Shepard Fairey, the name synonymous with the OBEY GIANT art campaign, emerged from the 1980s subculture to challenge visual norms and public spaces. His iconic work, featuring the face of André the Giant, has become a global phenomenon, sparking conversations about propaganda, advertising, and the power of visual language, themes often explored within the pages of Tattoo Magazines and street art publications alike. This interview, originally conducted in March 1999 by Chris Nieratko, delves into the origins of OBEY, Fairey’s artistic philosophy, and the impact of his work, offering insights relevant to anyone interested in the intersection of art, culture, and visual communication, topics frequently highlighted in tattoo magazines.
Chris Nieratko: How did this all begin?
Shepard Fairey: It really started in 1989. I was looking for a simple image to teach a friend, Eric Pupeki, how to make stencils. I found an ad for wrestling with André the Giant’s picture in the newspaper. We just started laughing at it, and it became a mascot for our skateboarding group, our “posse.” We came up with “OBEY GIANT HAS A POSSE.” It was quick, maybe ten minutes at Kinko’s to photocopy it. It just resonated with people. They were curious, wondering what it was about. It was funny, and visually striking, easily recognizable even from a distance. We began putting them up everywhere in Providence. I remember hearing people talk about it in public, and that’s when I realized it had power, and I should explore that.
Alt text: Early OBEY GIANT stickers by Shepard Fairey showcasing Andre the Giant’s face, a foundational image in street art culture and a subject of interest in tattoo magazines.
CN: Were you a big wrestling fan growing up? Why André?
SF: I was a little into wrestling when I was around ten, but it wasn’t a deep passion. Choosing André was random luck. It was just the image I found in the newspaper ad when I was showing Eric how to cut stencils. The humor of it, and the visual impact of his face, that’s what grabbed us. It was meant to be this mascot for our skate crew. “Obey Giant has a Posse” became our tag. The primitive graphic quality made it work. You could see it from far away and still know what it was. That simplicity is powerful, something you see echoed in bold tattoo designs featured in tattoo magazines.
CN: You’ve been called a “visual terrorist.” Have you been arrested often?
SF: I’ve been arrested five times. For a while, I was lucky, from ’89 to ’95, never arrested. The first time was for a billboard. I covered the future mayor of Providence’s face with a huge André head. That was just bad luck because his daughter knew someone who knew I did it. Providence is small. But I didn’t get much trouble for that. Later, it got worse. My first real arrest was in Providence for stickers at the X-Games course. I’d put a big stencil on the luge course, thinking it’d be filmed from above, but they only filmed at street level. I was annoyed! So, I started putting stickers over Taco Bell signs.
The Rhode Island School of Design security really hated me. The stickers were a nuisance for them to remove. It was mostly other people putting them up, kids who knew me. But they saw me as Public Enemy Number One. One guard saw me and called the Providence cops and X-Games security. Six cop cars showed up, all for a little black and white sticker. I spent a night in jail. After that, Long Beach in ’96. My luck ran out that year. I was putting up posters, a bus driver called the cops. Another night in jail, $250 to get out. Then Philly. People were after me there. Newspaper articles about the André stuff had come out. These “visual anti-citizens” were hunting for “that André guy.” Someone with a cell phone called me in. A couple of days in Philly jail, which was bad because I’m diabetic, and they take your insulin, considering the needle a weapon. I got sick.
Alt text: Image depicting Shepard Fairey’s arrests related to his street art activities, highlighting the tension between public expression and legal boundaries, a theme relevant to discussions in tattoo magazines about artistic freedom.
The worst was in New York. Giuliani’s “quality of life” campaign meant they were cracking down on graffiti. I was in SoHo, putting up posters, and unmarked cars pulled up – graffiti task force guys. They knew graffiti magazines, and they knew my work. “Isn’t this stuff from Rhode Island?” They asked. “We’ve seen it all over the city. What’s your involvement? Are you a disciple?” I joked, “Yeah, I’m a disciple.” But they found 80 posters, cargo pants full of 300 stickers, stencils, spray adhesive, paint. I was moving to California, trying to leave a major impression on New York.
