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Slawn answers the phone from the car. There\u2019s a low, steady hum beneath his voice. The rhythmic click of a turn signal. The distracted silence while the car merges across a couple lanes of London traffic. The familiar sound of someone musing to himself from the passenger seat. We talk like that for a while. It feels a bit strange, but it\u2019s honest. There\u2019s no PR rep sitting in the corner nervously checking their watch every five minutes. There\u2019s no curator-guided studio tour. I\u2019m just catching an artist in transit, suspended right between one massive project and the next.<\/p>\n
The Hypebeast Magazine <\/em>cover shoot is on the agenda, sure. But right now it\u2019s Saatchi Yates. For weeks, Slawn has treated the London gallery like his actual studio, just with a live audience. Forget the sterile sanctity of the traditional white cube. It\u2019s gone. Walk in on a random Tuesday afternoon and all kinds of canvases are sitting there, halfway done. By the end of the day, those same surfaces might be sprayed over, rubbed out, or entirely scrapped and rebuilt.<\/p>\nMusic bleeds from a shack-like recording studio built right onto the gallery floor. Skepta drops by. Obongjayar and Youngs Teflon are hanging out. You\u2019ve got London creatives and Lagosian skaters lingering near the likes of Fikayo Awe, Kida Kudz, Fatso, and John Bay Axe-Worthy. In the center of it all, artist and graffiti hero Opake is prepping his cans, getting ready to head out with Slawn for our cover shoot \u2014 where the two will collaborate live on the cover art itself, the same way everything else here gets made: in the moment, together, with no plan. Someone listens back to a verse over the monitors while somebody else pushes a heavy painting inches to the left. You\u2019re witnessing an album take shape while the acrylic is still wet on the walls. This month-long residency culminated in a new collaborative album titled Not An Artist<\/em>, executive produced by Arthur Bean. Featuring 16 songs, it\u2019s a sonic extension of the residency chaos, featuring a heavy-duty lineup including Unknown T, AntsLive, and JELEEL! recorded right there amidst the spray fumes. It\u2019s a far cry from Slawn\u2019s early fight club days in the studio where his fans, with cult-like urgency, would swarm the space and brawls would break out for the chance to walk away with one of his paintings.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n
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You could call it an \u201cactivation\u201d or a gallery experiment, but that sounds too corporate. The space is a collision of worlds with London collectors in tailored suits standing shoulder to shoulder with kids in tracksuits who showed up just to watch Slawn paint. The wall between the finished masterpiece and the messy process of making it vanishes. Operating this way is a big gamble because the fine art market thrives on polish, provenance, and clarity. Buyers want to know exactly what they\u2019re paying for, but Slawn thrives in this chaos.<\/p>\n
Scan Slawn\u2019s track record up close and his rise makes sense. He grew up in Lagos, co-founded the skate and streetwear crew Motherlan, and soaked up the city\u2019s underground scene. It was there he caught the eye of Skepta, who recognized the raw energy of the Motherlan kids long before the rest of the world caught on. Early validation from the North London kingpin gave Slawn the fuel to land in the UK with plenty of momentum. This wasn\u2019t just street cred, as it translated directly to the auction block when Skepta curated Slawn\u2019s 2022 Sotheby\u2019s debut, forcing the traditional market to reckon with a then-22-year-old who surpassed the usual MFA-to-gallery pipeline. Shortly thereafter, he realized in today\u2019s digital age that everything is a canvas if you take the opportunity to claim it.<\/p>\n
