Kenny Scharf reflects on Warhol, Basquiat, and art’s future

Kenny Scharf’s vivid, apocalyptic-pop aesthetic has captivated audiences for over four decades — from the streets of New York to major international museums. Scharf first rose to prominence in 1980s New York alongside close friends and fellow trailblazers Jean-Michel Basquiat, Keith Haring, and Andy Warhol. Part of the East Village art scene that blurred the lines between street and fine art, Scharf began by spray-painting cosmic creatures onto city walls and transforming salvaged junk into joyful, surreal installations. Over 40 years later, his exuberant, sci-fi-inflected aesthetic remains unmistakable — whether on thrifted furniture, reclaimed canvases, or luxury runways. While his work that once adorned the alleyways of New York now appears in capsule collections with Dior and collectible Hot Wheels, Scharf’s belief in accessibility, environmental awareness, and emotional immediacy has never wavered. This spring, the Brant Foundation in New York launched a major retrospective celebrating Scharf’s prolific career, highlighting both his early underground works and large-scale installations. Now, the American pop-surrealist brings his vivid universe to China with “Emotional,” a solo show at the Museum of Modern Art in Shanghai (June 29 to October 8). In this conversation with Jing Daily, Scharf discusses his creative process, how memories fuel his work, and his reaction to the rise of AI in art. Having long embraced collaborations with fashion and consumer brands while maintaining a sharp eye on artistic integrity, he also reflects on the importance of accessibility in his practice. As Scharf sees it, art should speak across cultures and classes — and invite all people in. Jing Daily: What is the role of the artist in 2025 — is it about unveiling the truth to viewers? Kenny Scharf: People don’t usually look at my work and think it’s political, or about current events — but the messages are there. Sometimes it’s overt, sometimes not. Like this work I’m showing you now: it looks decorative, but the figures are combinations of robots, AI, and humans — angular mixed with organic shapes. That’s how I express the moment we’re in. I’ve used headlines in silkscreens since the late 1980s. At a glance, it looks abstract, but if you read the background, it’s about nuclear catastrophe, environmental issues, plastic consumption — all mixed in with ads for microwaves or cars. That’s the world we live in. Consumerism is destroying us. I’m just observing and commenting. I care deeply about the planet. I was just talking about Barbara Kruger’s “I shop therefore I am” piece. That idea still rings true — we’re so linked to our consumption. JD: That’s fascinating. Your work contains both fantasy and warnings. Speaking of the past, what was it like being around great artists like Andy Warhol? KS: I was lucky to arrive in New York in 1978, right when a lot of other artists were arriving, too — Keith Haring, Jean-Michel Basquiat. Andy Warhol had a huge influence on us. He was a reason we all moved to New York. When we eventually befriended him, it was surreal — meeting your hero. Keith and Jean-Michel were my age, my contemporaries. I met Jean-Michel when he was 17 and I was 19. We had so many experiences together — fun, fights, exploration. We were learning about art firsthand, from each other and from the streets. Street art was crucial to [Basquiat, Warhol and I] — accessibility was everything. [That’s why I believe] art shouldn’t be limited to galleries. Art in the street is for everyone. No price tag. No exclusivity. It’s pure. And while I’m grateful I can make a living from my art, I do get frustrated when the monetary value overshadows the art itself. That’s why I still love public art — it can’t be bought. It belongs to all. JD: That’s really powerful. And when it comes to materials — can you talk about the idea of reuse, or rebirth in your work? KS: I’ve been obsessed with garbage since I got to New York. Back then, there was so much trash — and it fascinated me. Trash tells the story of a society. I started turning found objects into art, giving them a new life. A lot of what we wore in the ’70s — those punk or new wave clothes — came straight from the garbage. They were all from the ’50s. Even old TVs and furniture. I’ve always loved the idea of transforming something discarded into something meaningful. I did a whole series where I’d take thrift store paintings — often very sincere, but forgotten — and add to them. Sometimes people think that’s disrespectful, but I think it’s sadder to leave them unloved in a bin. I see it as collaborating with the original artist. I inject humor or new life into it. It’s fun, and it honors the spirit of the piece. JD: What have been some of your favorite