Character Driven

Chern’s work is instantly recognisable: playful, character-driven, and steeped in a distinctly Malaysian sense of humour. From a disused shed transformed into a giant vintage safety matchbox to a nostalgic rendering of an old-school kopitiam-style cafe to a cheeky parody of everyday brands and icons, his art channels the textures and quirks of local life. He blends graffiti with graphic design and storytelling, inserting cartoon-like characters into surreal, scene-setting environments. But his murals do more than brighten walls, they tell stories that resonate with passersby, drawing on childhood memories, pop culture and the rhythms of urban Malaysia. There’s an unmistakable affection in his work – for nasi lemak packets, tin toy boxes, old-school logos – that evokes the warmth and wit of shared cultural memory.

Born and raised in KL, Chern grew up in a city that always felt like it was in motion. “It makes me restless too,” he laughs. “It pushes me to create.” As a student commuting daily by train, he passed graffiti-covered riverbanks that doubled as jam spaces for artists from around the world. “There were new masterpieces every day. I was fascinated.” His entry into graffiti was instinctive: more drawn to images than words, he pursued a degree in illustration and painted his first tag, “Chern,” on a grey wall in KL using unsold spray cans from his father’s hardware shop.

Like many emerging graffiti artists, his early work didn’t always last, often painted over within days. At first, this stung. “I’d get demotivated when a piece got covered,” he admits. “But I realised the experience mattered more. Every piece taught me something.” His murals today are rooted in that ephemerality, but they also strive to connect. One such story took the form of his Safety Match series: small, site-specific murals styled like vintage matchboxes, inspired by an old shed he passed that reminded him of an open matchbox. “People used to rely on matchboxes before lighters,” he says. “It’s something almost forgotten, but still deeply familiar.”

That balance between past and present, humour and homage, is at the heart of Chern’s visual language, which has evolved over time. In the early days, he focused on developing character designs and playing with colour. Over time, his approach has deepened to include storytelling and emotional resonance, as well as a thoughtful relationship with space. While he avoids locking himself into specific subjects or recurring characters, his pieces are united by a distinct energy – a vibe he hopes is instantly recognisable. “It’s more about capturing a feeling than repeating a formula,” he explains. Balancing nostalgia with playfulness is key: he stays true to his emotions but never takes things too seriously. “I always try to bring in a sense of fun through colours, characters or little surprises. I want people to smile, feel something and remember their own stories too.”

Public space is where that creative philosophy truly comes to life. For Chern, the grey areas of Malaysian cities – abandoned message boards, staircases, alleyways – offer both challenge and opportunity. “They’re not black or white. They’re in-between spaces. And I like transforming them into something new.” He doesn’t seek out sites in advance; he waits for a wall or space that just “feels right.” It’s about the energy, he says, not the location. He doesn’t romanticise the impermanence of murals, either. He knows their fate is uncertain. One recent piece in Vienna depicted a graffiti artist in a stand-off with a city cleanup worker. “Each fresh masterpiece is met with a fresh coat of paint,” he says. “It’s a silent battle between expression and erasure, rebellion and regulation.”

Now, some 15 years into his career, Chern remains just as curious. Whether sketching mural concepts by hand in his stack of sketchbooks or working digitally for clients, he stays open to inspiration from unexpected places – a YouTube clip, a childhood memory, a passing conversation, the shape of a building. “I was barely aware of architecture before,” he muses. “But now I think about how a space makes me feel. How you walk up a staircase. That matters.”

Nostalgia also finds a home in Chern’s personal space. The home he shares with his partner Zoe, a fellow illustrator, designer and tattoo artist (@zozogoods), is a cheerful, colour-filled retreat. Together, they’ve renovated a standard Malaysian apartment – “just a rectangle,” he jokes – into a warm, functional living and working space. Walls were removed to open up the kitchen and studio, and storage solutions were designed to fit the couple’s creative habits. “Interior design is an art too,” he says. “You need to know how to store things right.” The open storage they chose means everything is on display, but the effect is curated, not chaotic.

His go-to spot at home is the studio. Though it opens into the living room, a Persian rug in the studio space marks the boundary. Natural light pours in, and beyond his desk lies a view of lush greenery. White metal shelving lines one wall, festooned with vivid Japanese snack packets, retro toy cars, and characters like Bob the Builder, Mario, Miffy, Woody from Toy Story, and Cloaky – Chern’s own signature plastic collectible. A pinboard overflows with postcards and concert flyers, and one bay is dedicated to spray cans in every imaginable colour.

“Right now, my favourite item on the desk is a customised Bearbrick in a construction outfit,” he says. “It’s a small reminder that life is always a work in progress, and that I should trust the process.” He proudly shows off a postcard featuring original artwork by the New York graffiti legend Futura (Leonard McGurr), drawn for him during an event in Hong Kong. “It’s something I really treasure.”

When he’s not in the studio, he’s probably in the kitchen. Zoe is the main cook, and Chern serves as sous-chef. Since they both often work from home, meals provide a daily rhythm. They always make breakfast together: something simple like fried eggs or avocado on toast. They try to cook lunch and dinner together, too. Hainanese chicken rice is often on the menu. 

Throughout their home are playful, sentimental objects: art prints, design books, sketch pads, and a giant pink rubber duck found at a Paris flea market that now lives in the bathroom, one of the few white spaces in the home. “We’re attracted to colour,” he grins. “Not brands. Just whatever makes us happy.”

Though the home feels like a retreat, it also fuels his creative energy. “Sometimes when I’m stuck or stressed about an idea not working, I take a break and look at the art around me, flip through magazines like Popeye from Japan, or play with our two cats. It helps!” Surprisingly, he doesn’t turn to music for motivation while he works. “Actually, I listen to lo-fi as a form of white noise to cut out distractions, or I don't listen to anything at all.”

Looking ahead, Chern dreams of one day meeting Banksy, “to see how he cooks up those stories, and how he manages to be so prolific but also anonymous.” He’s inspired by artists like Felipe Pantone, who combine art with architecture, citing his “Casa Axis” artist hub, a funky 1970s villa outside Valencia, Spain. Chern hopes to travel more and explore the visual cues that give places their unique character. “Every culture has nostalgic images that are recognisable, even if you didn’t grow up there,” he says. “They give you a sense of place.”

But no matter where his work takes him, Chern stays grounded by a simple belief: “Do good, and good will come your way.” It’s a sentiment that mirrors both his cheerful, curiosity-driven style and his own happy-go-lucky nature. After all, for Cloakwork, where there’s a wall, there’s a will.

iamcloakwork.com

@cloakwork

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