Today we’d like to introduce you to Andrew Horner.
Hi Andrew, it’s an honor to have you on the platform. Thanks for sharing your story with us – to start, maybe you can share some of your backstory with our readers.
I am the first born of what became a family of seven fiercely resilient, united kids. My father has always been an embodiment of ceaseless service, persistence, and, uniquely, adrenaline. Not the kind of “recreational” adrenaline use most of us are familiar with – I’m talking literal, actual, never-not-flowing, adrenaline-spiked blood (and by literally, I don’t mean figuratively.). It was ever present, much like the colossal mountain of medical debt our family was perpetually beneath. Our reality was channeled through a stringent adherence to Mormonism – People think Mormons are strict, Mormons thought my family was strict. My beginnings trace back to Tucson, and my childhood was spent on the fringe of the Arizona-Mexico divide in Sierra Vista.
As a kid, I found freedom on my bike, traversing tunnels of graffiti without realizing that each mark was a testament to an unseen person, and an unseen culture. Graffiti was the anti-souvenir, something left behind. I began leaving my mark using White-out.
When I turned 12, my family relocated to the town of Rigby, Idaho, population – barely 2000 at the time. My high school life was a dance between watching over my siblings, engaging in church programs, sports, and work. I worked on farms, in restaurants, a local ski resort, and landscaping. My passions were varied, from snowboarding to paintballing, dreaming of being an architect, but amidst this, my propensity to sketch and tag things persisted.
In high school, my M.O. of engulfing desktops with doodles earned me a unique reputation, sparking a flurry of conversations around graffiti. My yearning for solitude from the chaos of my vibrant household made me really appreciate my long drives home from work. I’d pull off the highway to kill a few cans expressing my humor on concrete with spray paint, sometimes even rearranging highway construction equipment to add a little extra zest to the landscape.
College saw me painting in my sanctuary – a four story warehouse near a train yard. One particular night, under the influence of nothing but my own thoughts (Remember, I was a Mormon!), a sense of euphoria cascaded over me. The mental pyramid that had been dictating my life, topped by, in my mind, the leaders of the country, church, school, and companies, suddenly collapsed. I realized I wasn’t at the bottom of anyone’s totem pole, and didn’t need to seek approval for access to freedom. The world of graffiti had no gatekeepers. This liberation led me to want more than just pranks; I wanted to master the art form. The moniker Color Cartel was birthed, an umbrella for all the pseudonyms I would ever use as a graffiti writer and artist.
Shortly after this revelation, I met Nikki, the love of my life, my partner in graffiti, and my motorcycle-riding companion. Six months of whirlwind romance later, we were married between semesters of college.
Post-graduation (Majoring in Economics and minoring in Math), we moved to Austin, where I had been offered an opportunity in Economics-themed media. However, a serendipitous invitation to do a solo art show at Texas A&M three months into my new job changed the trajectory of my career. The show was a tremendous success, and my love for Economics as a career paled in comparison to my newfound passion for art.
I spent hundreds and hundreds of hours mining Craigslist for gigs nationwide, but it soon became clear that I needed a more substantial approach. Fortune favored my persistence, and I soon began mural work for boutique hotels. My style underwent an evolution, from a funky cartoon vibe to elegance laced with an edge. I honed my ability to weave an atmosphere and mood into a space, worked with world-class designers, and understood contracts. I recognized that my murals were being sold for many times more than my original price by those with a much higher level of professionalism in their operation, and my works were getting international attention without credit.
This revelation led to the metamorphosis of Color Cartel into my personal agency, preparing me to deal with clients directly and professionally, while remaining independent. I bought a Lotus and took to high-performance track driving. This new hobby taught me the importance of relentless focus, learning from mistakes without berating oneself, and the sheer power of concentration – lessons that deeply influenced my work, my subjects, and my life as a husband and father to two daughters.
Walking away from the LDS faith has also had a profound impact on my work. It served as a nuanced announcement of my reluctance to leave the faith and my genuine intentions. This transition manifested in my art through raw, sincere, unpretentious details that remained unpolished, untamed, and faithful to my heart and mind. I imagined it would go unappreciated, but I had something to say, and a particular way I wanted to express it visually. It connected both conceptually and aesthetically with people, to my surprise, and I felt a new level of freedom and trust in my intuition.