They said, “We don’t think you’re a disciple, we think you’re the guy. Tell us the truth and we’ll let you go.” A lie, of course. I admitted it. Downtown, they talked felony charges. Two days in jail, no insulin, I got really sick, rushed to the hospital. Ironically, that helped me. They rushed the trial, not wanting a lawsuit if I got sick again. The judge just saw “first arrest, possession of a tool of criminal mischief – spray paint.” My public defender got me time served. I walked out. Now, I’m extra careful in New York. San Diego, where I live now, is also after me. They emailed my website, which I had to shut down, saying they wanted to find me.
CN: Do you see yourself as a graffiti artist or a fine artist?
SF: I see what I do as more than just graffiti. It has, I hope, a greater social relevance than most straight graffiti, though I am into being punk and antagonistic, like many graffiti artists. But I think it’s more provocative than tagging. I never even did graffiti writing. Spray paint stencils are the closest thing, because you can get them up fast and they’re pretty permanent. This idea of accessible, impactful art resonates with the spirit found in many forms of visual expression, including the bold imagery often celebrated in tattoo magazines.
CN: What about the new wrestler “The Giant”?
SF: With André’s popularity, they want to reincarnate someone to take his place. Like Billy Crystal’s movie, “My Giant.” André has many fans, even after death. People are trying to build on that. But it’s lame. André’s appeal wasn’t just his size, but his acting, “The Princess Bride,” his funny look. Many aspects made him lovable. But I’ve moved beyond just his image. I’ve simplified the face so much that many people don’t even know it’s André. I’m making it a universal Big Brother icon, not just about wrestling. It’s more propaganda than a reference to André per se, because that has limited reach. The longer he’s gone, the less relevant that becomes. It was a funny starting point, but the graphics are the strength now.
CN: You started with rip-off graphics and evolved. Explain that evolution.
SF: It began as a joke. As it grew, negative reactions surfaced, even though it was harmless. That made me want to be more antagonistic. Initially, I wanted to associate André with funny, familiar things – Flash Gordon, Jimi Hendrix, Sid Vicious, Gene Simmons icons. I briefly touched on religion after André died with commemorative shirts, a crown of thorns. Then I realized there are two ways to make people like something. Associate it with things they like, or make people like it because people they hate dislike it. If conservatives hate it, then rebels like it, even if they don’t know what it means. The propaganda stuff, people scared of the unknown, conservatives and authoritarians who want control, they hate it. It’s a “wrench in the spokes of society” to them. Their dislike makes others like it. They think, “I don’t know what it is, but it says ‘fuck the system,’ so I love it.” That’s powerful.
As a graphic artist, it’s easy to rework existing things, but even clever changes get stale. For my fine art ambition, I want more graphically challenging work. Propaganda is more rewarding. It’s a more extreme direction. It keeps evolving. Humor is important. People should see the humor in everything. Even in the Stalin or Lenin graphics, it’s not serious. You can’t put André’s face next to a communist leader and expect people to think, “Communist, dead wrestlers should take over the world.” Some people react negatively to the colors, automatically thinking it’s bad. Ironically, they’re bombarded with Marlboro ads using the same colors, but they don’t get upset about that. They should fear Marlboro more than a dead wrestler. I’m now making fun of propaganda and advertising, using the same techniques. The propaganda thing started because I wanted larger scale street posters. My friend taught me to rig copiers for free copies, 11” x 17”, spot colors – red or blue. I used bold images with red and black because I could run prints twice, once with each color, loose registration, and get posters. Free. 500 a night. Later, I screen-printed 18” x 24” ones, multiple sizes, but billions of disposable, free ones for the street. Screen-printing street posters is time-consuming and expensive. My budget dictated black, white, and red aesthetics. But it made sense. I was already going that way. Convenient convergence of factors. That’s when OBEY came about. In my video, I use scenes from “They Live,” a conspiracy movie where authoritarians are aliens seen only with sunglasses. Advertisements say OBEY. I thought it was a funny metaphor for the insidious presence of André stickers, not physically undermining anything, but annoying to those who want order. OBEY is reverse psychology; it means DISOBEY. Cool reactions are “fuck off” or “dis” written on the posters. That’s what I want – to move people to action, or at least think differently, much like the impactful visuals found in tattoo magazines that provoke thought and inspire creativity.
CN: Does André’s face support your living?
