Enz’Horgues – A Family Festival in Southwest France
Written by T.K. Mills
Photos Provided by Doums
The French village of Horgues lies nestled in the shadow of the Pyrenees Mountains, straddled along the Spanish border. Settled in the Southwest of France, gentle hills and lush greenery pervade this picturesque landscape, a pleasant snapshot of pastoral France. Livestock amble lazily about free-range farms, stone cottages dot the few roads, and the genial aroma of freshly baked baguettes waft out of the town’s sole boulangerie. With a population of ~1,200 people, this quaint town would hardly seem the site for an international street art festival.
Yet despite appearances, one sunny September weekend, this quiet village commenced the first edition of the Enz’Horgues Festival. Titled as a portmanteau of the town and lead artist-curator, Enzo, the family-focused event was born of a conversation between the 31-year-old artist and the Mayor of Horgues, after the former witnessed the vibrance of other festivals in cities like New York and Miami.
Hoping to showcase their little-known region and inspire artistic endeavors amongst the rural residents, Enzo and the Mayor cooperated alongside a team of volunteer staff to put together the end of summer celebration. Featuring a roster of 8 international artists from New York, Mexico, Colombia, and France, the two-day affair was jam-packed with planned activities including lessons on spray-painting, an art battle, a raffle, and even a choreographed dance.
The assembled artistic crew was composed of French natives Enzo, Fanny, and Liza Vivaldi; Trasheer of Mexico City; and New Yorkers, Calicho, Georgia ‘Gigi’ Violet, MadVaillian, and Vanessa Kreytak; supplemented by the media team of Doums from Bordeaux, and myself, representing UP Magazine. We trickled into town days before the kick-off, eager, excited, and uncertain of what to expect.
Enzo / Photo by DOUMS
Enzo
Charismatic and ambitious, graced with an olive tan and dimpled smile, the artist Enzo Yurrebaso-Madariaga earned his title spot, infusing the festival with his energy and aspirations.
The headlining artist was the essential element in bringing things together, due in part to his fluency in French, Spanish, and English – meaning he was the only one able to wholly communicate with everyone. Raised in Tarbes (a small city of ~45,000, unlikely to appear on a major map, though a metropolis in comparison to the neighboring Horgues) his family ancestry traces back over the mountains to Spain, when his grandparents fled north during the Franco’s Civil War. As a child he loved the NBA, attending a youth training camp in Seattle, a rare opportunity to visit America which encouraged his English development. His adoration of basketball led to an interest in hip-hop, which in turn led him to graffiti.
During his teenage years, he practiced his tag in the stone alleys of Tarbes before later attending a local art school for university. Enzo’s creative career has flourished in recent years, establishing himself as the premier artist of the region, and a stalwart representative of Southwest France. Among his accomplishments is a full-scale mural at L’etape du Berger a family owned restaurant near the peak of the Pyrenees, renowned for their farm fresh food and a visit by President Macron during the Tour-de-France; headlining at the 2024 Bushwick Collective Block Party, and a prominent mural for A-Walls in Miami. Enzo’s artwork is remarkable for his detailed portraits, painted in vivid neon shades.
Though, I first met Enzo long before he established himself as a distinguished talent.
Our chance encounter occurred in 2018. At the time, I was dating an au pair [an international babysitter & caretaker], and through her got friendly with a group of French girls who invited me to a watch party for the World Cup. July’s air was hot with emotion, and it seemed every ex-pat from La République Française was in attendance for the France vs Croatia finale, Enzo among them. In the year before UP, I was still deep in the hustle, working to make a name for myself as an art journalist just as Enzo was beginning his path toward street art. Word got through the party, and we connected over beers and cheers for the French victory.
Enzo was in New York on a 3-month visa, nearing the end of his term, and looking to paint as much as he could. In the weeks following the World Cup I did what I could to help him leave his mark, supporting him as he competed in an art battle in the basement of Le Poisson Rouge and connecting the artist with JMZ Walls, where he painted his first legal wall in America. Near the end of his tenure, we bid adieu over cigarettes and coffee. Invigorated by the experience, he vowed to return soon and paint on a grand scale.
Tragedy has a way of striking when you least expect it. Enzo’s ambitions to return to New York were waylaid when his father passed away on December 16th, 2018. Responsibility was thrust upon him, as he saw to taking care of his mother and younger brother, becoming the man of the house while only in his mid-twenties. Though he continued to paint, his priority was taking care of the family. We stayed in touch loosely through Instagram.
