“You Have a Piece of Black Art in Your Hands” - A Crowler Art Q&A with Nicole Coleman

By Dan Carlson

It’s hokey as hell to say it, but behind every crowler label there’s a story. And often, it’s a deeply personal one. 

Ferd’s label is a story about healing and recovery. Coca’s label told the story of a young woman who’s proud of the city she grew up in and mourning as it changes into something else. Khalil’s label is about a button-pusher who’s driven to show people there’s always a different side to things.

Our newest crowler label, created by Nicole Coleman, is a story of Black joy radiating in dark times, about being authentically you while being different, and about knowing your value no matter what.

And like all good stories, it’s got zombies.

We talked with Nicole about her journey and mission as an artist, and how she uses her art as a vehicle for hope, positivity, and imagination. Read on to learn more!

Unlike most artists we’ve worked with, you don’t really have an online portfolio. So how would you describe yourself as an artist?

People have been my canvas for the majority of my professional art career. My primary medium is film - I’m a makeup and effects artist and wardrobe and set designer. I try to make film look different and enticing, and create worlds and moods. 

In more traditional art, I’ve been a painter since I was six. I never chose the fine arts as a professional means because filmmaking is much more in my plane of interest. I’ve always been more fascinated in things that people like Tim Burton and Jim Henson put out, which kind of combine fine art within the realm of film. 

I’m getting more into digital design, and murals are something new for me. I’m more used to people coming and seeing my designs and sets. And the fact that I have a crowler is crazy - I started out turning people into vampires and zombies!

I’m sorry, zombies?

I used to be in the halloween horror industry as an FX artist, and one of my first jobs in the industry was at the Halloween Outlet. It was the world’s largest halloween superstore for over 30 years. It started as a smaller shop on Park Ave., and was owned by the Arvanigian family. As a child, I would go there to get costumes for school plays, Halloween, and sometimes things just to play dress up with. It was my favorite place in the world. It was open year round so you could go there anytime, not just in October like most Halloween shops. I’d go in July - my friends would be like “it’s not even Halloween” and I’m like “I don’t care, I love it!”

When I worked there, we’d get props from all over the country, and we made our own sets and props as well. We did it big, with animatronics and all that. It was basically one big attraction, but you could also buy pieces of the sets we created. We were all about being experiential. Most of the haunted hayrides and haunted houses and horror conventions in New England were our regular customers. 

Traditional art was something that I never thought I would be doing. I’m a set designer, so the fact that people like the art that I usually kept for myself was really surprising. Like “oh, really? You like this stuff?” I had done some acrylics and digital design for work but never thought to put my personal projects out into the world. It was just weird stuff that I do because I felt like painting a certain day, but it’s never been my main focus.

How did you get started as an artist?

I started taking classes at the Worcester Art Museum when I was 7 or 8. I took calligraphy because parents were adamant I would have good penmanship. I guess they didn’t know computers were going to be the way we’d all eventually communicate. 

Also, my mom was a clown. It wasn’t her main job, but her passion. I think back to being super little and seeing my mom’s big red clown shoes next to my roller skates. So there was no way I was ever going to be, like, a lawyer. 

I was very interested in the sciences, especially environmental science, and thought I might get into that. But everything about theatrics was so fascinating to me. Seeing my mom transform, I thought “this is so cool, I want to know more about how this all works.” Then I saw the making of “Thriller” and learned about Rick Baker and thought “whatever he’s doing, I want to learn that.” I remember being that young and wanting to do this.

My dad wanted me to be a nurse, but that wasn’t going to happen. My mother was a clown! It’s like, you showed me this, I like it, I’m going to do it. We landed on going and studying the history of art, and I started school with a major in fine arts and a minor in art history with focus on restoration of old paintings - which is something I still think is really cool! But that was more convincing my father that I was going to have a career in arts, maybe be a professor. It was a Jedi mind trick; I was going into filmmaking. I wanted to be like Johnny Depps’ makeup artist. 

Later, my father wanted me to know every technical piece of the industry. I ended up going to a school in Boston that’s specifically for theatrical design and makeup. I was able to not only work in film and gain credit but stay and learn about the production side of things. It was a unique and well-rounded education in filmmaking and theatrical arts. I know all the pieces of the puzzle. Not everyone is blessed to have that, but I worked my ass off to help put myself through school. I didn’t want to have the mentality of a starving artist - I learned the business side of it. 

Creatives are what make the world go round. You can’t have anything that you’re wearing or that you eat or watch without people like us. I think it’s important to remind young people who want to be in a creative field just how valuable their gifts are, and to let go of the idea that artists need to “struggle” or “pay their dues.” You don’t hear those terms used in more traditional career paths, but for creatives there has long been a narrative that a more artistic career is more challenging. Honestly, it comes down to how passionate you are and how hard you work. Which I feel are just golden rules for most things in life.

 The world needs artists, and we should be encouraging younger creative folks to follow the path that sparks the most joy in them. 

How did you develop your style?

My style as an artist has definitely evolved over time. I started my career in more of the horror and sci-fi side of things - was not something I had planned out intently. I’ve been into fantasy from a young age, things like the Dark Crystal and Labyrinth have been largely inspirational from a costuming and set design aspect. Pee Wee’s Playhouse has heavily influenced my work as a painter. And my love of hip-hop and music in general has played a big role in how and what I create. I’m just a weird amalgamation of things and my art is like that, too.

I try to create things that evoke emotion in someone and aim for jovial emotions. Life is so tough, and growing up in Worcester in the ‘80s and ‘90s was pretty gruff. We were always playing the “is that a gunshot or firework?” game. People in my family were living with and affected by AIDS and had fallen into addiction and I had heavy stuff around me. For survival, I created things that were bright and made me feel happy and hopeful, and I try to incorporate that into my art still present day. 