To understand Slawn\u2019s impact, you have to see him as the inevitable conclusion of a street art lineage that started with the subway-to-canvas transitions of Keith Haring and Jean-Michel Basquiat, ran through Banksy\u2019s culture-jamming dissent, evolved into the gallery-safe pop of KAWS, and has now mutated into something much more visceral and digitally sovereign. He occupies a space alongside his current peers like the camo-obsessed Soldier and the visual world-building of Gabriel Moses. They are part of a tight-knit London vanguard, including the likes of Clint from Corteiz, where the goal isn\u2019t just to be accepted by the art world, but build a parallel universe of current mainstream culture.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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But to reduce Slawn to a London story or even a Lagos one is to miss the larger signal. His recent moves \u2014 the Art Basel takeover, the institutional co-signs from Atlanta\u2019s High Museum, the viral spectacle of his public installations \u2014 suggest a figure on the verge of a genuinely global reckoning. Where KAWS crossed over through toys and IP, and Banksy through anonymity and provocation, Slawn\u2019s crossover vector is something newer: a digitally native, diaspora-forged fluency that doesn\u2019t ask for a cultural passport. He\u2019s not the next big thing out of London. He might just be the next big thing, full stop.<\/p>\n
So way before institutional giants like Saatchi Yates came calling, Slawn bypassed traditional gatekeepers through social media, engineering marketing moments that treated disruption itself as the medium. The brush was just one tool. He operated on a \u201cmuscle memory\u201d style that favored speed and intuition over technical polish. His canvases are a wild flurry of acrylic, oil stick, and spray paint where vivid, bold-colored portraits bleed into jagged graffiti tags and abstract, jazz-like improvisations. While grinning faces, a reclamation of the \u201cSambo\u201d image, are his signature motif, Slawn\u2019s work is usually defined by its unresolved surfaces complete with drips that are left visible and lines that are loose. He rejects the notions of fine art and favors the bold rather than the precious across his interdisciplinary practice. Critics have made comparisons between his rough, spontaneous strokes and the \u201ccontemptuous nonchalance\u201d of Haring and Basquiat, but Slawn doesn\u2019t seem to care about art history as much as the impact.<\/p>\n
From a Rolex watch to a Supreme Box Logo, he\u2019s turned pretty much everything into a canvas for his grinning faces. Not to mention, he caught a bit of heat from KAWS and Disney for his \u201cunofficial\u201d figures. These pieces were essentially unauthorized remixes of the iconic KAWS Companion and Disney\u2019s Mickey Mouse silhouettes translated into 3D sculptures that played with the thin line between street-level tribute and high-art subversion. Still, his motive was to hustle and create like a machine without needing the go-ahead from anyone or the industry\u2019s blessing. His provocative digital strategies mirror the energy of collaborators like Opake, who shares that same ethos of rule breaking at every turn. But Slawn takes the spectacle further, spearheading disruptive, viral gestures like building a giant Nike Air Max statue or an inflatable figure of a wide-eyed clown towering over a London bridge to turn the city itself into a gallery.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cYou go to the small and then to the big. Cover ground like a soldier.\u201d \u2013 Slawn<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n
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The industry eventually had to play by his rules. In 2021, the late Virgil Abloh pulled Slawn into Louis Vuitton\u2019s sprawling 200 Trunks, 200 Visionaries <\/em>exhibition, one of the final major initiatives Abloh oversaw before he passed in November of the same year. Slawn took a classic LV suitcase and covered it in his recurring lips motif. That same subversive method carried over to the BRIT Awards statuette he designed in 2023. Entrusted to fellow legends like Vivienne Westwood and Zaha Hadid, Slawn cast the award in bronze and conceptually used it as a Trojan horse. He took the helmet off the Britannia figure; in Nigeria, taking off your hat is a deep sign of respect for your elders, and the bronze itself served as a visceral tie to the Benin Bronzes sitting in the British Museum just a few miles away. He took a shining symbol of British pop culture supremacy, loaded it with Nigerian heritage and handed it back to them on national TV.<\/p>\nHe\u2019s since taken over numerous institutional rooms that used to be completely closed off to people in his orbit. Where he once spray painted bootleg art cars just for the hell of it, now he\u2019s painting Lamborghinis and F1 cars on behalf of Red Bull, as well as designing album artwork for heavyweights like 21 Savage and doing Art Basel takeovers on behalf of Instagram. At the center of his ever-expanding ecosystem is BeauBeau\u2019s, an East London cafe named after his son that he runs with his long-time partner, Tallula. It\u2019s an entirely new hub in his ecosystem, a spot where kids play chess and eat jollof rice while sitting next to million-dollar art. All of this goes to show that Slawn\u2019s not thinking about just a singular project or a painting. Rather, he\u2019s building a cultural infrastructure where he serves as the architect.<\/p>\n
