Have you ever seen something that inspires you to the point of action? Where the feeling of needing to do it is the driving force behind a decision?
Painting cycling helmets was never on the cards. When I first started mountain biking in 2015, I just enjoyed being on the bike. I didn’t care about what the bike was, which brand jacket I had on, or really even which trails I was riding. I just loved being out there. That feeling has never really gone away but, inevitably, when you’re into it, you fall deep. Before long, I was reading magazines, watching films, and consuming as many YouTube videos about mountain biking as possible.
In one such video – a GMBN Dirtshed show episode – I spotted Martyn Ashton’s custom Animal helmet. I’d never seen a helmet painted like that before. Sure, folks were sporting custom-painted helmets in all the films and competitions I was watching but none were like this. It looked almost sketched. The artwork wasn’t just about pretty patterns or airbrushed gradients, it was a painting without a typical canvas.
That helmet lived in my head for years. It was something I thought about often and, whenever I picked up a Sharpie to write on something, I wondered if it was something I could achieve. I’d always enjoyed sketching and design was something I’d practised right through university. Despite my art teacher at school not filling me with confidence, I believed I’d got enough in me to at least give it a decent attempt. So, armed with my white, peakless lid, I started.
The result was something I was really pleased with. It looked like a sketch which had jumped right out of my notebook and wrapped itself around my helmet. It felt like the Animal lid that I’d been inspired by but it also reminded me of tattoos which was in no small part because I’d taken a lot of inspiration for the design from tattoo artists. I posted about it on my Twitter once I’d finished and was reminded that Sharpie might not be the most water-resistant so I bought some plastic-friendly clear coat to give it some protection. That’s when I learnt the hard way that keeping the right distance whilst spraying is important. The ink ran in a few places. Lesson learnt.
Two days later, still full of excitement, I took another of my old helmets out of retirement to turn into art. This time, the aim wasn’t to prove that I could sketch something that was pretty but to get the clear coat to work properly. I also ditched the Sharpie and switched in some paint pens for a better finish. The result was much better. The paint stuck, the clear coat set nicely, and no paint ran. The proof was there.
Since my first helmet in 2019, I’ve painted more than I care to count. Initially, a few very generous people sent me their lids to practise on but, once the proof was there, it became overwhelming. The number of people who also appreciated a tumbling of sketch-like artwork over their helmets astounded me and it all took off. There have been loads that have left the desk. I’ve raffled some for charity, given some away as prizes at events, sent one to a professional who I’ve watched videos of since I started, and sold a few which have gone international.
Each helmet is entirely different, taking on the thoughts and ideas of the owner. And each one reminds me, in its own small way, of the inspiration that started it all. A few times, I’ve thought about stopping (they’re not really profitable because of the amount of time they take) but each time I continue. It’s not even that I earn a wage from them; it’s just because I love painting them. And I feel I should.
All that from one video I saw seven years ago.