And Hip-Hop and being a Black artist, that’s ingrained in me. It’d be tough to not have that be a part of me. And when I’m working on something, I’m listening to music - probably something like De La Soul or A Tribe Called Quest. I’m in that space and it’s part of who I am. I want the things I put into the world to have movement even if it’s not physically moving. 

When I was painting the “B” (for the Black Lives Matter mural in Worcester), people were coming up to me and talking about Do The Right Thing - the film that inspired my piece - and living in Brooklyn. It brought so many people out and, in a dark time, we were able to think of good moments. That’s what I have in mind when I’m painting or designing something. I want people to feel good and smile. We need more of that in the world, especially right now.

Even my zombies were always more on a fantasy or horror comic book side of things. I have a Frankenstein tattoo on my leg because it’s a classic piece of cinema. That’s my horror side - when I was entered into this world of people building fake limbs and stuff, I’m like “oh, I don’t want to do that,” and I definitely learned a lot from other artists that helped me get out of my comfort zone - which did help me overall as an artist. The majority of my clients come to me for classic horror tropes - werewolves and Bela Lugosi. I didn’t want to do the From Dusk Til Dawn stuff. I left that to my friends and co-artists. I worked on one really gory movie that I thought I had to do in order to “be respected” as a female FX artist - and, umm, that was a BIG learning experience. I think mostly I learned that I didn’t want to have to do things that didn’t align with who I really am, in order to gain some sort of acclaim or recognition. Because at the end of the day if I can’t recognize myself in what I am doing, then I shouldn’t be doing it. I’m more of the Edward Scissorhands aesthetic - I prefer to keep it fantastical and odd, not frightened to death, haha.

You mentioned using your art to inject hope and joy into a tough environment, but was fantasy another way for you to escape that environment, too?

I think anybody that lived through urban life in the ‘80s and ‘90s - you heard about and saw cops beating people, people getting arrested for crack, people OD’ing, cars getting stolen. It was a grimy and gritty reality, especially if you were Black or Latinx. 

I spent a lot of time watching movies and reading. My favorite movies and books were about goblins and fairies and wizards and elves. It was the ultimate level of a whole other world, where the divide between good and evil is so prevalent, and hope that good can prevail over darkness. I needed to hold onto that, otherwise I’d sink into the world that I was living in as a Black youth. I couldn’t focus on that. So I wondered - what if I could create my own “worlds?” What would that look like? What kind of colors and things would be in it? How would people feel being in these places?

Imagination was the best tool you could have. I aim to bring that sense of imagination and joy into what I create. 

Your work is branded with “A 508 Joint” - what’s the story behind that?

It’s my tag. I grew up being mentored by old school artists who told us to put the date and our initials. But I never think about me or my name because when I’m painting I’m creating from a different perspective. It’s me in there, but I’m pulling from whatever is inspiring in that moment. 

When I was working on the design for the “B” in the BLM mural, I thought about how Spike Lee has been a huge hero of mine - someone who came from humble, challenging means, and is really authentic to who they are. When people see “A Spike Lee Joint,” they know it’s going to be quintessentially Spike. 

For me, so much of how I am as a person is because I grew up in Worcester. It’s such a weird melting pot and an eclectically creative city. Many people from the outside world don’t get that, but we’re working on it. I’m “A 508 Joint” because I’m quintessentially Worcester. I’m a total city kid. I love my city. Whatever I’m putting out there, it’s Nicole - but it’s A 508 Joint. You know it’s some Worcester shit. This is where I was made. I’ve worked and lived all over but I keep coming back here. It’s my heart, my home - I am Worcester.

Tell us about the crowler label you made for us.

I was thinking about when the label was going to come out - springtime, the weather, the season. I thought back to a sunny day, sitting on my front stoop with my dad’s big boombox, tuning it to JAM’N 94.5. That’s when, like, De La Soul, Digital Underground, A Tribe Called Quest, and Mary J. Blige were on heavy rotation on the radio. 

I was drawn to artists like that because they were so poetic and the samples they used were different. It stood out to me. I really loved the album art they would do, and “3 Feet High and Rising” is one of my favorites. Here were three Black men and they weren't trying to look hard. There were bright flowers around them, as they lay against the brilliant yellow of the album cover. It was so beautiful to see that softness and that warmth. It was hopeful. The embodiment of Black joy. 

It is also a representation of how I felt about myself as Black woman. I am poetic, I am soft, I’m into literature, I love laughing, I think picnics are dope, and I want flowers in my hair. De La Soul gave me inspiration to be uniquely myself. You don’t have to fit into one box because you were born into a world that wants so badly to close you into one. You’re beautiful, and you have culture going through your veins. 

It’s just that feeling that it’s summertime. My mind drifts back to those summer days. My hair, my bright yellow clothes, I could go outside and ride my bike, get ice cream at  the corner store with my big brother. I wanted to pay homage to those happy moments - not moments like your car got stolen or someone’s in jail or the hospital - but the moments of Black joy, that are so radiant and worthy of honoring. I wanted to introduce that to people that don't come from our culture. When you get one of these crowlers, you have a piece of Black art in your hands. You see where it originated. It might open up your mind and help you appreciate what Black art has contributed to the world. 

Regardless of where you come from, everyone has something to contribute. Don’t think you have to be one way for people to like you or to you to make it. Be authentically who you are and put that into the world, and you’ll see what happens from that. It’s going to be powerful and positive and you’re not fabricating anything. You’re being you. It is completely within the realm of possibility - making a living and putting into the world what you care the most about.