Our friendship rekindled in the summer of 2023, as Vanessa and I shook off the last of COVID’s cage and embarked on a much-delayed month-long voyage across Europe. While plotting our trip, I reached out to see if he had any recommendations of what to see in France and in turn he offered us a tour of Tarbes. On our first time through the south-western city, Enzo took us everywhere, showcasing murals he’d done, presenting us with French delicacies, all the while beaming with pride of his hometown. Vanessa and Enzo even collaborated on a small wall near the city center. Over a cigarette, he told me of his dream of hosting a festival so the world could one day see the beauty that his region had to offer.
Following our reunion, Enzo and I picked up where he left, with our respective spouses also becoming fast friends. That October, he and Camille, his long-term girlfriend (whose festival title would be ‘Boss-Lady’) came to visit New York where we painted at Welling Court in Astoria. Not long after, we linked up in Miami for Art Basel, and then this past June he stayed with us while painting the Bushwick Collective and Freeman’s Alley. We went from losing touch, to having Enzo and Camille on our wedding list.
The Crew Arrives
One of the most notable characteristics of Enzo is his fierce loyalty toward family & friends.
In curating Enz’Horgues, rather than simply hitting up the biggest artists he knew, Enzo reached out to the artists he had befriended and trusted; beyond Vanessa and myself, he met Calicho, Georgia, and Trasheer during the Bushwick Collective, MadVaillian from our shared house in Miami, while Liza was a fellow local muralist and Fanny was the younger sister of a classmate from art school. Doums he’d met while working at Basketball tournament in Bordeaux, for which the photographer was capturing the event.
One of Enzo’s goals for the festival, (beyond creating a great event) was to showcase the charm of his region to us outsiders. We arrived in spates in the days leading up to the weekend. Georgia and Calicho coincided their arrival in Toulouse with us, and we split a car to Tarbes. Upon arriving in the city, Enzo welcomed us into his home while our official lodging was being prepped.
That first night, Enzo had arranged a welcome feast at the house of Camille’s family. Joined by Enzo’s mother, his brother Hugo, plus Camille’s parents, her sister Carlou and Carlou’s boyfriend, we were offered a banquet of French specialties, including foie gras and escargot, “the oysters of the ground!” as Enzo described them.
Despite a light drizzle and language barriers, everyone was in cheerful spirits, as animated chit-chat washed across the patio and bottles of wine flowed into never-empty glasses. Camille’s father Bruno, a metalsmith who creates custom staircases (as well as his own sculptural pieces as a hobby,) gave Calicho and I a tour of his shop and motorcycle collection, while Vanessa and Georgia danced with the moms. By the time dinner was served, everyone had a steady buzz, and after the meal they brought the ashtrays to the kitchen table, as we smoked cigarettes and drank our eyes red. It was an unforgettable introduction to French culture.
The next morning, we nursed our hangovers over coffee in Enzo’s living room while Georgia cooked everyone eggs, to the bewilderment of Enzo. (In France, eggs are typically a dinner dish; based on the habits of our magnanimous host, the French breakfast is coffee, cigarettes, and maybe a baguette.) After, the artists went to tour the school where the festival would take place and practice with the dance troupe Le Renc’art de la Danse, while I went on a mission to scoop MadVaillian from the Toulouse Airport. It was a 4-hour round-trip, but we got a chance to catch up, as the graffiti artist eyed prime run-up spots along the highway.
It was Thursday, and we were two days out from the festival. With MadVaillian in tow, we had most of the crew, with Trasheer arriving later than evening, via train. The artists had eyed up their walls, prepping them for the big event, assembling their can stashes and tracing outlines. After linking up with everyone by the school, Enzo announced the next occasion was wine with the Mayor. I’d taken a mid-day nap and was somewhat refreshed, my fellow Americans were a bit groggy but rallied to see the Mayor.
Naturally, the event was at a wine shop. In Horgues, most everything is walkable, and so we strutted over to the plaza, which also contained a bakery, a produce market, and a convenience store which would become the go-to-destination for smokes. This was also conveniently across the street from the Mayor’s office-mansion.
