For SUM, art is not a shortcut to recognition. It is a lifelong practice of learning, solving, refining and showing up.
“I’m a storyteller first,” SUM says. The name comes from a simple idea: he is the sum of everything he has seen, lived and experienced, translated into something physical.
He has been creating for most of his life, but it was not until he was 24 that he stopped asking what he could do to make money and asked a more difficult question: if money did not exist, what would he do for the rest of his life?
The answer was to create.
That decision became the beginning of a 16-year practice spanning murals, paintings, sculptures, custom commissions and international collaborations. His work sits between realism and abstraction—grounded enough to feel familiar, but slightly shifted, inviting the viewer to look again.
Letting the work lead
SUM has completed almost 300 commissions, but the projects that matter most are not necessarily the ones with the largest budgets. They are the ones that opened a door or proved that the work could travel.
Before the pandemic, he was flown to Brooklyn to paint his friend’s restaurant, Saavy Bistro. Two weeks later, he created work for Da’Vine Wine, his aunt’s restaurant in the Bahamas. They were his first paid projects abroad, and together they changed his sense of possibility.
Then came the Nipsey Hussle mural. It was not commissioned. SUM created it out of respect, but he also wanted it to function as more than a memorial. He built QR codes into the piece so viewers could explore parts of Nipsey’s story, mindset and message.
The mural reached people far beyond its original setting, including those close to Nipsey and figures such as Dah Dah, Snoop Dogg’s director, and former Laker and podcaster Matt Barnes. That attention led to an opportunity through Nathan Elliott and Jaren Hayman of Frontrunner: a large-scale work honouring Kobe Bryant, Nipsey Hussle and Tupac Shakur, brought to Los Angeles around the premiere of their documentary.
“Something done purely for yourself ends up travelling further than anything you could have planned,” he says.
Another defining moment came with the José Bautista mural. The project was significant not only because of Bautista’s place in Canadian sports, but because the organization found SUM through the strength of his work—not because he was already famous. That trust eventually led to a mural for the Toronto Raptors’ Vince Carter jersey retirement, a full-circle moment for someone who had watched the 2000 dunk contest as a teenager.
More opportunities followed: the NBA and NBC’s “30 Rocks at 30 Rock” installation, work for NBA 2K26 after Shai Gilgeous-Alexander’s championship season, and a commercial for the Buffalo Bills. His work has now taken him to New York, the Bahamas, Los Angeles, Bali, Tokyo, Buenos Aires and Lisbon.
The years before recognition
SUM is candid about the beginning. He did not believe he was naturally gifted. What he did have was a willingness to learn and the conviction that quitting was the only way he could lose.
He enrolled at Humber for Design Foundations, not because he expected to complete a traditional academic path, but because he needed to sharpen his skills and understand how to present himself. His first commission came through Craigslist: a life-sized unicorn sculpture for Lora Zombie’s first Canadian exhibition at the Gladstone Hotel.
He had one week to conceptualize the piece and four days to build it. The $1,200 commission cost him $1,500 to make, but it placed him inside a real exhibition and taught him how the art world operated. The Gladstone later brought the unicorn back for the UpArt Festival, where it became one of the most photographed pieces in the show.
That experience showed him that he did not need to wait for a gallery, collective or institution to validate the work. He could build the structure himself.
For years, he worked full-time as a chef while funding his art. Paint, brushes and equipment were paid for by the project before them. Branded Ink’s Diego and Juan became important early supporters, giving him opportunities to create helmets, guitars, shoes, canvases and murals for real clients.
He also learned that custom work carries responsibility. If a project fell short of his expectations, he fixed it, even when that meant extra time or absorbing the cost himself. “When someone trusts you with their money for something custom, you don’t get to take that lightly,” he says.
Art as problem-solving
SUM does not approach a mural as a purely intuitive act. He approaches it as a problem to solve.
Before touching the surface, he studies the space, the wall, the environment, the lighting and the way people will experience the finished work. Then he breaks the idea down into composition, structure, perspective, colour and flow.
The process comes from necessity. Early on, he could not afford to waste materials or time, so planning became part of the art. Once the structure is solved, instinct takes over. He blocks in the work, refines it and carves into it, almost as if he is assembling something rather than simply painting it.
Perspective is central to his practice. He is interested in physical, emotional, narrative, temporal, symbolic and structural perspective—and in shifting the viewer’s point of view to reveal another layer.
His signature style was not designed in advance. It emerged through years of experimentation across mediums and approaches. The balance between realism and abstraction, the use of colour or its absence, and the emphasis on how a piece feels rather than simply how it looks became recurring decisions.
“Style isn’t something you build outward,” he explains. “It’s something that forms inward.”
When the work becomes a business
SUM’s business grew directly from the work. One project funded the next, and every commission became a test of trust.
He does not separate “his work” from client work. The difference, he says, is not who the work is for but whether the idea is strong enough. Brands do not dilute authenticity; weak ideas do.
His role is to ask enough questions to understand the strategy, then elevate the concept until it becomes something both sides believe in. The strongest commercial work is not the safest version of an idea. It is the most considered and impactful one.
He believes artists often undervalue their ability to make a client’s idea clear, organized and stress-free. The finished object matters, but so do the concept, the process, the timeline, the communication and the follow-through.
“That trust is what people are really paying for,” he says.
Make work people remember
For emerging artists looking for exposure, SUM’s advice is direct: stop trying to be seen and start trying to be remembered.
Talent is no longer rare on its own. A point of view that feels undeniable is rare. He encourages artists to make every decision intentional, document their process and show people how they think—not only what they produce.
If the work is clear enough and the perspective is strong enough, he believes exposure becomes a byproduct rather than the goal.
A life still in progress
SUM is less interested in defining a legacy than in making people feel brighter when they encounter his work. He wants to remind viewers that their stories, cultures and communities are worth celebrating.
That belief has become even more personal since the birth of his first child in February. For now, he is taking some downtime, spending time at home with his partner and watching his son grow. At the same time, he is rebuilding his backend, organizing years of content and preparing a major release of projects, clothing, prints, a possible collection and his first art show.
Sixteen years in, SUM does not describe himself as finished. He describes himself as just getting started.
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From self-funded murals and a Craigslist commission to Nipsey Hussle, Kobe, José Bautista and the Raptors, SUM has built an art practice around intention, persistence and perspective.