Meet Sabrina Dorsainvil: Local Artist Collection

Right now I am a practicing public artist, illustrator, and designer, which means that I spend a lot of time thinking about how to make large-scale paintings and public artworks, while also being able to create these intimate, context-specific pieces for organizations that want to share their story or want to connect to folks in a particular way. That work is super special to me.

I’m also a designer at an organization called Agncy. It’s a nonprofit design firm, and I spend a lot of time there doing strategy work and trying to connect the dots with organizations that are hoping to connect better to the population they serve — navigating systems, lifting up voices and crafting opportunities for the co-creation of initiatives coming out of philanthropies, nonprofits, educational institutions, and beyond.

I was that kid who doodled in front of the TV. I was always drawing — when I was happy, when I was sad. My sketchbook was my go-to place. It was kind of an escape for me as a kid.

I also moved around a lot, so between my sketchbook and my toys, I was constantly creating worlds — building stories and relationships, navigating the day to day needs or conflict between my Jasmine doll and her 8 *NSYNC sons from a happy meal. I had this fascination with people.

I was lucky enough to go to a technical school by accident. As a child of immigrants, there was hesitation around choosing art. But that experience showed me it was possible. I also got to see artists of color in particular working in youth arts programs, teaching and designing, and I thought, ‘Okay, this is totally doable, totally possible.’ It wasn’t imaginary, it was within reach. I had a calling to think about the world, to support a greater good, and I wanted to use my creative muscles to do it.

I know I walk through the world containing multitudes, all of us really, and that reminds me not to flatten my characters in my own mind. There’s so much story behind them that might not be visible at first glance.

Whether it’s invisible disabilities, queerness that I carry, or just different ways of existing, I try to let that diversity come through. It's not just about what people look like. It's also the experiences each character carries. It’s elders, young people with glucose monitors, folks living with adhd or aunties with alopecia — people with a whole world of possibilities.

As a queer person, a person of color, and a non-male identified person, I want my work to make people pause — to wonder, is that person nonbinary? Is that person Black? — and to sit with that in a way that’s curious and celebratory.

This project came at a really fun time. I was reconnecting with my younger self who was super active in sports, I played basketball, volleyball, and ran track, but over time as I stopped playing sports, I lost that magic.

When I got the invitation to work on this project, it felt really special. Soccer was one of those things that a lot of people in my life really loved and felt connected to. But I didn’t grow up playing; I didn’t grow up having the opportunity to connect to it.

So it felt like a really awesome challenge to unlock a whole other world where people are also giving their all, feeling that energy. I wanted to explore what it might mean to celebrate another avenue where women are being badass, and where nonbinary folks are really showing up, showing out, and doing something they love. I wanted to highlight how they share that passion with people in a way that gets us all excited — rooting for them, rooting for ourselves — to not just be great, but to be in collaboration with others.

With the pieces we ended up choosing, we decided to focus on what it looks like for folks to come together toward a common goal. That energy of we are better together. Everyone locked in, focused. And even though the term “relentless” didn’t really come until the end, it feels quite fitting — that passionate, motivated desire to work together, to be great, and honestly, to have fun.

Boston is the people. Always. It might sound cliché, and maybe it’s an obsession in my work, but that’s the truth for me.

I’ve found such a generous, collaborative art community here — especially among women, nonbinary, and queer muralists. When I painted my first mural in 2019, Silvia López Chavez literally handed me a bucket and paint roller and said, “I got you.” I still carry that generosity.

Boston can be complicated. There’s tension and pride, and not everyone feels the same sense of belonging. There are folks who, for good reasons, do not carry that same sense of pride in what Boston might offer. I think it’s important to acknowledge that complexity, too. That’s what makes this city beautiful — we can recognize the past while still looking forward with care and intention.

There’s so much happening here — from art to medicine to education — and none of it succeeds in isolation. Like in sports, individual greatness matters, but the real magic happens when we work together.

The evolution of women’s sports in Boston feels like that same energy: recognizing where we’ve been and pushing forward together to build something better.

For a while, I didn’t even realize how much pride I carried for this place. When I talk about the tension of it — it being such a sports-heavy, energetic city — there are parts that can feel super uncomfortable or like they’re not for me, right? To be from this area, to have been born here, to be a person of color, to be queer, it feels like my perspective is of value. What I want to put out in the world can take up space.

Boston, to me, is a reminder that things aren’t always what they seem. You can’t judge a book by its cover. When you spend time with a place, when you spend time with a person, you see their heart, their energy, the beauty they want to add to the world in whatever way they can.

We’re not a monolith. And I appreciate being able to be seen, not as an anomaly, because there are so many of us, but being witnessed. I appreciate you all seeing me as a creative and appreciating the space I hold in this city.

I appreciate being able to, from the start of our work together, see how much has changed. Boston Legacy’s values have shifted and grown. There’s been a lot of growth in community that you all have been doing—to get the name right, to get the vision that folks are carrying. It really speaks to the heart of the team—the purpose, the vision that has been brewing for a while. At the essence—pro women, pro soccer—that kind of energy won’t change. That feeling of, ‘We’re really excited to bring you this phenomenal group of people doing something that, yes, has individual greatness, but also such collective energy.’

Both pieces I have don’t feature one single character. They intentionally show a relationship between several people. The purpose of having multiple characters is to say that they’re doing this together. I hope folks feel that sense of team and camaraderie when they see the shirt, that it exudes connection to the sport and what’s to come.

We’re still at the beginning, and it feels like this might be one of the first pieces that shows people or characters saying, ‘Hey, we’re ready to run out onto the field. Join us!’ That character with their arms raised feels like both a celebration and a rallying cry: to jump in, to be along for the journey together, and to fight to do this out loud and proud.

That’s a message not just for women, but for a lot of folks whose identities are being challenged, whose ability to add beauty and passion to this world is limitless. Even in this corner, with this set of pieces, being able to celebrate that energy feels pretty special.