The scale of his life has exploded over the last few years, but the underlying logic hasn\u2019t moved an inch. To decode Slawn, though, you have to look past the friction. The art world loves to pigeonhole young, disruptive talent with the \u201cstreet artist\u201d label, but for a young Nigerian kid navigating the UK, the canvas was simply a legally safe sanctuary. He respects the graffiti kids taking risks in the train yards, but his come up required a different route. Still, translation remains a hurdle. Last year, Slawn went back to Lagos for a homecoming show called Bobo. Named after his family nickname, the show was meant to strip away the burgeoning \u201cSlawn\u201d mythology, but crossing borders changes the frequency of the work. It\u2019s a diaspora struggle realizing you can conquer the world, but when you bring the spoils back home, you have to learn an entirely new language to explain it. But Slawn doesn\u2019t sit in the in-between for long. On the phone, he talks about next moves. He knows the art market is precarious, so he\u2019s setting up a safety net of personal projects and brand deals so he never has to worry about money again.<\/p>\n
When it comes to his identity in the art world, Slawn dodges conventional titles. He\u2019s far from a traditional artist and is most definitely not playing a tortured or self-righteous provocateur. He\u2019s the jester who owns the court, sitting comfortably in London galleries while taking checks from blue-chip collectors. He\u2019s close enough to the power to manipulate it, but detached enough not to care.<\/p>\n
The car hums and switches lanes. The studio is waiting.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Estiler: You\u2019ve turned Saatchi Yates into a live working studio. Does an audience change your headspace or do you just tune them out?<\/strong><\/p>\nSlawn<\/strong>: No, I don\u2019t think I tune them out. I tune them in. I don\u2019t think with my conscious self, it\u2019s more subconscious. Whenever I\u2019m speaking to people, it changes my work a lot, which I find good. There\u2019s always ni**as in my studio, I prefer to work that way. Someone once gave me the wrong line while I was working and I was looking for a razor or something to fix it, like, \u201cNo, just rub it out.\u201d And I realized I liked how that looked. So in this new show, on some of the works, I\u2019ll spray the paint on there and just rub it out. It gives a nice effect.<\/p>\nFrom Lambos to an F1 car and even the statuette for the Brits, do you feel like this has moved insanely fast like all your projects?<\/strong><\/p>\nNo, not that fast. I\u2019ve been in this industry since I was like 16, so I feel mad old. So yeah it doesn\u2019t. I don\u2019t really feel it. It\u2019s just my job.<\/p>\n
With everything happening so fast, do you ever actually stop to take it all in, or are you just focused on keeping the momentum going?<\/strong><\/p>\nNo moments to reflect if you think it\u2019s going to end. That\u2019s when it\u2019s over.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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You once said in an interview that you\u2019re treating these projects like a video game. Sitting here now, what does the final boss look like? Or are you not seeing an end to it?<\/strong><\/p>\nIf this one was a game it would be free roam mode. If you want to do that mission, you could end it. But there\u2019s no end goal. This is just like free roam right now \u2014 side quests and stuff.<\/p>\n
Your signature faces almost started out like caricatures. As your life changed over the last few years, do those faces feel more like a mask or more like self-portraits?<\/strong><\/p>\nThey\u2019re masks, yeah. I use them as masks so I can get behind them and do whatever I want to do. But I see things from them, from my work sometimes.<\/p>\n
