot more fun. In the Bay Area, I do a lot of duo and trio gigs, like my duo performances with Virginia on piano, where I play banjo, clarinet, alto sax, and sing. I also did a number of gigs last year with Don Neely on reeds, Robert Young on bass sax, and myself on banjo—that was a really fun trio. Though these bands differ in instrumentation and feel, I would still bill them both as the Silver Bell Jazz Band.

Most recently, the bass saxophone has stolen my heart. Digging into bass lines has been both a blast and an education—again, I think I benefit from stepping into different roles within the ensemble. And honestly, I wish I had picked up bass sax years ago. Word to the wise: if T.J. Muller gives you advice, you best take it. He suggested I pick up bass sax when I was living in St. Louis, and I really should have listened to him back then.

At the end of the day, this decision was part practical, part curiosity-driven. I needed more work, bass players are always in demand, but rather than force myself onto an instrument I wasn’t passionate about, I went for something that excites me. I needed a bass instrument that was both practical and exciting, and bass saxophone checked both boxes. It’s not in high demand, especially in the Bay Area, but it fills the bass role and has such a unique sound. I’m rolling the dice, hoping that once people hear more of it, they’ll want more of it.

As it is, about 95% of my work comes from music, mostly from my own gigs with Silver Bell and some with The Hot Baked Goods. That said, adding banjo, bass saxophone, and even tenor saxophone has opened up new doors and opportunities. I’m grateful for the folks in the Bay Area who hire me regularly, such as Dave Ricketts from Gaucho and Heidi Evelyn, and as I continue growing as a musician, I look forward to expanding my network—both in the Bay Area and beyond.

HS: I admire the fact that you have learned to play rhythm instruments as well as reeds. As you said, that will definitely give you a real understanding of how the rhythm section is supposed to work.

Let’s switch subjects now and talk about your feet (!) Last year you were an instructor at the Camp Hollywood swing dance. I’m sure that The Syncopated Times readers would like to know how you came to be involved with the dance community, what kinds of instruction you do and some of the dance events where you have taught.

RC: I first got into Lindy Hop in 2005, when I was briefly enrolled at University of Michigan. New to the school, I was looking for friends to make and trouble to stay out of. A housemate invited me to a weekly swing dance where I was warmly welcomed into the Lindy Hop community. It was my first real experience with dance and I loved how challenging, creative, and social it was—it also scratched my itch for history as I started to dig into the roots of the dance and the music.

About a year later, I moved to Hollywood to attend a small trade school where I mostly focused on studies and occasionally took the bus to Pasadena to social dance at Lindy Groove. I’d taught a little by then, but it wasn’t until I moved to San Francisco and became a regular in the scene that my dancing, and eventually teaching, developed. At that point, I was all in—dancing three or four nights a week, pounding the floor at every local dance I could find. More experienced local instructors started inviting me to teach with them, and that’s where I really learned how to teach dance.

I’d occasionally travel to larger national events but not much, and then my soon-to-be teaching partner, Ann Mony, moved to San Francisco. We started working together regularly—teaching, choreographing, performing, and competing. Ann and I gained some national recognition, which really took off after we presented a somewhat abstract, expressionistic interpretation of Lindy Hop to Jimmy Lunceford’s recording of “Frisco Fog.” That performance really took people by surprise and was a fan favorite, though we came dead last in the competition.

From there, we started traveling regularly—mostly to national events but occasionally overseas. One of my most memorable experiences was a two-month residency in Vienna, where we taught progressive classes locally during the week and traveled to different European cities on weekends to teach workshops. It was great to have such dedicated and focused time to work on teaching and developing our dancing skills and it pushed me as an instructor and an artist.

It was also a hell of an adventure, and at one point I was floating down the Danube River at night, dancing to live jazz on a riverboat in Budapest. On another trip, Ann and I taught in Cape Town, South Africa, as guest instructors. In addition to teaching dance and leading a band, I also worked with local musicians to help them form one of the scene’s first trad jazz and swing bands.

As a dancer, I’ve developed a reputation for individuality and creativity—or maybe just weirdness! I think of Lindy Hop as a conversation—one where all voices should be heard—-much like playing in a traditional jazz ensemble. When I’m leading (a dance), I’m trying to guide versus overpower, because the best dances happen when both partners have a voice.

There’s also communication with the music and musicians—I can’t stress the importance of that relationship enough and am constantly advocating for it. Though as a band leader, I find the relationship with the dancers can be a tricky one to maintain. Sometimes I want to reconcile the needs of the dancers with the needs of the band and other times I’m less concerned with appeasing them and I want to challenge them to adapt to what’s being presented. I digress…

With regard to teaching, my approach emphasizes finding one’s own voice—not just learning steps or the fundamentals. I want students to create like an artist, to experiment, to stumble into happy accidents, and to discover something unique to them. I use a lot of games, tools, and methodologies borrowed from other disciplines, such as visual art, or styles of dance, to help break people’s assumptions and push them outside whatever creative box they might be stuck in.

