At the heart of a hobby rooted in America, its origin commemorating a century old game, lies a canvas that bridges the beauty of art and athletics. This small and flimsy figure is normally adorned with storied and prodigious faces – at times their signatures, memorabilia, and even cut diamonds. But as they have been passed through generations so too have their trademark styles, each of which making their mark on an era. From this comes a tangentially and rapidly growing expression known as sports card art.
Not exactly glamorous by name, artists of this field behave similarly through their lawless iconography. Within their 2 ½ x 3 ½ inch workspace is an unbound idea made from an intimate, deep-rooted hobby. Just about every collector turned artist remembers their first pack of cards, the experience a crucible for a lifetime of nostalgia and pursuit.
As former youth, many recall trading amongst each other on the street, watching their heroes on television box sets or in paint-chipped bleachers. In time, cards became a treasured and valuable profession and, for some, a gateway to expression.
Embedded in this matrix are a wide array of styles featuring mosaics, mixed media, sketches and more. From here artists choose whether to work with vintage or contemporary cards, the difference being in material, aesthetics, and players. But it’s not hard to find a mixture of these traits. This constantly fluctuating craft is almost too pervasive, leaving the results vicissitudes of imagination.
“There are no rules,” says Brooklyn artist KardKiller, a self-described villain of the hobby. His pseudo anonymous work entails a vision embedded in abstract, illustrative, and conceptual themes.
“I quickly realized that I could turn this into entertaining content,” he said. “Even to the point of replacing trading cards with characters in my favorite horror movies, building sets, and reenacting famous scenes from these films.”
He says he wanted to provoke an audience to choose whether to “love or hate” his creations. All in turn to create an “evolving” brand of art, entirely self taught over 40 years.
“The holographic nature of the cards I cut up can’t be painted by traditional means,” he said. “I had collected sports cards as a kid and realized if I focused the art back into the cards itself, I can show those collectors just how they can appreciate and collect my art.”
“The holographic nature of the cards I cut up can’t be painted by traditional means,” he said. “I had collected sports cards as a kid and realized if I focused the art back into the cards itself, I can show those collectors just how they can appreciate and collect my art.”
No matter what you collect it’s evident KardKiller reinvigorates his reimaginings. Typical chrome styles are transformed into iridescent reflections. At times, the vigor of his colors can resemble stained glass or candy wrapped in foil. And his presentations are just as charismatic, often allegorical toward games like The Legend of Zelda or movies such as Star Wars. These provide the basis for some of his pieces and give life to cards in a way rarely seen elsewhere.
But for artists like Bill Cormalis Jr the appeal lies outside the realm of entertainment and more toward creative diversity.
“Card art along with any art, you appreciate only what you understand, appreciate what you are willing to be open minded about, or appreciate what your budget will allow. With that said, I give zero fucks about if you like my art or not, especially if you didn’t pay me to do it. However, you are WAY cooler as a human being if you appreciate what I do as an artist.”
Cormalis Jr. has sought to bring forth an array of mediums and aesthetics in his pieces. “As a professional artist that has experience in fine art, illustration, graphic design/installation, murals, all the way down to making card art, I’m always trying to break from an artistic ‘pattern’…I personally do not want everything I make [to] look and feel the same.”
At a glance it’s evident this virtue is alive and well within Cormalis Jr’s work. From reimaginings of Warhol to the 3D mixed media careening into the past, there’s a multitude of styles bringing history to life.
According to him, “the hobby needs more curators of a well thought out and organized collection. Collectors who are preserving the legacy of the players collected, as well as preserving the hobby and integrity of collecting.”
But when it comes to mainstream collectors the appeal unfortunately varies. Card art, no matter the exhibition, isn’t always enough to compete with core collecting. This suffusion has kept it relatively silent through the decades – much of it boils down to money.
During the pandemic people flooded the hobby for growing financial opportunities which included the one percent. When prices and supply invertedly exploded so did loyalties and tolerances. Collecting shifted and oftentimes mirrored greed. Stores were left empty upon opening and resale values became far from sustainable. With little monetary potential from original art, artists were nowhere to be found in the hype.
Yet along came Topps, a card cutting giant dominating the sport of baseball. In their effort to celebrate 70 years in the business they put together a myriad of artists such as Andrew Thiele, CES, and Claw Money for a collective called Project 70. Each had the opportunity to design their own card for the public to buy at the forefront of the collecting world. This undoubtedly opened the door to a new audience who could appreciate the hobby in an intimate manner. These pieces were able to show the legacy and influence of entire athletes and eras in a one of a kind showcase.
“I think it is all for the better. Popularity breeds competition, and competition breeds innovation. Vice versa in my case, but the innovation keeps the new generation interested because they feel they have something new for themselves,” he said.
Though some reservations are to be had. One of which being the originality and craftsmanship behind some of the designs.