brand collaborations? KS: Dior was amazing. The quality was incredible. Kim Jones, the designer, really understood my work. He studied it, chose elements thoughtfully, and made the process easy and exciting for me. Another favorite is a new one — Hot Wheels by Mattel. I designed a car [that debuted in June 2025]. They were extremely professional, like Dior, and made it a joy to work with them. What’s funny is that after the Dior collab, I started getting more respect from the art world. People who may have dismissed me started taking a second look. If it helps them see me more clearly — great. And if someone just wears the outfit because they love it, that’s fine, too. JD: You’ve collaborated with many brands and designers. How do you balance your artistic vision with the commercial and business side? KS: I’ve never really struggled with that because my art was always meant to be accessible. The art world used to frown on accessibility, it was dumbing things down, but I’ve always wanted to raise people up through art. It’s not less important because it’s accessible. My imagery works perfectly in that applied arts environment. That’s what it was made for. JD: And when it comes to your audience, especially in Asia, what kinds of responses have you received? Do their interpretations of your work align with your vision and the messages you want to share? KS: To me, accessibility also means universality. I’ve created a visual language that crosses cultures. A lot of what I do is based on early memories, cartoon-like imagery, and that resonates with people around the world, especially in Asia. I’m a big fan of sci-fi, and I used to be obsessed with Japanese science fiction. When I see places like Shanghai, the skyline feels like a living fantasy. It’s a vision of the future I think has been abandoned in the West, but still thrives in Asia. Architecture that’s soaring and wild, like something out of a dream. I love fantasy. And when I see a city living it out, it excites me. JD: You mentioned getting inspired to create new art through your early subconscious. How do you tap into those childhood memories? Through dreams, meditation? KS: I’m always thinking about my paintings. Even when I’m not painting, I’m planning the next step. Any good artist is obsessed. A lot of my imagery comes from growing up in LA in the late ’50s and early ’60s — futuristic fantasies everywhere. Rocket fins on cars, space-age diners, laundromats that looked like space stations. That stuck with me. So, by the time I became an artist in the ’70s, I was haunted by this promised future that never came. That’s what I still paint — what could have been. I’m also obsessed with nature and how humanity impacts it. A lot of my work is about that tension. You’ll see angular, robotic shapes — those represent manmade things, set against vines, jungles, butterflies, which symbolize nature. Sometimes the painting just celebrates nature. Other times, it’s a clash. I often layer newspaper headlines about climate change, or deforestation into the background. Because nature is still here, hanging on, fluttering through skyscrapers. And I worry it won’t be for long. JD: You’ve said that AI is devoid of soul. Can you elaborate on that? Is technology ultimately good, or bad? KS: When I see anything made by AI, I can usually tell. It’s different when it's used for special effects in movies — that makes sense, because it’s easy, cheap, and looks good. But with art, emotions are really human. AI doesn’t have them. So, whenever I see AI-generated art, it actually makes me feel physically ill. There’s a soullessness to it that makes me queasy, even nauseous. Honestly, it scares me. We’ve been heading down this path for a while … And with AI, it gets worse — because you can create any scenario, make it look real, and fool a lot of people. It’s only going to get easier to deceive. So yeah, it has its uses, but when it comes to truth, news, and connection, it’s not a good path. JD: Would you have any advice for young creatives? KS: Yes: Don’t get too caught up in how to get successful. Don’t obsess over your “career.” Focus on the art. That’s where your energy should go. Without the art, there is no career. If you're painting and thinking about who didn’t say hi to you at an opening, or how to get into a gallery, your painting will suck. Throw all that out. Focus on the work. If it’s great, everything else will follow. When I get excited. I usually don’t plan ahead. I just start, and there’s fear and surprise. I try things, get stuck, find new paths — and in the process, I discover. That discovery, that excitement, shows in the work. And if I feel it, the viewer probably will, too.

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Kenny Scharf reflects on Warhol, Basquiat, and art’s future