Mark James isn’t bored (and he doesn’t think you should be either)

Under Neon Loneliness. Photography by Mary Wycherley @Two Cats In The Yard

The Cardiff-based creative on controversial chickens, Tokyo dreams and keeping busy to stay sane.

Mark James doesn’t like to sit still. He admits as much early on in our chat. “I find it hard to relax, my brain’s constantly on the go,” he says. “So the busier, the better.”

It’s perhaps no surprise, then, that over the last two decades, the Cardiff-based multidisciplinary artist and art director has built a strikingly diverse body of work. From album sleeves to immersive installations, viral hoaxes to iconic branding projects, Mark’s portfolio blends humour, subversion and sharp conceptual thinking in a way that’s instantly recognisable.

Even if you don’t know his name, you’ve probably seen his work — and very possibly chuckled, raised an eyebrow, or questioned your eyesight in the process.

“I never had any formal training…”

Growing up in Cardiff, Mark knew from a young age he wanted to work in music and design sleeves. But without obvious routes into the creative industries, he forged his own path, making collages inspired by Jamie Reid and Barney Bubbles, designing flyers for local clubs, and eventually going freelance after a stint in a screen printing shop.

A move to London came in 2000 with the opportunity to art direct at Island Records, before a return to Cardiff in 2012 saw him set up a home studio, where he still works today.

Under Neon Loneliness. Photography by Mary Wycherley @Two Cats In The Yard

Under Neon Loneliness. Photography by Mary Wycherley @Two Cats In The Yard

“I work mostly on my own,” he says, “but there are always collaborators. DOPs, animators, photographers. You bring in who you need, depending on the project. Working with musicians, especially, is such a creative process. A title or lyric can spark a whole visual world.”

That’s exactly what happened with Gruff Rhys’ 2024 album Sadness Sets Me Free, where Mark built the artwork entirely in Blender and then extended the concept into animated videos and tour visuals.

Highs, lows and chickens

Over the years, Mark has had his fair share of career highs. There’s the Abbey Road Studios rebrand. A sold-out designer toy series selected by MoMA. And ‘Under Neon Loneliness’ — a 20ft shipping container turned immersive light installation that pulled in 16,500 visitors in just three weeks.

He’s also no stranger to going viral. In 2014, his now-infamous logo for Dirty Bird Fried Chicken stirred up headlines by using the lowercase letters’ db’ to form a rooster that – depending on your imagination – also resembled something a little more ahem anatomical. “Quite puerile really,” he says, “but it brought a smile to people’s faces. Ten years later, it’s still getting attention. The gift that keeps on giving.”

Work for DirtyBird

Work for DirtyBird

Another viral moment came in 2016, when Mark faked a meteor sighting over Flatholm Island as part of an art campaign. “I posted shaky phone footage to Twitter and asked if anyone else had seen it. By morning, it had gone global.” The meteor turned out to be a returning NASA Golden Record from 1977, and a clever launch stunt for the Cardiff Contemporary Visual Arts Festival.

But with the highs come the inevitable creative wobbles. “There’ve been tough times, especially working solo. You have quiet weeks, and that little voice starts asking if it’s all over. But it’s usually fine. You just have to keep making. Keep doing your own thing.” For Mark, that means self-initiated projects are always on the go — “just to keep the wheels turning.”

On the business of creativity

With over two decades of freelance experience under his belt, Mark is refreshingly pragmatic about the business side of things.

“I set aside half a day a week for admin. That’s usually enough. I have an accountant who helps me massively. And honestly, it’s not all that complicated.”

Most of his work comes through word of mouth, particularly from bands and musicians. “Social media’s good too. Although people may assume they can’t afford me, which isn’t the case. If it’s a fun or interesting job, I’m game. It’s not just about the budget — I need to stay creatively active.”

Looking ahead

As for what’s next, Mark’s ambition hasn’t dulled. He’s open to agency representation, keen for new creative challenges, and dreaming bigger — from fashion brand installations to full-scale international exhibitions.

“There’s definitely a pull towards Japan,” he says. “I’ve done a few collaborations there and had a solo show in Tokyo in 2022. I’m planning another for October. I’d love to grow that side of things — more international work, more large-scale stuff, more connections.”

Abbey Road Studios, 90 Years

In the meantime, there’s a dream café concept bubbling away in the background: a Japanese curry spot in Tokyo’s Tomigaya neighbourhood, fully designed and branded by Mark himself. “It might never happen. But I’m designing the menu, the interior, the merch… all of it – just to keep the creative juices flowing.”

Final thoughts

Mark’s go-to creative rituals are surprisingly simple: walking (“fast-paced, ideas start flowing”) and making lists (“so many lists on my phone – ticking off even one small thing feels like progress”). He finds inspiration in fashion, galleries, and music, quoting John Miles as he grins: “Music was my first love, and it will be my last.”

So, what has kept him going all these years? “Just that excitement,” he says. “The spark you get at the start of a project, when an idea clicks and you think: yeah, that’s it. That’s the one.”

Spoken like a man who’s still very much in love with the work.

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