In the forever instant society that we live in today, it’s no surprise people see what was once viewed as lifelong goals – to be an artist, singer, performer and so on – as quick decisions made on the previous successes of those before them. Careers don’t pop up overnight or in a small space of time anymore. That famous epigram says it all: “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” It takes time to mature your craft, and from what I’ve heard, the chase is just as fun – if not more so – than the goal.
One thing I really enjoy in interviews and speaking with friends, is hearing this process – the struggles, the lessons, and the moments that built you into the person you are today.
Someone who truly took the leap into the dark – before the craft he lives for was even seen as a successful career path to take, and then became a leading figure in a worldwide art movement – is bold British artist D*Face.
Here is a story that is definitely unique and fully deserves to be documented. From a skate kid fascinated with California culture, he dug his own path through graffiti, pop art, and propaganda, taking on the forefront of the street art movement with the likes of Banksy. The cobbled streets of London have shaped his view on how to present his work on the streets and in galleries, creating some truly memorable pieces with multimedia.
Let’s start at the very beginning. What key things made you who you are today? How was growing up?
D*FACE: I recon if I’m honest, it was having a sister that was really clever. I’ve thought about this, because I’ve realised I’m kind of weird. And what makes me different to my sister, who is super clever, and [has] gone down a very career-oriented path – is I’m like the opposite. And I think what it boils down to is that quite early on she was the golden child, the apple of my mum’s eye.
So when I realised I got more attention by not doing what I was told, something stuck. And I’m talking about a little kid at this point. I mean, I was a sweetheart, then it got to a point when I was like, “Ah, if I went against the grain, I would get attention.” And I don’t know why I needed it, but that’s what happened [laughs]. By default, the things I got into just so happened to be the things my mum disapproved of, like I got into skateboarding and she was like, “Skateboarding is for thick children.” She really saw it as this outcast thing back then, and I was like, “Cool! Because I really like it,” and it drove me into it even more.
We didn’t have any money. You know, my parents were hardworking people. My mum worked in the bank and my dad was a panel beater [an auto body mechanic], he was always working with his hands, making stuff we didn’t have the money to buy. It was like, “Dad, I want a walkie talkie,” so I got a block of wood with a nail in the top, painted khaki green, and that was it. Or one time he [taught] me how to make a rip saw out of a dog tin and a bit of string, and it was always this creative hands-on approach, this DIY mentality. So I guess those combinations of things have formed me into who I am today – with taking my own path, making my own amusements and doing things against the grain.
You grew up in South London right?
I grew up just near Wimbledon, so London was always on the doorstep. At a very early age, I traveled in to escape in town, skating as much as possible.
Although you grew up in London, your work is very California-driven, why?
I looked at Thrasher magazine when I was a kid and it was CALIFORNIA. That was everything I wanted to be. It was the ’80s skateboarding culture and the music scene that went with it and there was me growing up in London where it felt we didn’t have any of that, and you start to try and find your way within that thing to be creative, skating as much as you can with the shit weather we get… But yeah, it was always about California for me, weirdly.
I definitely understand where you’re coming from with this, London was always painted to be a very dull-coloured, grayscale city in books and films. America was pretty much a total 360, especially LA, which was the pop art poster of the world.
Yeah, dude – I would look at that sun in pictures and it’s bright and all year round, everyone’s wearing fluoro and Vision Street Wear, Santa Cruz stuff… And you’re in London and you couldn’t get that gear. London has the cobbled streets, broken foot paths you couldn’t skate everywhere. In my head, in California, skateparks were on every corner, so that was always the holy grail. I looked at America through very rose-tinted spectacles thinking as a kid.
What about your art background?
I wasn’t very academic. I couldn’t stand being told what to do. So very naturally falling into art. But that for me was fascinating. Not so much the schooling I was getting, it was very traditional, like “paint this bowl of flowers.” That bored the shit out of me and I wasn’t no good at it either. But what I was interested in was the graphics from skate magazines. I didn’t know who or how you got to do them. Actually in my naiveties, I thought you had to be a pro skater, then you got to make your own skate graphics. That was what inspired me: Skate graphics.
First time on the streets painting…
As a kid, skateboarding and graffiti went hand in hand because the spots you skated had graffiti and a lot of the track sides had graffiti on them, so you would get the train into the city and see it. The whole thing just fitted together. Some of the kids I skated with were older, so they influenced me. They were catching tags so I naturally followed, but mine weren’t very good, that was something I learnt very quickly, so I didn’t stick with it.
It wasn’t till much later till I came back to those things I was doing as a teenager, and I would see how exciting and interesting that time was all to me. But I wanted now to change how I was doing it, using the skills I had learnt and my new interests to build on a broader outlet for my work.
A lot of people didn’t appreciate tags, and as I wasn’t very good at them, I thought I would take a new angle – do something that wasn’t on the streets and change people’s perception of what graffiti was.
Is that when D*Face as we know started?
Yeah, that was late ’90s really. I started doing a character, merely because I thought it would be a cool thing to do. Because people can familiarise themselves with a character in whichever way they want to see. I don’t have to tell them what it is, they can just perceive it in their own rights. It was really just me fucking around with this character, through idle boredom. I then took to the city and placed these characters in all different spots, connecting routes around London and it became addictive. I want to do more, I want to go bigger.
It got real interesting when people started telling me their friend or whoever, saw this piece here in Hammersmith. It was real interesting to know it’s still there and that people were noticing them. Maybe I should do them bigger and more… it was just self-perpetuating. That was like late ’99, and I guess 2002 I kinda kicked in – started really painting bigger pieces and thinking over what I wanted to do.
A lot of us who pursue our hobbies and want to turn them into a full-time thing have to run side jobs to fund it till it’s on its own feet. How was you funding your craft?
I had a job. I worked in design as an illustrator and hated it. It just wasn’t what I wanted to do… I thought it was. I did a course in animation and illustrator design and it was a really creative open course. It wasn’t like, “Here’s a brief come up with a logo,” it was like, “Here’s a word. Come up with a concept.” So everything I was doing was concept-based. I then went on to get a job from my grad show and very quickly realised, “Fuck, this wasn’t what I thought I would be getting into,” so this really fed my drive to do my own work outside of my job, and it took many years to get the courage to eventually say, “I’m going to quit this job and concentrate on my own work full-time.”
I still didn’t know what I was going to be, so it was a real leap of faith. Now, everyone knows there’s a thing called street art or whatever-the-fuck you want to call it. They know there’s artists making good money and lives on their work, so you could have that aspiration to be like, “That’s what I want to do.” But at the time, there wasn’t any of that, it just didn’t exist yet. All I could see is I could give it a go, or regret not giving it a go.
Read the rest of the conversation with D*Face over at TheHundreds.com