SF: Not really. I struggled in Rhode Island. Expensive to live, make art, ship it, advertise. But I got my work seen. When I moved west and started Black Market design firm with partners, people wanted me for graphics because they liked the Giant stuff. Giant alone never sustained me, but it fed the design business, which does. Indirectly, Giant was pivotal. We do skateboard companies, but also the Specials album cover, Suicide Machines, DJ Spooky, Harper Collins book covers, Sierra Club graphics. Bad Religion had me design a tour poster, André’s face on soldiers in front of a burning city. They didn’t care. Biggest corporate thing – the new Mountain Dew can icon, “MD.” 700,000,000 cans. They wanted us because of a Giant video. It’s inside/outside for me. I love Giant, but it doesn’t pay enough. Corporate money goes back into stickers and posters. Where someone buys a sports car, I make more Giant stuff. “Sell-out” is crap. If you have an opinion but no voice, what’s it worth? I do corporate stuff for my reasons. If I don’t do Mountain Dew, someone else will. I don’t mind Mountain Dew. They fund alternative sports. I tried to sneak André’s face into the Mountain Dew can, but they didn’t use our can design, just the icon. That would have been funny, subtle, but on every can. This balance between commercial and artistic endeavors echoes the landscape of tattoo magazines, which often blend advertising with artistic showcases and cultural commentary.
CN: Where is your work heading?
SF: I don’t know. Different things influence me. I’m a pop artist in the basic sense. My surroundings are my base. As I get bored, read, look at new things, my scope changes. I’m visual. Communist propaganda, its message and power, I force myself to learn its motivation, inspiration. I read about it because I don’t want to seem dumb, not knowing my influences. People from German, Cuban, African, Russian cultures criticize me: “You’re mixing stuff, conflicting images.” It doesn’t matter. I’m going for a feeling, not exact politics.
CN: Strange interpretations of the image?
SF: I’ve heard it’s a rock group, a cult, a skateboard company. Early on, a Jewish friend in South Carolina. His parents owned a store. We’d stick André stickers on their window daily. They’d clean them off. They called the police, saying an anti-Semitic group was targeting them. That showed their “persecution complex.” It had nothing to do with anti-Semitism. We were friends with their son. Interesting. Someone wrote “fuck you nazis” on a poster with the star. It’s about reactions to symbols. I’m trying to desensitize people to symbols, they’re too loaded. The star is used by many cultures, politically opposed – Russians, Chinese, Americans, rebel flag. The five-pointed star is just a pleasing icon, but use it with red, and people assume you’re communist. Funny how people react to symbols. I want people to think first, react later. I’m just a reactionary. Reacting to what I see, just like people react to Giant. This exploration of symbols and their interpretations is also a recurring theme in tattoo magazines, where the symbolism of various tattoo designs is often discussed and analyzed.
CN: How do you have access to André’s image?
SF: I don’t. I stole it. I got a notice from his estate – no “André the Giant” in images or his face. That’s why I shut down andrethegiant.com and changed to obeygiant.com. WWF owns “OBEY GIANT.” Took them nine years to notice. My website looked official. Wrestling fans hit it up. Someone told WWF. But in recent images, the face is changed enough to avoid copyright infringement. I’ll still make the original sticker, but not sell them or put the name on clothes, risking lawsuits. Fine art is open. Warhol wasn’t sued for Marilyn Monroe, as long as it was changed enough. I just can’t sell products with “OBEY GIANT.” Now, it’s just “Giant.”
CN: When you see that simple face with sad eyes, what do you see?
SF: What do I see? Just those eyes, piercing. I’m so used to it, it doesn’t often hit me. But sometimes I glance at it, and it’s goofy and ominous. I think, “I’m lucky I stumbled upon this and did something with it,” because it does stick in people’s minds. The lasting impact and recognizability of this image is akin to iconic tattoo designs that become instantly recognizable within subcultures and are often featured in tattoo magazines for their cultural significance.
CN: Last words?
SF: Public space for art is a right for every taxpayer. Billboards, while on rented property, invade everyone’s visual space. As taxpayers, we should be able to put our own messages out there. Billboards, bus stops, buses – it’s all advertising. It’s saying you can only speak your mind if you have money and are selling something, willing to pay for space. It should be all or nothing. Either no billboards, no ads, or no discrimination against those without money. It’s unethical. Being arrested is ironic because I don’t arrest billboard companies for offensive ads. Most people don’t think about it, but it’s legitimate. This idea of reclaiming public space for art, for visual statements beyond commercial advertising, is a powerful concept that resonates with the DIY ethos of street art and the counter-cultural spirit often found in tattoo magazines.