In your homecoming show, Bobo<\/em>, you mentioned that the \u201cSlawn\u201d persona feels like a foreign figure to people in Nigeria. Is Slawn just a myth you built for London, and now you\u2019re trying to step forward as Olaolu?<\/strong><\/p>\nMan look, I wish that I could use my real name. Slawn\u2019s just a nickname for my work, I tell people this all the time. I was fascinated with the concept of a jester. Because the jester is the only character in the kingdom that could mimic the king and not get executed. So if I could see some things that no one else could see, why not?<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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The fine art space likes to use words like \u201chomage\u201d or \u201cappropriation.\u201d But there\u2019s a lot of things that you say that are just blunt. Like you say you steal from everybody\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\nLook, the internet is for everyone. It\u2019s a public space, man. People like to say it\u2019s private sometimes, but it\u2019s not. If you put something of yours up and I think it works for me, I\u2019m picking it up. There\u2019s freedom in that. I want to be free enough to do whatever I want, all the time. Honestly, I don\u2019t really care.<\/p>\n
Did going back to Lagos and doing Bobo<\/em> give you some sort of creative freedom that you can\u2019t do in London?<\/strong><\/p>\nThe creative freedom felt more comfortable. The reception for that exhibition was good but it didn\u2019t stick. The concept didn\u2019t get across to people in Nigeria that much. Because I think people from my origins\u2026 sometimes it\u2019s hard for them to enjoy my work because they don\u2019t know the process or how to get to that point, context speaking.<\/p>\n
Going back to your skate and street art roots, we\u2019ve seen street artists become museum regulars. Is street art and graffiti even taboo anymore?<\/strong><\/p>\nI don\u2019t think I\u2019ve ever done street art because I\u2019m too scared to go outside and paint since I\u2019m on a visa. I don\u2019t want to get arrested, for real. Yeah, so these guys risk their lives every day to paint these trains and stuff, so I don\u2019t want to be disrespecting them. But there\u2019s a fine line between intentional art with canvases and spray painting on the street. The problem with that fine line is like left and right. If it\u2019s spray paint on the canvas, the graff kid might be calling you a nerd and shit. But if it\u2019s spray painting outside, the person that\u2019s inside the studio doing the canvas may look a little snobby or whatever. But I just like to do what I like to do.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Do you still consider fine art, personal projects, and commercial work one and the same?<\/strong><\/p>\nYou go to the small and then to the big. Cover ground like a soldier.<\/p>\n
How do you maneuver through these different opportunities? How do you decide what to say yes or no to?<\/strong><\/p>\nThe one that has the most money. If there\u2019s a lot of money involved, then I\u2019ll try and make it work. But it\u2019s also corny to me to call things corny. Because what\u2019s really corny to me is trying to be cool by becoming someone else.<\/p>\n
Content creators are somehow becoming the new contemporary artists with social media. Are you ever critical of another person\u2019s creativity?<\/strong><\/p>\nI don\u2019t like to judge people. I\u2019m only really critical of my work. I just try to make a living off my art so I can afford rent. What I don\u2019t like is boring, boring art.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Do you ever worry about burning out or do you not believe in breaking points?<\/strong><\/p>\nThe possibility of falling off is a reality, but I don\u2019t care if I do fall off because I\u2019ll just find another thing to do.<\/p>\n
What advice would you give someone that doesn\u2019t come from a fine art background and wants to follow the same path as you?<\/strong><\/p>\nI don\u2019t have no fine art background. I don\u2019t have no street art background. I was just an immigrant who came to this country and found something to do as anyone else would. So I think you just gotta stop worrying about all that nonsense and just do it.<\/p>\n