“An artwork made to shrink down to fit the parameters of a baseball card size substrate and printed to said substrate is just that, a print or a baseball card,” says Cormalis Jr. “When I cut up baseball cards, [I] draw a player portrait on a sketch card and combine those things to make one of one card art. That’s my personal definition, but I’m guilty of both practices”.
Though this “movement,” according to KardKiller, isn’t entirely lost no matter the substance. “I think it is all for the better. Popularity breeds competition, and competition breeds innovation. Vice versa in my case, but the innovation keeps the new generation interested because they feel they have something new for themselves,” he said.
“The cardboard is just the stage we all play on, and is why it will constantly perpetuate change and innovation. As we delve further into the digital realm, there is no telling how far the industry will be a part of all our lives. It may not ever be my path, but I’m all for it. Just don’t ask me to mint an NFT. Jesus, that’s like selling sand at a beach”.
In any case, the effects of this revival have been widespread among all sports communities. The door has been opened for new artists to emerge and give a voice to the art, gaining traction through its communal values.
It’s not hard to find an established card artist sharing or even purchasing art from a newcomer. It was through this kind of avenue J. Sheehan found his way onto KardKiller’s page with a uniquely made minimalist Ken Griffey Jr. vinyl card.
Sheehan “always had an interest in art” and began creating over a decade ago after discovering Banksy. He replaced the political undertones with his interest in sports and from there began a journey of trial and error before finding footing with vinyl. After decorating signed helmets with his player designs, Sheehan began to experiment further, creating original card art for the first time. “[KardKiller] gave me the push to go for it,” he said.
As mentioned above, one of his latest pieces involves cut vinyl encased entirely in rosin. The effect is vividly vibrant or, as he describes, like a “jolly rancher.”
And notably one of the most colorful forms to come alive during this period has been the work of “Belt Guy” AKA Will. Will creates handmade custom belts of all cards regardless of the oddity. With such a surplus of his own, he found a niche use for “great cards that needed to be seen more frequently.”
Will said, “One night I was out in my garage (aka The Belt Factory) and I dusted off my years old wallet idea. Although I still loved the wallet idea, I didn’t love that there would only be a few cards that were really exposed and visible. When my late night garage session was over I’d laid out plans for the first Card Belt.”
Since then card belts have been “one of the most satisfying things” he’s ever done and, to his knowledge, the only wearable card accessory out there. For his customers, belts are yet another “point of social proof that you are truly a huge fan or perhaps THE #1 fan of your team especially when that team is holding your pants up.”
For his customers, belts are yet another “point of social proof that you are truly a huge fan or perhaps THE #1 fan of your team especially when that team is holding your pants up.”
He also mentions a newfound experience with modern collectors after cutting up 1984 Tony Gwynn cards for belts. Will says the initial response came as a bombardment, with others questioning why he didn’t make a profit on selling them as is. But shortly after, his belts of the Hall of Famer “sold almost immediately.”
From this point on, designs like Will’s are seemingly pushing the boundary of card art, and official Topps artist Josh Trout agrees.
“It’s all helped boost the community,” he says. “I think people are starting to appreciate it more and seeing it for both its collectibility and investment.”
Trout composes realistic portraitures of baseball legends, with 1/1 originals finding their way into some of the biggest factory sets for consumers. By finding balance in composition, color, and detail, Trout aims to provide “little masterpieces” to the longstanding hobby on its biggest scale.
“My goal as a Topps artist on the sketchcard side is to show that traditional artists can still crank out some outstanding work, even though I don’t have an ‘undo’ button if things mess up,” he says.
“All of this taught me something very cliche, but my case is proof never to give up on a dream, even when it may not be clear at times. If I can spend 40 years trying to figure it out… then don’t bitch about a few years in the trenches. Keep asking questions if you don’t have the answers and keep pushing even if it feels like [you’re] out of room. The possibilities are truly boundless.”
After only 3 years since his introduction to the business, Trout is another example of a successful artist in the trade. One that continues to grow by the day. No matter if you’re a newly minted creator or a veteran collector, sports and art have blended blissfully in a time of constant change. Following in its tracks is a sensationally guided treasure, one that Brooklyn menace KardKiller knows all too well.
“All of this taught me something very cliche, but my case is proof never to give up on a dream, even when it may not be clear at times. If I can spend 40 years trying to figure it out… then don’t bitch about a few years in the trenches. Keep asking questions if you don’t have the answers and keep pushing even if it feels like [you’re] out of room. The possibilities are truly boundless.”
Sports card art, at the least, has proved to be a formative, impactful craft no matter one’s ability. To depict the longstanding spirit of games and the feelings behind this immortally human concept is powerful in itself. To do so in the lives of millions is nearly unfathomable. For as long as we play, watch, collect, and cheer, the art will surely continue. The question left for the auteurs of today and tomorrow is can we purely craft these empiricisms just as we received them? This impossibility just might make it last forever.