If you only train in rigid structures, you risk becoming pinned beneath the very techniques you’ve spent so many hours belaboring. Instead freeing you, they can act like shackles and limit your ability to create something truly your own. Technique is important, but serve your voice, not dictate it. I’ve seen many people train themselves into a corner, drilling and drilling until all they can do is draw or dance or play in that one way and any deviation, if even possible, feels unnatural to them. That’s not how I approach art.

It’s funny that you mention Camp Hollywood because it’s a renowned Lindy Hop event yet I’ve only ever taught music there. They have a small music track for amateur musicians and dancers who are curious about how jazz works and for the past couple of years, I’ve been teaching topics like improvisation, jazz ensemble, and basic rhythms and harmonies. It’s been another rewarding challenge that I hope to continue, both there, and elsewhere.

When it comes to developing a deeper understanding of any given skill, I’ve enjoyed using teaching as a means for growth. As soon as you have to explain something, you’re forced to ask yourself why you do things the way you do. That process has always been a great incentive for me to hone both my skill set and my ability to communicate what I’m doing—also, maybe I just like to over-analyze things. There’s tremendous reward in helping people learn, empowering, and inspiring them.

HS: As a bandleader who is also a dancer, you have a tremendous advantage when calling songs and tempos at dance events. And your method of teaching must certainly inspire creativity in your students. With a background in art, music and dance, you are like the sign I saw at a business in New Orleans: “One call does it all!”

What are your goals for utilizing your expertise in these various fields in 2025 and beyond?

RC: Yeah, I try to do all the things that interest me—of which there are many. You could say I’m a master generalist, capable of every(no)thing. I like being a jack of all trades, but it’s an ongoing juggling act, and at times, I struggle to wear so many hats.

There’s a strong chance I’ll be returning to Vienna to teach dance and music, though nothing is set in stone yet. I hope it happens—if it does, I’ll definitely be back pounding the dance floors again this year to prepare! Beyond that, I generally accept dance gigs that interest me, but aside from private lessons, I don’t have any on the roster at the moment.

On the visual art side, I took a step back last year to go full throttle with music. Gigging as much as I want (and need) to is a hustle—it requires a massive amount of coordination, relationship-building, management, and administrative work. I’m hoping AI will start handling 90% of that soon—it’s already written this entire interview! (Kidding, this has been all ChatRC.) While a lot of that work is ongoing, I’ve managed to establish more regular gigs and clients, which helps lighten the load. Hopefully, that means I’ll have more time to get back into painting and design work. That said, I just can’t pick up any new instruments right now… although… guitar? Hmm.

Musically, I’ve got some fun events coming up—at least one festival with you, Redwood Coast Music Festival, Camp Hollywood, and some exciting local projects. Each one will require some woodshedding, which I’m looking forward to, along with my ongoing development on reeds and banjo. I’m especially excited to be playing more bass saxophone and to improve my sight-reading. Reading music fluently is something I’ve never quite nailed, but I’ve managed to grind through it for specific projects. It’s one of those skills that really requires consistent maintenance, and I’m still looking for the right opportunities to build it into my routine.

As for where I call home—for now, I’m feeling confident that I’ll be in the Bay Area, at least in the short term. 2023 was rough, and I wasn’t sure I could stay here while living the lifestyle I want, but 2024 has given me hope that I can have at least some of the things I want here without starving. There are always trade-offs, but this is one of my favorite places in the world. The nature is incredible, and I’m surrounded by so many people in my communities whom I respect, admire, and learn from. I feel awestruck as often by my musical collaborators as I do by the rich landscapes around me. It’s just as important for me to be inspired as it is to try and inspire others.

I’d love to have a studio again where I can spread out and work on visual art, as well as make things with my hands. I love woodworking and building—especially in a home renovation context—so at some point, I’d love to be working on my own place again. That might be more of a long-term goal, but it’s definitely in the back of my mind.

Creatively, this year will be about watering the seeds I’ve planted and leaning into musically rich collaborations with folks I admire. And as I sit here watching my cat—whom I’ve known longer than most people in my life—do things I dare not mention to your readers, I’m reminded that, for one, I need to feed her, and also that I’m grateful for the little things I already have in my life. Thanks for the thoughtful questions and for giving me the space to reflect. I sincerely look forward to our future collaborations together.

HS: I appreciate your being available for this interview. Hopefully a lot of people will check out your website and listen to your music! I am still impressed by your skillful clarinet playing on the album of ragtime we recorded with the New Orleans Night Owls and it is always a great pleasure to play alongside you in the El Dorado Jazz Band. Best of luck to you in all of your endeavors!

For information about the Silver Bell Jazz Band, please visit sbjband.weebly.com and www.instagram.com/silverbelljazzband. Find Ryan Calloway’s artwork at ryancallowayart.com, www.etsy.com/shop/ryancallowayart, and www.instagram.com/ryancallowayart.