Who gave you that first chance to enter an institutional space and did you feel any imposter syndrome?<\/strong><\/p>\nVirgil encouraged me a lot. He put me in with 200 artists in his big LV show with all these suitcases. Skepta fit more with my personality and really connected to my art. He was the person that gave me the first instance of feeling, \u201cIf he likes you then must be doing something right.\u201d It was onto the next after that.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Were there ever deal breakers that you just had to say no to while you\u2019re navigating institutional spaces?<\/strong><\/p>\nI mean no \u2014 there\u2019s no line that\u2019s too far. When you have a line that\u2019s too far then you\u2019ve just kind of limited your work. But there\u2019s nothing that\u2019s too far when it comes to expressing yourself.<\/p>\n
With constant labeling around the fine art world \u2014 like blue chip or red chip \u2014 how do you define yourself and what area do you fit in?<\/strong><\/p>\nI don\u2019t fit in anywhere freely. I don\u2019t think anyone could box me into a space. Let\u2019s say people like who they like. I\u2019ve never been thinking that I\u2019ve done something extremely wrong or extremely right.<\/p>\n
How does your mindset shift when you go from galleries to being the guy they hand the keys to?<\/strong><\/p>\nNo one knew me when I used to make tees and so forth for people\u2019s brands. So I made a thousand tees and told all these kids to go to the gallery that I\u2019m working in. They didn\u2019t know me back then, but asked for my work. So there\u2019s all of these kids going in there like, \u201cDo you have any Slawn work available?\u201d And they were like we don\u2019t know who the fuck that is\u2026 but now they do. So that\u2019s how I planted the chip.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cI don\u2019t want my kids to be artists. I want them to be doctors.\u201d \u2013 Slawn<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Let\u2019s go to the work that you\u2019re doing at Saatchi Yates. Are you working with new mediums for your live studio?<\/strong><\/p>\nYeah, you know what my old work was. The lines were very very clean and now it\u2019s a bit rough. I can\u2019t really do the clean line stuff anymore because I\u2019ve gotten onto something new. I forget all that stuff from before. It\u2019s rough too coz I\u2019ve been using charcoal. It\u2019s rough lines and I like it.<\/p>\n
What was the vision for this Hypebeast cover that you want to paint?<\/strong><\/p>\nThe same way I approach everything. Just go at it and bring my friends. See my friend across here [points to Opake], if he has a job, he\u2019ll pull me in. I do the same.<\/p>\n
How important is it to help the homies and show love using your platform?<\/strong><\/p>\nThat\u2019s how it works man, we help each other. It just makes more sense to do things with other people in this world. I don\u2019t know all of the people in my world. That\u2019s how collaborations sometimes work, like there\u2019s people I know and who I don\u2019t know. But with my people, it\u2019s like a Megazord. For me when the opp is too big, they transform and they add their stuff to help carry it.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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What do you have coming up apart from this live studio at Saatchi?<\/strong><\/p>\nWorking on the next exhibition in Japan. And also there\u2019s this next big thing in April. I can\u2019t speak on it yet, though.<\/p>\n
With the Slawn legacy, are you also wishing that your kids could be artists, too? Are you giving them that creative freedom?<\/strong><\/p>\nI don\u2019t want my kids to be artists. I want them to be doctors, smart. We need more doctors in the world. Yeah, I want all my kids to be scientists or microbiologists.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\n Author: Keith Estiler \/
\nPhotographer: Kemka Ajoku \/
\nProduction: Keana Sy, Anisah Moosa, Emily Watts \/
\nCinematography: Ed Peacock \/ Editor in Chief: Madrell Stinney \/
\nVP Global Creative Director: Kevin E. Wong \/
\nDeputy Editor: Zach Sokol \/
\nGlobal Creative Ops & Production Manager: Gabriella Koppelman \/
\nArt Director: David Wise \/
\nSenior Designer: Forrest Grenfell \/
\nFeatures Editor: Noah Rubin \/
\nHead of Production: Kyle Reyes \/
\nSpecial Thanks: Fikayo, John Bay Axworthy, Lazer, Nobo Agency, Opake, Tommy Corlito <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u00a0<\/span>Hypebeast Magazine\/<\/span>By Keith Estiler<\/span>\/<\/span>Apr 21, 2026<\/time>\/<\/span>