How is it that you’re not afraid to think BIG?

The trick is to be fearless. I ventured into large-scale art pretty early, while still in college. A few friends and I started a summer mural-painting business, and a local businessman hired us to paint a 15,000 m² Alpine mural on an unused nuclear power plant. We were young, carefree, and excited, working with cranes, sky lifts, and cherry pickers out in the open air. The interaction with the audience—watching their reactions in real-time—was incredibly rewarding.

The secret to such large-scale projects is to create a positive work environment and ensure the client handles the paperwork. If I had to spend all my time dealing with permits and bureaucracy, I’d never have the energy to bring these ideas to life.

Is using local materials a BIG deal for you?

Yes, absolutely. Site-specific materials help the local community feel connected to the work. Right now, I’m creating Dead Fly for the Day of the Dead festival in Mexico, using traditional papel picado—the colorful paper decorations that everyone recognizes and associates with the event.

In Brazil, I used flip-flops to create Fat Monkey because they are so deeply embedded in everyday Brazilian culture. Similarly, for The Big Yellow Rabbit in Sweden, we used locally produced wooden shingles.

When people see familiar materials used in unexpected ways, they feel a personal connection to the work—and sometimes, even join in the creative process.

If no one were allowed to take pictures of your work, would that be a BIG deal?

That’s an interesting question! I’ve actually thought about creating a mole sculpture with a blacked-out interior, forcing visitors to crawl inside on their hands and knees—completely disconnected from their surroundings. No cameras, no phones—just pure, unfiltered experience.

But honestly, I love that people share my work online. The internet and social media help spread the joy and creativity to audiences who may never see it in person. So if no one else were around to take pictures, I’d probably snap a few myself.

Is demolishing your work as BIG an event as building it?

Absolutely. Taking the sculptures down is part of the process.

There’s a video online of Lookout Rabbit being dismantled after a year on display. They brought in a crane and cut off its head—a bittersweet moment that felt like watching an old friend go away. Similarly, the demolition of Beukelsblauw became a local curiosity. A company with a blue-and-orange logo handled the teardown, and I accidentally painted over their distinct orange stripe—thinking it was graffiti. They thought I was crazy, but it gave the process a playful twist.

Demolition is just as important as creation because it restores the public space to its original form. The absence of the artwork makes people appreciate what was once there, creating a lasting impression.

I’ve seen activists collect signatures to keep installations in place. But I always remind them: “Missing the art is part of the journey.”