Hold Back the Night (The Trammps), A 6 Story Mural commissioned by Park Albany, Albany, NY, 2017

JMikal Davis, aka Hellbent, is a muralist, painter, and street artist who lives and works in Brooklyn.

Davis began making street-based artwork in the late 1990s while still in art school at the University of Georgia. Upon graduating and moving to Brooklyn in 2000, he took up the nom de plume Hellbent, experimenting with various media and becoming known for his hand-carved plaques that he pulled throughout New York City and eventually across the globe.

Since 2011, the backgrounds that started on these plaques became the focal point of his work both on and off the street. The abstract configurations of multiple patterns layered on top of each other are derived from American quilt-making and folk art traditions, inspirations not typically associated within murals and street art.

In his public work, he aims to include elements from different textiles associated with the citizens of the community and weave them together harmoniously.

Interview by Isabel Hou

We often think of city walls as barriers, yet you use them as canvases to break down boundaries through art. How do you see your work as reshaping public space, even redefining it?

Public space should be engaging and more than a series of advertisements. I hope my work can help to shake someone out of their daily grind, even if it is just for a moment, to foster a place for interaction. I want my art to stop someone in their tracks and maybe they take that into the rest of their day or even think about it later. I hope that moment of reflection allows the viewer to get out of their own head and enjoy, that’s all I’m really trying to do.

Quilts often reflect the hands that made them, and folk art is deeply personal. How does your past, specifically growing up in the South, leave its own mark on your art? Are there elements in your pieces that connect directly to your own journey?

Growing up in the South was a big influence on my art, in particular the folk art traditions that are prevalent there. I like the idea that despite “classical training,” people wanted to make/create, and it didn’t matter how it related to a broader historical art model. This allows for a personal touch in the work and I think that is an important aspect in art.

You want to be able to see the artist in the works and, at the same time, be able to connect personally with the work. This allows for honesty, and I am always trying to bring that into my art. I would like to think that the work has 100% of me in it and it exudes the journey that got me there and is reflected to the viewer.

I want to bring a bit of myself into every work. This might sound strange given that I work abstractly, but I have been told that work is “so me,” which is the highest compliment as that is what I am trying to convey. But I also want to leave the work broad enough so that the viewer can also bring themselves and their journey into it, too.

When creating something as bold and permanent as a mural, how much do you think about the viewer’s experience in the space? Do you see the act of creating as a collaboration with the people who will live around and interact with your work?

I do think it's a collaboration with the people that will eventually come into contact with my public works. It’s such a privilege to be asked to create something in public, and I want every viewer to get something out of it. It might be only something aesthetically or if someone can relate to one of the patterns I am using.

When I am designing a new work for a mural, I consider the history and different cultures of the area. I often discover new patterns and colorways in this process, which helps my art grow. For example, I did a large mural in Albany, NY, and I considered the Dutch history in the settling of New York. I reference Dutch porcelain painting and even use the colorway of the state flag, two aspects that I had not previously used in my work.

Another would be a mural in Little India, a neighborhood in Journal Square in Jersey City, NJ. I used a paisley pattern, among others, that I found while researching Indian block printing. I had previously never considered using paisley and, as a matter of fact, did not know it was such a part of Indian culture!

Jaan Pehechaan Ho (Mohammed Rafi), Jersey City, New Jersey, in India Square. Inspired by Indian block prints and textiles.

Patterns and colors in your murals can feel almost like messages. If your work were a language, what words or ideas would it speak most fluently?

I would hope it would speak to the universality of the human condition and how we are only here for a short time so it should be joyous when possible. I think the reason I am using patterns is because they have a meaning or understanding beyond language.

Symbols are as old as human existence and have been used in lieu of words to convey meaning or messages, and I want my public work to speak to anyone who comes upon it, and they can extrapolate their own meaning from the patterns.

Your murals are large and bold, yet they seem to invite a kind of intimate reflection—like they’re asking us to step closer to see the details. What do you think it is about geometric patterning that draws people in?

I would like to think that it is accessible to all. We are taught shapes early on, and people can understand them. I am taking these shapes and layering them on top and behind one another, which allows the viewer to translate what they are looking at.