Around 5pm we rendezvoused for the get-together, which was stocked with a variety of farm fresh meats and cheeses, something we would learn was a staple of Southwestern French get-togethers, and several dozen bottles of wine. We were introduced to Mayor Jean-Michel Segnere, a jovial and affable man, who said we could drop the formality and call him simply Jean-Michel, though we ended up affectionately referring to him as Mr. Mayor.
In attendance were a few local business owners, administrative assistants, and the artist crew. Most of the attendees only spoke French, and so we smiled politely, but as the wine began to flow, everyone warmed to one another, and the group broke into subsets of idle banter. The recurring theme was a general excitement for the weekend, for which the townsfolk had high hopes.
Despite the good spirits, Enzo was feeling the stress of coordinating the crew. To ease his troubles, I volunteered to pick-up Trasheer from Tarbes. MadVaillian hopped in, and we scooped the last artist and returned to the wine mixer. We had a few more snacks as the artists traded stickers with the French, before eventually bringing the crew back to Tarbes for our luggage and dinner. Small city that it was, most restaurants were closing by 9pm, but Enzo found us food, and we hungrily dug into the meal of pork and fries.
We checked in to the Chateau around 11pm, and despite the collective exhaustion, we toured the ornate furnishings. A mix of new world amenities and old-world charm, the house had been restored from the 12th century and was shadowed by a castle where the owners lived. Nestled beside a creek and removed from the main road, the chateau had the peculiar sensibility of ‘Southern France,’ (though with our focus on the festival we didn’t have much time to appreciate all the luxuries.) Couples claimed the upstairs rooms, with Vanessa and I’s overlooking the mountains. After the beds had been settled, we fell into a restful slumber, perhaps the last of the trip.
The Day Before
Friday before the festival was a mix of excitement and apprehension. Enzo in particular was stretched thin. Though he wanted to paint, he was busy with preparations; organizing the items for the raffle, gathering supplies, communicating with the vendors, and serving as the waypoint between the artistic crew and the mayor’s office. The Mayor had expressed concerns to Enzo we hadn’t done enough to hype up the event, as well as worries that the artists would finish their walls before the festival (for which the Mayor wanted the town to watch the process.) As such, our orders were to hurry up and wait.
The artists worked on their sketches and items for the raffle, while Doums and I worked on some promo material. I put on my best ‘influencer’ face, and gave a run-through of the prepared weekends activities, highlighting our multinational art squad. After a few takes we were set, hoping it would appeal to both the townsfolk and the Mayor. As Doums dutifully noted to Enzo, without prior footage it was hard to make promotional material beforehand. When the video went live on Facebook, it racked up over 3000 views, so it seemed we had hit the mark.
With time to kill, I went around collected mini-interviews and got to know some of the other artists.
Liza had brought along her family, including her mom and her 12-year-old son. Her son, also named Enzo, was an ardent admirer of the art, prowling the walls while the team worked. The young lad was a pre-teen, the age between rebellion and innocence, and he was equally amused by the spray-painting as he was by the bubbles his grandma blew around to keep him occupied while his mom painted. For her wall, Liza was sketching a detailed portrait of a woman holding a dandelion, as its petals floated gently in the wind. Augmented the mural, she added on a 3D element by rafting flowers the women’s crown. An artist who’d been painting for ten years, she had a slew of commission under her belt but rarely had the chance to display her on creative freedom. “I like the universe of feminine faces, bodies, feminine energy. Creativity is like flowers, they grow and they blossom.”
Though Liza was excited for the festival, she was nervous about finishing her mural, a concern shared by Vanessa, as they were unsure how much time there would be to paint once the guests arrived.
Meanwhile Georgia had her own doubts to dwell with. A natural creative, her foremost form of expression was dancing, and had only entered the realm of painting within the past year. Her wall by the back-end of the school stood nearly 20 feet tall, by far the largest she’d ever attempted. Daunted by the scale, she paced around nervously.
Speaking with Fanny, I learned she had never actually painted a mural before, a source of great anxiety for her. With a wall by the front of the school, she planned to paint an aquatic scene of whales and turtles in shades of blue, eschewing spray in favor of traditional paint. “I love marine animals, and for the blue theme… I felt it would fit well,” she shared.
