In Conversation with Zake: The Artist Behind the Walls
Graffiti gave Zake a voice when he had none and turned forgotten walls into stories of strength and hope. Each tag he leaves is a mark of survival, identity, and community.
In this interview, Zake breaks down how he learned to speak through spray cans and why every splash of color matters.
Q: Graffiti is more than just paint on walls, it often carries emotion and identity. What does graffiti mean to you on a personal level, and what do you think people miss when they only see it as “writing on walls”?
Zake: Graffiti came into my life when I had nothing. It gave me a voice and an identity, and suddenly the entire world felt small enough for me to conquer.
I couldn’t believe that by simply writing my name—‘Zake’—I could become street famous; everyone knew I existed, even if they’d never seen my face.
It takes countless years in chaotic, public spaces—far removed from the safety of a studio to build the confidence and skill required to paint freely.
When most artists work indoors, they’re shielded from life’s noise; I paint amid traffic, cameras, and constant threats of interruption.
People often overlook that even a single ‘tag’ is the result of practice and precision, almost like a form of calligraphy wielded with a spray can. There’s far more to graffiti than meets the eye.
Q: Let’s go back to your very first piece—what was it, where was it, and what was running through your mind as you painted your name for the first time?
Zake: I actually started with stencils, since spray cans were daunting and there was almost no guidance on how to use them.
My very first artwork was of a boy sitting with his head down—an expression of the sadness and anger I felt growing up in the slums.
When that image hit the wall, I experienced a surge of achievement; it felt like I’d been heard for the first time. In that moment, I thought, maybe I could be someone’s superhero.
Q: In a country like India, where public space is so contested, how do you navigate the tension between artistic freedom, legality, and how the public sees your work?
Zake: In India, loopholes are a lifesaver—you learn to bend the law where you can. If the government maintained walls properly, there’d be far less chance to paint over.
Lately, I’ve seen cities allowing commissioned artists to paint bridges and flyovers, but those gigs often go to inexperienced painters under tight creative constraints. Everywhere else, walls are plastered with ads and posters, making legal spots scarce and competition fierce.
I’m always scouting for fresh walls—under bridges or along train tracks—though cameras make night runs risky. Over time, I’ve developed the kind of confidence that lets me paint boldly in broad daylight, even if it’s technically illegal.
Surprisingly, when people catch me painting, they often end up respecting the work rather than reporting me.
Q: Many creatives struggle with surviving versus thriving. How have you balanced artistic integrity with the need to earn, especially in a niche like this?
Zake: It’s a constant struggle since art is an expensive job to do, so I had to be sure I was good at it by a young age.
There is definitely a battle between how true you can be to the culture versus what people around you like. Graffiti is an acquired taste, and it will take time for people to take notice and evolve their taste to consume it.
All being said, there’s still a lot of opportunity out there since there aren’t a lot of people doing it. I think the fact that it gave me a life is what keeps me motivated to not stop.
Q: In India, most people don’t grow up seeing graffiti as a viable career. How did your family, friends, or community react to your path, and how has that evolved over time?
Zake: No one wants to see you hungry and struggling. Graffiti is risky, and early on I had to expand my style—taking on projects far beyond my comfort zone to make ends meet.
I never painted thinking I’d get paid; I painted so I could be heard. For years, my parents and peers thought I was chasing a fool’s dream—until I became the talk of the town.
Now I see younger artists inspired to dream bigger because they know someone like me made it out of the slums.
Q: Every artist carries a bit of those who came before them. Who are some graffiti artists— from India or around the world—who’ve really shaped your vision or inspired you at different stages of your journey?
Zake: Zine from Mizoram and Bond from Germany really shaped my vision.
I didn’t take much from them visually but learned from the way they navigated the graffiti world. Their existence helped me discover my true self—my individuality, my taste, and how to express it through graffiti.
It takes years to understand that movement is a huge part of this art form, and I was lucky to learn from such experienced people along the way.
Q: Despite the odds, you’ve built a recognisable name for yourself. How did you go about creating opportunities, building your brand, and finding collaborators or clients in a space that barely existed?
Zake: I came up before social media took off, so going out and painting in public—rather than just posting backyard walls online—helped me connect with real people.
Just like billboards grab attention on busy streets, my murals got noticed by passersby, brands, and fellow artists. I collaborated across neighbourhoods and backgrounds, and clients began seeking me out because I delivered on my promises.
Staying authentic to the art and forging genuine connections opened doors I never imagined.
Q: When someone sees a Zake piece on a wall—maybe for just a second on a passing train or during a late-night walk—what do you hope they feel, or take away from that moment?
Zake: As a kid, spotting graffiti was like discovering a secret escape—an emotional beat that hit like a great song.
In a city plastered with ads, graffiti is a breath of fresh air: art by the people, for the people, asking for nothing but love in return.
I can’t dictate exactly how someone should feel, reactions vary, but I hope they pause long enough to appreciate this new form. And if you ever see a writer at work, try offering a drink or a kind word instead of questioning why they’re there.
From the slum-born stencils to towering murals on Mumbai’s busiest bylanes, Zake’s journey reminds us that graffiti isn’t just an art form—it’s a lifeline, a megaphone, and a celebration of unfiltered expression.
As you roam your own city streets, pause when you spot a splash of color on concrete: look beyond the paint, feel the beats of someone’s story, and remember that every tag carries the heartbeat of its creator.
Dive deeper into this vibrant world—seek out local walls, support your neighbourhood artists, and share your discoveries. After all, the next masterpiece could be waiting just around the corner.
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