How a Seattle artist finds inspiration in life’s dualities

STORY BY JAKE SIEWERT | PHOTOS COURTESY OF KHOA NGO

(Above) Elliott Klein, 23, working on his mural “A Half-Formed Thought”

Wispy vegetation brushes against his eyes as he treks further into the woods. Fronds beneath him are bent, not broken, forming a trail deeper into the vegetation. The path is fresh with footsteps. Four feet are on the trail today. Two belong to the artist, Elliott Klein, and two to his friend and photographer, Khoa Ngo.

“No one would hardly see it in the middle of the woods,” Klein explains. That’s why the cameras are there; to preserve something beautiful that nobody can see unless they trek deep down the trail like the two artists.

Klein’s gunmetal gray backpack scrapes against blackberry vines as he ducks under branches. He has found a perfect spot, deep in one of Washington’s lush forests. Often, he would spend one or two weeks on a piece but this one has been months in the making.

“Lynwood,” Klein says, identifying their location in the mass of green. This wooded area is near where he grew up. “I’ve been here before,” he says. “I’m not worried about someone kicking us out.”

Klein and Khoa reach a clearing where the cement façade of an abandoned home lives. Two rectangular gaps where windows once stood are empty. Branches from the area have reclaimed the structure as part of the environment. This is the perfect place for Klein’s next piece, a 5-by-5-foot graffiti/stencil mural titled “A Half-Formed Thought.”

Klein’s own style of stenciled spray paint graffiti art has been five years in the making. He resides in Seattle, working as an assistant account executive at a marketing firm. Outside of the office he ditches the tie for a respirator.

“Paying attention to people and how they act is something that I think affects both my work and art,” Klein says. “I try to understand motives and why people do what they do or don’t do.”

Klein’s work relies on a minimal palate; two or three strong colors along with black or white. “A Half-Formed Thought” will be no different. He has chosen a dark maroon and a shade of pink you’d find on eggshells in April. Ngo brings with him a 50mm and 28–135mm camera lenses, a tripod and a stabilizer.

Klein builds his pieces from the stencil up, using graphic design skills to make elaborate, multi-layered blue prints of each piece. This stencil took more than a month to make using Photoshop. He started with a reference image he refers to as “a girl in a beanie.”

“A Half-Formed Thought” was hardly that when it came to preparation. After finishing the design he cut out the shapes with meticulous care. Tiny holes, big swoops and exact slashes all decarated multiple pieces of paper.

“After years of changing styles and refining, my paintings are made from sharp lines and broken images, “ Klein says.

Stencils are exact and mathematical in design, but Klein’s affinity for adding fractured pieces comes from learning that things in life can maintain purpose even when they don’t equate perfectly. Commitment in every cut of the stencil, premeditated brilliance that only comes together once the piece is fully finished.

“It’s not broken enough to be unrecognizable,” Klein says. “But enough to be noticeable.”

Klein dons his respirator and plastic gloves. Ngo settles in and starts to record b-roll with his DSLR camera.

“I thought I brought two fully charged batteries but it turns out they weren’t,” Ngo says. They will have to be very calculated with their shots on a partial charge if they wished to record the full process.

The first layer of the piece is taped to the wall. Everything becomes red. Aerosol propels color out of his can in a mist. His hands move with precision. He pauses, then sprays in slashes until the stencil is saturated in maroon.

“As far as the painting goes, if I mess up, it becomes very difficult to fix,” Klein says. “Everyone wants something and everyone approaches it a little differently and everyone has their failures trying to achieve it.”

The first stencil comes down and the second layer goes up. The rusty dark red wall is covered by another stencil then pink paint. The hissing of the metallic can stops.

The stencil is removed. Klein detaches his respirator, discards his gloves and takes a step back. Ngo snaps a few still shots of the finished piece. Klein collects his spent stencils, cans, respirator and trash. Ngo packs up his camera equipment. Klein takes his gray backpack and throws it over his shoulder, leaving “A Half-Formed Thought” in its new home.

Klein hasn’t gone back in the months since. He assumes that the piece has perished. Painted over by another artist.

But he does not dwell on the chance of its demise, for it lives on in stills from the day and in the months of work he invested in the short life of the piece.

“It was a large undertaking,” Klein would later tell me, “but it was immensely satisfying.”

You can view Klein’s art on display here.