MadVaillian was also plagued by indecision. Primed to take on one of the biggest walls of the festival, an entire building façade, his initial sketch was a trio of owls. However due to concerns it would take up too many cans, (which were being budgeted to account for the crowd to paint) and the worry that it may come across too similar to Calicho’s work (who had adopted Flaco as a recurring muse) he changed his mind. In a last-minute switch-up, he decided instead to paint his iconic Mickey Mouse rollers. (To assist, Vanessa and I went on a mission to get him some red & yellow house paint, made slightly more difficult by our inability to speak French, but one we accomplished all the same.)
As the day came to a close, there was still a nervous tremor running through the team, but the growing excitement helped to dwarf the doubts.
Calm Before The Storm
I woke up groggy and fighting a hangover. The night before had been the team kick-off barbecue, with all the artists, volunteer staff, and the Mayor in attendance at the pool beside our chateau. At the party, there’d been speeches, a feast of meat, bottles on bottles of wine, and a chance to meet some of the other organizers and event personnel such as Benjamin ‘Benji’ Boniface and Sebastien Mouledous, two genial men who had supervised many of the logistical matters for the schedule. Also in attendance was Lucas Alard, the announcer for the festival.
The night had evolved from formal get-together to an all-ages-rager, with copious shots poured, dancing and shenanigans, carrying on well past 2am. MadVaillian and I were two of the last to slink off to bed, and consequently were the last ones to arrive for call time the morning of the festival.
During the party, I’d been chatting with Liza about the potential obstacles that might arise, and referred to our crew as the guinea pigs. Confused, she asked me to explain. “Guinea pigs are like, small rodents… that scientists do experiments on. It’s like an expression meaning, we’re the test subjects to see what works.” I said trying to translate the joke. Though, it was a joke with a ring of truth.
By 1pm, we were all but ready for the 2pm start time. Vanessa, Enzo, and I had retrieved the festival shirts and artist placards from the Mayor’s office; we’d arranged the raffle items on stone pedestals in the back garden for observation with the tombola menu erected; the pallet canvases for guests to paint on were established, and rows of spray cans were neatly set up for easy access; the music booth manned by DJ Antho Pok’, was arranged at the top of the staircase overlooking the primary pavilion; the wine truck and food vendors were parked and prepping; the parking lot had it’s barricades, with staff to guide guests down the street and the ticket booth ready at the front. We we’re set to go, and as ready as we could be.
As I ambled around, checking on the artists to see if they needed any water or last-minute help, I chatted briefly with Benji. “I think this is, what you say, the calm before the storm,” he joked.
Soon, the storm came. A trickle of curious children and bemused parents, arriving in sets of 3, 4, and 5s, soon became a deluge of enthusiastic guests and participants. The estimated total guests for the entire weekend was 500 people, a number that was surpassed by the second hour. We were quickly overwhelmed.
While we had planned out the scheduled events, the particulars in between hadn’t been thoroughly discussed, and as such we scrambled like guinea pigs. Lines of children looking to have their shirts painted and hats signed formed around Enzo, Liza, and MadVaillian; Vanessa and Calicho tried teaching kids how to use spray-paint the alcove where the cans were sprayed, but eager offspring unwilling to wait their turn started grabbing cans and hitting the designated walls, and as those walls filled, started spraying every surface they could without getting in trouble – the pavilion was filled colored rocks and graffitied debris. Excited playground screams mingled with the DJs steady beats, as Luca sounded off from the stage, making announcements and calls for guests to partake in the raffle.
A few hours in, Enzo called a huddle to bring order to the madness. We were instructed to ensure no child was allowed a can without an artist to supervise, and to prioritize the guests over tending to the walls. Following the powwow, we got more organized with the festival volunteers stepping up to assist artists in managing the spray-crazed kids, Camille the Boss-Lady stood guard by Enzo to manage the signing line, while the Mayor set-out to restock the rapidly depleting cache of cans.
Prime Time
By primetime, we’d gotten a better handle on things and the official program began. At 5pm the choregraphed dance kicked off, with the troupe Le Renc’art de la Danse led by Marine, split into 2 sets; one of adults and one of children, all draped in white fabric. The artists had trained for the moment, waiting for the sign – when the beat paused, the dancers froze as the team rushed out to paint their garments in colorful abstract designs to the roar of the pack, by this point nearly a 1,000 people.
Amidst the action, I bobbed and weaved through the throng, jotting down notes as part of my journalistic duties and doing my best to be of use, bringing water, food, and beer to the artists. When needed, I stepped in to assist some of the younger kids on the practice panels, showing them the basics of can control. Intermittently, I linked up with Lucas and fed him information on the artists, sharing their background and stories for him to relay to the crowd in French.