I’m sure you wouldn’t say it’s been obstacle free, but so far would you say the journey has been fairly smooth?
Navigating the challenges of my career hasn’t been a walk in the park, but it’s certainly made me tougher and wiser. Creating a sustainable business from my art has been like trying to fix a ship while it’s sailing – it’s a trick. And art in itself. But one thing’s for sure: there’s always room for major improvement, and that pushes me to keep learning and avoid repeating mistakes.
When I first moved to Austin, I was undoubtedly a poor cultural fit for the local graffiti and street art communities. I was a straight-edged Mormon oddball, probably putting off some pretentious vibes, and and my art wasn’t perhaps well enough developed to earn the respect of my peers. So my beginning a career at all brought me a lot of criticism. I don’t fault anyone for raising an eyebrow at me, but I was going for it anyway. I struggled to find good work in mural painting. So, I figured, why limit myself to one city? There were opportunities across the country if I looked hard enough. It was a major struggle trying to balance what clients wanted with what I wanted to create, and with what mixed bag of criticism and advice I was able to get from other artists. Eventually, I learned to trust myself and my abilities more, and it’s made a world of difference in how I create.
Over the years, I’ve tried my hand at a few other businesses too, from a meetup app for action sports enthusiasts to a mobile car alignment service. I even considered going back to economics. The lockdown in 2020 hit me hard, but when work picked up again, I had a new perspective. When things are slow, it’s a chance to learn something new or improve some aspect of my art or business. It made me realize that art is my path, and there’s so much more I can do to get better. So now, no matter what, I focus on leveling up. Each time the work flows again, I’m bringing that new heat.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
My graffiti signature is “Apse”, a nod to the architectural element found in cathedrals, symbolizing the inherent 3-dimensional artwork created within its domed structure there are layers to this name choice, but we will leave it at that to be concise). I view graffiti as an engagement with the urban landscape rather than the vacuum of a page or canvas. My approach is to embrace the environment, allowing the space to guide my creation. I don’t just want to make something beautiful, I want to light that space on fire.
As an exercise in this vein, I decided to dive deep into the tricky canvases of helmets and sports cars. As a driver/rider you don’t wrestle with the car or motorcycle on track, you dance with it. You work together as a team, as collaborators. And I approach them this way when painting them. Interestingly, some of my most recognized works are not my award-winning hotel murals featured in Architectural Digest, but the 1974 911 RSR I painted in L.A., the replica F1 car I painted in Miami, and the Tesla Semi I painted recently here in Austin. It’s become what I’m known for – and I am proud of that. Taking on these complex canvases is like high-altitude training for athletes; it makes painting flat walls feel like a gentle exercise in comparison, and it enhances my love for creating murals.
My graffiti is a fusion of my respect for the prehistoric tradition, my acknowledgment of the modern form, the personal influences shaped by my experiences and sensitivities, and my optimistic vision. Before graffiti was recognized as an art form, before nations claimed territories, and even before human beings roamed the earth, it was a means of communication. True to its Latin translation as ‘little scratches’, graffiti conveys emotions, humor, and often misspelled words in a simple yet contextually profound way. It provides a voice to the people who once walked those streets, using tools readily available to them. While modern graffiti predominantly employs spray paint, which I absolutely adore, it’s essential not to forget the roots of this form of communication.
What does success mean to you?
Success is living a sustainable life of passion and love.
Pricing:
- Patreon.com/colorcartel is an affordable way for anyone to support us and receive gifts, art, access to our crew’s Discord, and more. Give that look and consider supporting!
- Murals from $5,000
- Canvases and floating walls with murals are available to view and purchase at our studio or online. As are our clothing items.
- Studio experiences, workshops, and team-building activities can be booked through our website, colorcartel.com, usually $90-120/per person.
- Live Painting from $5,000. We can additionally construct and provide our freestanding walls for such events.
Contact Info:
- Website: Colorcartel.com
- Instagram: Instagram.com/colorcartel
- Facebook: Fb.com/colorcartel
- Youtube: Youtube.com/colorcartel
