Baron Batch greeted me at his art studio with a handshake, a half-hug and a simple request: Leave the iPhone on a shelf in the hallway.
I stepped into the studio, perched on a hill in Pittsburgh’s Allentown neighborhood, and was immediately swallowed by color — large canvases in progress, oversized paintbrushes standing upright in clustered boxes, and containers of markers, pens and pencils in plastic and glass jars. Painted ceiling fans hung above. A few cats wandered through.
He handed me a 6-by-8-inch block of wood, thick and painted on both sides and fashioned into a book with a binder. I held it, turned it over, then opened it — blank pages to take notes for our conversation.
I met his fiancée, Lauren, who smiled and extended a hand. Batch, dressed in paint-splattered sweats, a T-shirt and gray Crocs, sat down with me for what turned into a two-hour conversation.
Some might know Batch from his short career as a running back with the Steelers. Before that, he starred at Texas Tech University and led the Big 12 Conference with 14 rushing touchdowns in the 2009 season. A knee injury cut his pro football career short after he played 12 games in 2012.
After he was cut by the Steelers in 2013, Batch reinvented himself and gained a following for his artwork. A Texas native, he remained in Pittsburgh.
“Once you’re here long enough, you know people who know people,” he said. “I’m 15 years in Pittsburgh. There are so many things about it that I think are incredible.”
We barely talked football, though he had kind words for former Steelers coach Mike Tomlin. We spent more time talking about his childhood in Texas, and how he lost his mother at age 15. As the years pass, his football identity has faded.
I knew of Batch from his free art drops, where he would leave his artwork for strangers to find. His online followers notice that the free pieces show up almost daily from Frick Park to the West End Overlook.
Batch randomly places works all over town and then posts the image with the word “Free” on Instagram. No price tag — just a burst of color on paper, canvas or a plank of wood, causing an urban treasure hunt. His followers often respond in the comments section when they locate it. (“Got it!! Thank you!!!” wrote a discoverer after a recent find at Point State Park.)
Batch views the art drops as a way to bring people together through curiosity and creativity. The scavenger hunts also add an air of mystery to his persona.
My question: Who leaves free art like this?
“I really just put it out there and let it create a sense of adventure on its own,” Batch said. “You never really know what people are going to do with a permanent piece of art. But when someone takes it home and brings it into their space, it gives me a clearer understanding of how the work resonates with people beyond myself.”
Meeting Baron Batch
When I initially reached out to Batch on Instagram, I asked to accompany him on a drop.
Eventually we did that when the timing was right. By then, I had met with Batch four times. It was clear he wanted to get to know me before trusting me with the excursion.
Our conversations were compelling enough that Batch invited me — along with my daughters — to his studio for an art class.
We arrived on a Sunday afternoon. My daughters painted alongside a half-dozen strangers of all ages, enjoyed pizza in Batch’s garden and listened to playlists drifting through the studio.
Later, Batch told me about his plans to help turn property he purchased across the street in Allentown into a garden and community gathering spot.
“Being able to have the resources, have the vision, have the people in place and have the motivation, allows us to look at a block like this and see the value of turning into a beautiful garden, gathering space,” he said.
He wants neighborhood kids to help design and build the project.
“They’re capable of learning construction practices — they just have to be invited to do it,” he said. “They’re going to have great ideas.”
Batch described the effort as a collaborative “heavy lift” rooted in trust, shared resources and community relationships. His role is to provide a starting point while leaving room for neighbors and partners to help shape what the space becomes.
When I asked him questions about Pittsburgh, his art, his creative process or his daily life, he generally paused and thought about the inquiry. Sometimes he changed the subject. One time, he wrote out a two-page answer on paper and delivered it to me during my next visit.
We talked about the recent death of one of his cats, Cheeto — whom I had met during an earlier visit.
Batch posted a tribute to Cheeto on Instagram a few weeks ago. On Monday, he told me that he and Lauren were stopped in traffic when a construction worker recognized him. The two exchanged smiles before the man said, “Baron, what’s up dude? I’m so sorry about Cheeto, man.”
That’s the kind of genuine familiarity Batch has built online.
Art drop
In early May, we met at Big Dog Coffee on the South Side and set out to drop off some free art. Rolled up on a seat were two small painted canvases — one containing a unicorn painted with strong strokes of black, white and gray. The other contained words that read: “It is not success that makes one joyful. ’Tis joy that makes one joyful.”
Batch ran into a neighborhood postman he knows. The postman suggested a good spot at the end of 28th Street to leave the art.
“Over the years, as people have connected with the artwork and we’ve met in person, there’s been a real sense of kindredness,” Batch told me. “The artwork is an attempt to express who I am.”
He left both paintings on a short wall, snapped a few photos with his phone and posted them to Instagram.
And then he was off — to the next drop, the next painting, the next project.
“If you’ve never met me but you just vibe with the art, you know me well,” he said.
Baron Batch and Lauren are opening their studio and gallery for visits. To learn more, email him at info@studio-am.com.Besides the free art drops, Batch sells artwork online at baronbatch.com.