On his Instagram, Nick Flatt asks us, in the caption of two canvases painted to look as if they were on fire, sporting the Nike logo, “Branding is to reality as…?” As a photorealistic artist, Flatt purports to honor what is real in the tangible sense of the word; he uses existing images to create his art. While a great talent in itself, a photorealistic piece needs a point of view to power it – Flatt uses familiar imagery to draw in the viewer while explicitly stating his opinion. An ad against ads.
“I was in my early thirties and I was super competitive and I said I was going to make the most realistic painting on the street ever. That was the idea.”
The reach of advertising in the name of capitalism is inevitable and vast. Regardless of where you are, you are undoubtedly familiar with the beauty standard perpetuated by commercial mass appeal – white, thin, inevitably attractive, typically female.
“I was in my early thirties and I was super competitive and I said I was going to make the most realistic painting on the street ever. That was the idea.”
Street art is a form of rebellion against these standards and how humans are turned into commodities and brainwashed into consumerism. It is a facet of the urban art genre to throw the messaging right back into the faces of fast fashion, celebrity sensationalism, big pharma, and other exploitative marketplaces. Flatt and his collaborators have made their contribution to the collective disillusionment of us consumers, boldly wielding a brush to make it known.
Nick Flatt puts on blast the overused tropes insultingly placed in front of us packaged as if they weren’t insidious cliches and stereotypes. While advertising tries to subvert our subconscious with bullshit claims, Flatt blatantly states his issues with celebrity culture, consumerism, and conspicuous consumption.
With artwork titles such as Blow Me, Class War, and Fuck Religion, you don’t even have to see his art to know Nick Flatt’s point of view. But the who behind them may be a mystery to some.
Nick Flatt grew up in Denton, Texas, exposed to the same mass media as the rest of the western world, and thrived on the encouragement his art brought him from friends and family. He used what was available to him to hone his craft: photographs, magazines, and JC Penny’s catalogs. The content that he would later call out for its use of impossible beauty standards to sell panties, for example, was a foundation for his artistic training. Building on his natural talent, Flatt would go to the San Francisco Academy of Art until demand in the local art scene allowed him to drop out to work professionally.
Nick Flatt’s street art career reached new heights during his time in Berlin, Germany. He had only previously completed one large-scale street mural in Los Angeles, California, before moving continents, a piece he worked on with artist Cryptik based on an original photograph of Andy Warhol holding an American flag. In his origins, he is an oil on canvas guy, and while having dabbled in larger 6’ x 8’ format pieces, he was only beginning his journey of painting anything massive on cement, brick, or wood.
Upon moving to Berlin, Germany, Flatt heard that there was a former NSA spy station just outside the city in Teufelsberg, with space galore curated specifically for artists to leave their mark. This would be his next foray into street art and a meet-cute situation with a talented graffiti writer Paul Punk. On the insistence of the curator for Teufelsberg at the time, Flatt was introduced to Punk, and they kindled their friendship flame from then on. The two would eventually exhibit their show Doom at BSMT Space in London in 2016, combining the photorealism of Flatt and the iconic graffiti lettering of Punk to create some volatile and explicit in-your-face social commentary.
The mural Nick Flatt painted in collaboration with Paul Punk at Teufelsberg in 2015 was of a woman, an art school friend biting her middle finger with various versions of “Fuck [insert provocative statement here].” “Fuck Cocaine,” “Fuck the NSA,” “Fuck Imperialism,” “Fuck Borders,” you get the picture. Called “Fuck All,” the piece took about two weeks to complete, and Flatt recalls the happy memories, despite it being the middle of winter. “We were still thinking of fucks to write, so we started letting some passersby say some things they didn’t like, and we would pick the ones we liked from that… it was a fun, engaging way to do it. We were out of fucks to give, so we figured we’d outsource some.”
“We were still thinking of fucks to write, so we started letting some passersby say some things they didn’t like, and we would pick the ones we liked from that… it was a fun, engaging way to do it. We were out of fucks to give, so we figured we’d outsource some.”
In my discussions with Nick Flatt, we touched upon the changing perceptions of political correctness and how that has influenced his art. A piece of his from 2015 depicts a topless woman in blackface, wearing a Native American headdress, holding a coke can with the word “Freedom” painted on her chest. The piece is called “Founded on Genocide, Built on Slavery, Drink Coke.” He’s not sure if he would do something that transgressive now, but in a world where public perception can mean making rent that month or not, it is understandable that the caution of provoking public backlash might curtail an artist’s message.
“I wasn’t so sensitive to everything, but I think there’s been a big wave of PC explosion since then; my stuff is kind of racy.”
Teufelsberg was just the beginning of Flatt’s European whirlwind, and for about six years, he travelled the continent and tore up the proverbial sidewalk with his paintbrush. Big, bold, bright lettering and an attractive and dangerously powerful-looking model front and center. She might be wearing a ski mask with Mickey Mouse ears and nothing else or be bare-chested in a motorcycle jacket. Flatt perfectly recreates images that emanate what you would see in a fashion magazine or billboard – because society is trained to gravitate towards them – and then puts his own spin on it.
“I wasn’t so sensitive to everything, but I think there’s been a big wave of PC explosion since then; my stuff is kind of racy.”
As art and artists are want to do, Flatt’s style and subject matter evolved, and he started doing more abstract work. Equally as eye-catching and beautiful, these pieces feel like glossified street art. The techniques are recognizable yet seem to be made by a computer instead of a human hand. Shading and shapes that harken back to his urban art murals with edges just a little more defined and intensified. Like a puddle with an oil slick, they’re dark and prismatic.
Flatt’s stint in Europe would eventually lead him full circle back to his college town of San Fransisco, CA, where he cultivated a solo show to open in early 2020. The exhibition at 111 Minna Gallery was called CANCELLED and explored the PC movement, produced in what some might consider the epicenter of PC culture.
“The show itself was very subtle and way less provocative. The MeToo movement was strong, and I felt that as a white dude saying stuff, I needed to edit myself. Once I felt the internal turmoil of what I am trying to say and why reflected back by society, I knew it was time to change things professionally.”
Opening day was March 6, 2020, and with an unfortunate hint of self-prophecy, the show was canceled due to the emergence of COVID-19. As many of us had to do, Flatt pivoted slightly as the world was in lockdown and taught himself UX design – which he now does full-time for Buyers Club San Fransisco in California as a Marketing Director. Flatt and a friend also started Short & Fat Conglomerate, and together, they make 3D content that they sell to cannabis companies.
“Once I felt the internal turmoil of what I am trying to say and why reflected back by society, I knew it was time to change things professionally.”
With a wink of irony, and his son on his lap, the anti-ad man is happy to be where he is, assisting in the design and branding of a product and exploring new creative ventures. Flatt is just as excited to share his current work, and his tone and composition are carried over into the 3D visuals he is now creating.
“Whenever you do [art] well, people give you good feedback, and so you kept doing it, you know, rinse, repeat. I was at it for about ten years; it’s a grind… but I am creatively fulfilled in this new field. Everything is becoming digitized, even art, so the transition felt right.”
