Working with my monsters sometimes feels like spending a day at the circus. Everyone is running around, each of them has a plan of their own and, naturally, an opinion to go with it. I stand in the middle of the ring, trying to coordinate who gets to make an appearance and when – and which combinations allow the monsters to show their best side.
As the Keeper of the Monsters, that is my job, after all. Artistically, they have never cared much for boundaries. They follow me everywhere, taking up space on canvases as readily as on skateboards, shoes and street signs. Recently, they have also developed a taste for seeing themselves on buildings. The bigger, the better.
So I follow them with the right paint in hand, sometimes feeling more like their assistant than the artist. I may be the hand that paints them – but in truth, they are the ones in charge.
They cheerfully make their rounds, spreading their smiles wherever they go. Their visual language is shaped by street art and contemporary art, but they still have no desire to be placed neatly into a box.
For all the freedom they enjoy, one thing matters to me: capturing the precise moment when something serious begins to resonate beneath all that playfulness.
At first glance, it may be the colours and the friendly smile looking back at us that catch our attention. But if we stay with the work a little longer and return its gaze, another layer begins to emerge. Within it, we may discover a feeling, a memory or a long-forgotten part of ourselves.
And while I am still trying to bring a little order to the ring, the monsters have already decided where they are heading next.