Lucas called raffle winners to participate in the first art battle alongside the contestants, Calicho and Vanessa. With notes from myself, our host announced the history of their artistic rivalry. Back in New York, both Calicho and Vanessa had competed in the Underground Art League I curate through UP, with two facing off the first year in the finals. That first season the colorful Colombian took home first prize, and then in our third year Vanessa returned for a rematch, winning in an upset. As such, both artists were eager to prove themselves on the French stage.
In designing this rendition of an Art Battle, Enzo took inspiration from Secret Walls, with the competitors given only black and white cans to make their mark on large 8” square panel canvases. The two teams had a few short minutes to confer their plans, before the buzzer sounded and match began. Vanessa and her partner had planned out a dualistic Sun & Moon design, whereas team Calicho opted for a more doodle-esque abstract approach. When the 20-minute time limit hit, the duos stepped back. To gauge the winner, Lucas had the crowd cheer for each piece, volleying back and forth to ascertain whose side was louder. With Vanessa, she had split the canvas with her partner so that each had a portion, whereas Calicho’s doodle-ism blended his work with the amateur volunteer. In the end, Calicho’s strategy won-out, with Lucas granting him the win, as all 4 contestants took a bow in front of the enthusiastic gathering.
The remaining hours of the first day began to fly by, as we found our tempo under the Pyrenees and raffles were called out for the tombola. Rotating between helping the kids, painting the walls, and running the events, the sun slipped below the mountains and the moon rose over the afterparty around 9pm. By the time the lights went up, the festival had clocked over 2000 guests for the day.
Neon lights of effervescent blues filled the school pavilion. With most of the children home for bedtime, the parents took to dancing to Antho Pok’s beats, drinking wine and smoking cigarettes around cocktail table erected around the schoolyard. Vanessa and I had some celebratory beers, chatting with Camille’s family and Enzo’s hometown friends. Wandering the asphalt grounds, we came across one of the staff members busting out his old graff schools, tagging a few throwies on an unused wall on around the corner from Fanny’s piece. We were told the Mayor had given permission for a little free-for-all fun – whether this was true, I don’t know, but Georgia, Calicho, and Thrasheer joined us as we got up with a few silly tags, with the carefree knowledge it would be buffed in the morning.
While the party continued late into the night, Vanessa and I called it early, returning to the chateau to wash up and lay down, recouping before the second day.
Sunday
By the time I was lighting my breakfast cigarette with Enzo, Vanessa had already trotted over to the school to knock out a few hours of painting before the festival began again. As we plotted the day, Enzo relayed his plans to work on his wall early as well – while he was happy with the turnout for the first day, he was an artist at heart and made plans to get in the groove and finish his portrait before the end.
The rest of the crew rose slowly and made their way over to the school while I picked up some fruit and baguettes for the team. By the time guests started filtering in, the artists were at work crafting their designs. While not the flood of the before, there was still a steady stream of families coming to see what all the fuss was about, and a few that returned for a second helping of Enz’Horgues.
I manned my place alongside the practice canvas in the center of the pavilion, helping kids paint some basic designs. One the things that struck me was how young some were, with one boy no older than three, looking to his mom for support as she encouraged him to splash some paint. One of the highlights for me was teaching a girl who looked to be about six or seven. At first, she was shy, nervous to paint with the line behind her watching. After a few false-starts, she got a handle on the can and painted a pink smiley-face, smiling as she then returned several more times through-out the day, her confidence growing with each go-around.
Around the festival, things were falling into place and during the break, I checked in to see how everyone was doing. Georgia, who herself had been nervous about her large wall, had found her confidence thanks to pointers from Calicho and Enzo. The 20-foot-tall pigeon she painted was a crowd-favorite, and as I came around the corner, I saw a group snapping shots of her in action, as she balanced atop the ladder adding flourishes to the feathers.
Elsewhere, Fanny was finishing up her mural. Despite working only in shades of blue acrylic, her aquatic still-life was one of the most vividly detailed pieces, accentuated beautifully with teal and aquamarine gradients, created through mixing blue and white. As some of her friends came by to check it out, she beamed proudly with the brightest smile, her face touched with slight splatters of blue.
