A “This Is Not Art” Lookback — As Told by Kai

Now that we’ve started sharing where we’re at in the present, it feels like the right time to revisit the journey. “Every step forward deserves gratitude for the foundation that came before it,” is a little motto I remind myself of daily.

August 2009. I was set on creating a piece that would inspire my dad to quit smoking. He both bought in (he quit smoking) and bought the piece for $400. It was my first sale. “Try not to spend the money on anything stupid,” he told me.

Instead, I bought paper, ink, and a few screens. I’d been inspired by a book on graffiti and street art—one I mostly studied through its images. Taking a page from that world, I printed the same message and wheat-pasted it across LA, hoping it might reach someone else. It did. Understandably, some people were offended. Others thanked me. But for the first time, I knew what it meant to say something through art and have people truly feel it.

At the time, I was in high school. I’d been exposed to art my whole life and was learning about the old masters, surrounded by technique, theory, and tradition. I was still early in my own execution, still exploring how to take what I felt and translate it into something real. I didn’t yet have the tools to paint like Rembrandt or sculpt like Rodin.

What I had was urgency, an idea I believed in, and a need to get it out. So, I simplified. I told the story in one frame, which became my ethos as an artist: to simplify and tell a meaningful story. That piece was called Morons. It’s still one people ask about.

Morons became a broader critique on consumerism and addiction—replacing the familiar Marlboro logo with a single, pointed word. This first piece sparked what would later become the Lost Values series: subverting icons, slogans, and systems we’re told to trust.

Since its debut, Morons has taken many forms—on posters, in ornate frames, across walls, and in three dimensions. Each version reflects a different moment in time, but the message has always been the same. It helped shape how I tell stories—direct, emotional, compressed into single frames. That instinct led me to create IF, my imaginary friend and guide.

You’ll see glimpses of Morons throughout this newsletter: early posters, street installs, and a newer impression piece titled “Morons: Strength.” Revisiting this work helps me stay grounded in purpose and remember why I still care. Sixteen years later and my father still doesn’t smoke.

Stay up,
— Kai