Phil Huelz
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Sep 26
- 4 min read
Phil Huelz takes inspiration from skate culture, hip hop, and graffiti, shaping a visual language that feels fast, playful, and direct. Hearts, turtles, and cartoon-like figures appear often in his work, carrying both humor and personal meaning. In projects like “Playworld” and “Mosaic of Moments,” he mixes lightness with reflection, showing how simple forms can hold layered stories. He works across posters, canvases, and digital formats, always keeping the lines energetic and the mood open. His illustrations come together like a diary, picking up bits of daily life and turning them into symbols others can connect with.
Q: You grew up with graffiti, hip hop, and skate culture. What parts of that world still drive your practice?
A: Those worlds shaped me more than I realized at the time. The skatepark taught me about community (friends), freedom, and not caring too much about rules. Hip hop gave me a chill atmosphere and a sense of layering and composition that still runs through my art. I don’t paint walls in the park anymore, but the energy is still there in my outlines, in my attitude toward mistakes, and in the way I want my work to feel alive and accessible.
Q: The heart shows up often in your work. What keeps you returning to it as a symbol?
A: The heart is part of my story. I was born with Ebstein’s Anomaly, a rare heart condition. Even though I didn’t face major issues growing up and was always pretty resilient, just knowing about it shaped my perspective. It made me more aware that not everyone has it that easy, that good health isn’t guaranteed, and that life itself is a gift. I create art to connect, and if someone sees one of my hearts and feels understood or less alone, then it’s already done more than enough.
Sometimes the heart in my artworks stands for connection or emotional vulnerability, sometimes for resilience or even quiet pain. It’s not always romantic or soft; in some works it’s raw, flawed, or stitched back together. I like using both anatomical and symbolic heart forms because they let me explore different emotional layers. The symbol evolves as I do, it can be heavy or light, hidden or right in your face. But at its core, it always speaks to what keeps us going, despite everything.
Q: In "Playworld" you bring in a turtle, eyes, and hands. How do you choose symbols that feel right for a piece?
A: Symbols often come from instinct. Sometimes they’re connected to memories or emotions
I’m processing, other times they’re sparked by music, exhibitions, conversations, or even random thoughts. A turtle, for example, can carry ideas of patience and protection, while eyes speak to awareness and perspective. I like mixing symbols that feel universal with ones that are personal to me, they open space for interpretation. The best symbols are the ones people can project their own meaning onto while still carrying my own story.
Q: "The World Is a Playground" mixes wonder with uncertainty. What does play mean to you as an adult artist?
A: As an adult, play is freedom. It’s the space where I or others can express without pressure or control, without needing everything to be polished or explained. At the same time, play carries uncertainty, and that’s important too. Life isn’t predictable, and neither is the creative process. By treating the world as a playground, I remind myself to stay curious, to try new things, and to keep that sense of wonder alive, even when the themes get serious. I want people to embrace a similar mindset, no matter if they work in a creative field or not.
Q: Your art spans posters, canvases, digital works, even installations. How do you keep the same energy across such different formats?
A: Some artists stick to one format only: only digital, only canvas, only marker art, only murals. I admire that dedication, but I’m different. Just as Keith Haring switched formats over time, I find it important to keep my style consistent while mastering multiple mediums. The energy comes from the line work, the colors, and the themes I return to, not just from the surface it’s applied to. Whether it’s a poster, a spray-painted canvas, or a digital illustration, I make sure it carries the same boldness and emotional resonance. That way the format changes, but the voice stays the same.
Q: Your work often blends childlike visuals with serious themes. What makes that mix so powerful for you?
A: Play disarms. I want to talk about deep things, but in a visual language that’s light on the eyes and heavy on the heart. In my opinion, that contrast makes it stick. Balancing those two worlds — the childlike aesthetics and the heavy themes — is something I already do unconsciously. Blood, for example, is a no-go for me; it feels too gory. But a cartoonish gun or knife? I want to make art people are not afraid of or feel uncomfortable around. There’s a way to convey deep topics in a playful way, so that viewers can engage with them without feeling pushed away.