I try to keep a “logic” to the construction but sometimes I do initially bend this logic. I think there is a universal quality that patterns have, which allows most people to relate to them.

Quilts have a sense of warmth and memory, yet your urban murals are far from cozy settings. How do you think your murals negotiate that tension between the warmth of tradition and the rawness of the street?

I think this juxtaposition has been at the heart of my work since I began putting art on the street. I like that concept of being out of context. The idea that you are in an urban setting and you come upon a piece that is made by using something as delicate as lace and a stencil to create it was my initial fascination.

I like the tension that is created between the two worlds: gritty street and delicate art. Also with the loud colors I use, I want to break the banality of greys and beige that seem to be the predominant palette in urban design. I hope these colors add a warmth to the colder edges of the city.

You’ve described your patterns as partly inspired by architectural forms. If you could bring one forgotten or neglected building style back to life through your work, what would it be?

I really like brutalism as an architectural form. I would like to see more of these buildings, but maybe instead of the raw concrete that is traditionally left as the rendering on the building, we could add images and color. It is the perfect surface to paint, and usually, these buildings have interesting curves or lines. I think, in the hands of artists, they could make them very inviting and or interesting. Again with the juxtaposing! Taking hard concrete and warming it up, I can't seem to stop, haha.

Your work brings folk art into the urban landscape in a way that surprises and engages the viewer. Do you think there’s something revolutionary about translating these traditional patterns onto walls in a modern metropolis?

I do think that people get an idea in their head when the word urban art is mentioned, and yes, I would like to do something different than expected. I want to open up the possibilities of what can be made and where it is placed. It should be surprising and unexpected. Who wants the cliche when they can have something original?

Many quilts are made from leftover fabrics, piecing together scraps into something whole. Does the idea of “repurposing” or “recycling” resonate in your process or the way you choose to blend folk art with street aesthetics?

100%! Recycling and repurposing are a huge aspect of my practice. When I am painting a mural or working on a piece in the studio, I use a lot of masking, and oftentimes, they become coated in an overspray of colors and patterns as I reuse them.

I will take these scraps and then use them to make collages in my sketchbook. These will then be used as sketches for paintings. In fact, the paintings in my “Post Punk” series are all based on these sketches. Sometimes, the collaged tape pieces are even the artwork itself, such as in the “Demo” series, where the actual collages were sealed in resin.

In a new body of work, I am taking the lace that I previously used as stencils and incorporating them into the new paintings. Along with cutting the actual canvas, I will take these scraps and glue them into a different painting. So, yes, I am a firm believer in upcycling, which is akin to the philosophy behind quilting. The refuse from the art-making process can be artworks themselves.

Post-Punk. Aerosol Burns (Essential Logic), Spray Paint and Acrylic Paint on Canvas, 40x40 in

Post-Punk. Sinking (The Shroud), Spray Paint on Canvas, 37 x 37”

The Red Ghosts of European Time, spray paint with cut muslin and lace, 30x40in

You Can't Get There From Here, Cut Canvas with Spray Paint and Lace, 30x40 in

Your murals add layers of color and geometry to the city’s own patchwork of cultures and histories. When you’re painting a mural in a particular neighborhood, do you think about how your colors, shapes, and patterns might amplify or reflect the spirit of that community?

Yes, definitely! When I am researching a place where I am to paint, I like to take into consideration the inhabitants of the community and the history of the place. It’s great for me as I might learn about a particular textile pattern that I had not encountered and maybe a different colorway that I had not previously used.

It makes the project interesting for me, and I hope the end result is interesting for the community at large. I mentioned some of those examples earlier. I want everyone to be able to get something out of work; I don't want it to be like here is my thing, now you guys deal with it. It should be a collaboration with the public.

Isabel Hou is a rising senior at Cornell University interested in art, writing, and law. She plans to live and work in Manhattan post-grad. When she’s not in New York, she’s based out of Colorado, where she enjoys the mountains, the art, and the solitude.

Did you like what you read here? Please support our aim of providing diverse, independent, and in-depth coverage of arts, culture, and activism.