Vanessa had wrapped her mural, adding in a few small details to help the image pop, accompanied by her young shadow, little Enzo. Liza’s son had set up camp next to Vanessa, borrowing a few cans to paint his skateboard and helmet, to the awe of his young classmates. Across the blacktop, Enzo the artist was atop the scissor-lift, filling in the portrait with neon frills.
Despite the late start, MadVaillian was putting in serious work with his Mickey triptych, when he wasn’t sketching out stencils on shirts and shoes for the youth. Prior to the festival, Enzo and I had been discussing how everyone would do with the family interactions. I’d wondered how’d MadVaillian would do – while I never doubted his artistic merit, given his graffiti background, sliding through the night to paint in the shroud of darkness, I wasn’t sure how he’d be with kids. I was delightfully wrong. MadVaillian was a crowd favorite, with some of the longest lines of children excited to get tagged by Doombot Mice.
Even outside the lines, kids and parents both were keen to take home souvenirs of the experience, collecting signatures from artists like a scavenger hunt at DisneyWorld. At one point, while Trasheer and I were having a beer before his art battle, a man came up and had me sign his socks. Bewildered, I obliged all the same, but when Trasheer went to add his name, the man distractedly wandered off, which got a big laugh out of us.
The dance routine went as smoothly as the first day, but the real hype was for the next set of art battles. The first was a faceoff between Enzo and Trasheer and their respective raffle volunteers. Despite an impressive output by Trasheer, the hometown favorite continued to the next round. The finale was to go down between Calicho and Enzo.
For the Battle Finale, Enzo’s brother Hugo came out display the trophy – a hip-hop stylized chain featuring the festival’s logo. Hugo had recently launched his own jewelry atelier, and Enzo being the family-minded man he is, wanted to make sure he used the festival give his little brother an opportunity to showcase his talent. The bling was good incentive, as the crowd ooo-ed and awed. It was a heated match between the two top-tier artist. When it came to the crowd score, they needed to have both sides go through several rounds of cheering, before the bling and title of champ was awarded to Calicho.
Riding the high, Calicho (with the assistance of Lucas) got the schoolyard stadium to chant his name in staccato unison – “Cal – i – cho! Echoed as he pointed to each side of the gathering. Faces full of smiles, he ruefully told me it was a dream of his to have such a moment.
The Sun Sets on a New Festival
Enz’Horgues was the first of its kind, bringing a mix of family-fun and street art charm to a quiet corner of Southwest France. And by every metric, it was a roaring success. The crowd exceeded expectations by threefold – and while there was some hiccups, in the end the team pulled together and worked through it.
With night descending upon the occasion, the Mayor gathered us all around for a short and sweet speech, gifting the international artists some samples of French delicacies, such as foie gras. As we prepared to return to the chateau, something the official said in French warranted a few boos – confused as to why they would boo our beloved Mr. Mayor, I asked Sebastian what he said, who explained with a wry smile, “he is unable to join the afterparty.” Though as our final bacchanal raged through Sunday’s twilight hours, the Mayor did indeed pop in for a bit of partying.
The day after, as we had a few farewells and teary-eyed goodbyes, Enzo led the artist crew on a trip up the Pyrenees to the zoo, much to Calicho’s delight. Compared to the breakneck pace of the weekend, Monday’s sojourn surrounded by animals was a supremely relaxing end to the trip. We had all had a good laugh when MadVaillian picked up a goat in the petting zoo and tried to hand it to our host & curator, claiming, “cus’ you’re the G.O.A.T.!” Enzo was laughing so hard tears rolled down his face.
Horgues may not appear on many major maps, but it has a charm unseen anywhere else in the world. The sleepy farm village gave life to one of the most vibrant and original art festivals of our age, with plans already in motion for the second edition (rumored to be orange theme…) While Horgues may not be known for its creative scene, over a thousand children had the opportunity to try at Enz’Horgues, and I have no doubt within a few years there will be dozens of young artists blossoming in the rural hills of Southwest France.
T.K. Mills is the Editor-in-Chief of UP Magazine, a street art publication based in New York City. After receiving a Master’s Degree in Global Affairs, he discovered a love for graffiti while backpacking through Cuba and pursued life as a writer. Outside of UP, T.K. enjoys writing poetry, personal travel essays, and occasionally short stories. His work has been published in The Smart Set, The Vignette Review, Genre Urban Arts, and Eternal Remedy among others. Beyond art, T.K. loves reading and traveling.