In a world of over-polished art brands and algorithm-chasing aesthetics, Dokebi is doing the exact opposite. Born from kitchen-table sketches and a grandmother’s folklore, the artist behind Dokebi blends Korean mythology with street grit, comic energy, and a deep love for creature design. Whether it’s vinyl toys, screen-printed stickers, or mischievous murals, his work oozes personality and playfulness. We caught up with the artist to talk about goblins, growing pains, and why chaos might just be the most honest creative force out there. 

What first inspired the creation of “Dokebi” as your artist identity, and what does the name mean to you?

My illustration interests have always centered around character and creature design. Over the years, I’ve gone through a number of artist monikers, starting when I was about 15, but I never committed to any of them. Each had its own “style” or theme, but most of them felt forced. Eventually, I took a step back from trying to craft a specific look and just focused on drawing what I enjoyed. Over time, a natural style began to emerge, and that’s when I started thinking seriously about finding a name that actually fit. The name Dokebi came from my grandmother. 

I was drawing at the kitchen table one day when she walked by, looked at what I was working on, and said, “Dokkaebi!” I had grown up hearing a few Korean folk stories from her, but that moment prompted her to sit down and refresh my memory. In Korean folklore, dokkaebi are mischievous goblins or spirit-like creatures that play tricks on humans- not evil monsters, but more like chaotic tricksters. I really liked that idea. It felt playful and odd in a way that resonated with my characters and themes.

To me, the name Dokebi is a tribute to my heritage. I don’t have an official Korean name, so using Dokebi as my artist identity serves as a personal and proud reminder of who I am and where my family comes from.

How do cultural influences—whether Korean folklore, street culture, or modern art—shape your work?

I try to pull inspiration from a variety of sources; Korean folklore, street culture, modern art, comic books, etc. I’ve collected a wide range of art books over the years, everything from Jim Phillips’ poster art and Hellboy comics to Korean children’s stories and tattoo portfolios. Each source offers something unique, and I enjoy blending those elements into my work. For example, I often hide traditional Korean patterns or minhwa-style illustrations in the backgrounds of my pieces. If I’m feeling stuck creatively, I’ll pull out one of my books and try to redraw something in my own style. It doesn’t always turn into a finished piece, but it’s a great way to challenge myself and pick up new techniques I wouldn’t have explored otherwise.

A lot of my work is also drawn from everyday life. Some of the stickers and posters I’ve created are loose depictions of friends or people I’ve known over the years. Looking back, I can see clear phases in my style; times when my work leaned more punk or street-inspired, and I think that reflects the cities I was living in or the people I was surrounded by at the time. My environment definitely plays a role in how my art evolves.

Can you walk us through your creative process, from idea to finished piece?

I like to fill my sketchbooks with as many thumbnail sketches as possible. For every finalized toy or print, there are probably 20 rough and messy sketches behind it. If I have an idea, I’ll sketch it out quickly, then follow up with as many alternate versions as I can think of, no matter how weird or dumb they might seem. Sometimes I end up going back to the first sketch, but more often, I find something more interesting in the later iterations.

Once I land on a version I like, I create a cleaner sketch. I still keep it a bit loose, the goal at that stage is to capture the overall gesture and start thinking through the details that will really make it pop. Once I’m happy with the sketch, depending on what it’s for, I’ll either ink it by hand or take it into the computer to finalize the linework and color. It’s a pretty iterative process, but that’s what keeps it fun.

Many of your works have bold, playful, and sometimes mischievous elements—what message or emotion do you hope people feel when they see them?

Above all, I hope people find my work fun. I love getting a smile or a smirk out of collectors. A lot of what I draw is the kind of stuff I would have been obsessed with as a teenager, when I was reckless, young, and a bit of a punk.

What’s interesting is that many of the older collectors who connect with my work still seem to carry a bit of that youthful energy in them, no matter where they are in life now. My hope is that my work reconnects them with the young adult they used to be, and that it brings back a sense of joy, playfulness, or even mischief they might not get to tap into every day.

How has your art evolved since you first started putting it out into the world?

When I first started, my focus was almost entirely on stickers. I was living in Seattle at the time, which had a phenomenal sticker scene. As a broke twenty-something, I would spend late nights wandering the city, putting up as many hand-drawn stickers as I could.

When I moved back to New York, I started meeting other street artists and switched to screen-printed stickers. That saved me a ton of time and let me get up a lot more. It was still just a fun art hobby, though. I made some t-shirt runs for my friends and started experimenting with small paintings.

The real shift happened when a friend convinced me to learn 3D. That eventually led to my first vinyl toy release with Strange Cat Toys, which felt like my first “big boy” artist moment. That’s when I realized there were people, beyond just my friends, who were genuinely interested in my work. It all really took off from there.

What role does community or collaboration play in your practice as an artist?

The sticker community is massive and constantly evolving, there are always new artists coming up with incredible work. I try to collaborate as often as I can, and I’ve found that it pushes my art in directions I wouldn’t have gone on my own.

As a character artist, it’s easy to fall into a rhythm where your work starts to feel repetitive. Collaborating with other artists forces you to think differently, to integrate your style with someone else’s vision. Some of my favorite pieces have come from collabs where the idea was something I never would’ve come up with alone.

What’s been the most memorable reaction someone has had to your work?

One of the most unforgettable reactions I’ve ever gotten was from a friend’s son, who was around 8  at the time. He saw my toys for the first time and just froze, his jaw literally dropped. You could see the gears turning in his head, like he was realizing this whole other world existed. He was full of questions, bouncing with excitement, asking how they were made, if I designed them all myself, if he could hold one. That kind of pure, unfiltered joy and wonder is what makes it all worth it. It reminded me of what it felt like to discover art and collectibles for the first time as a kid. My friend tells me that his son now draws all the time. 

How do you balance tradition and innovation in your artistic style? (Sorry my answer is kind of repetitive from before)

For me, tradition and innovation go hand-in-hand. A lot of my work is rooted in traditional Korean folklore. Like I mentioned before, I like to weave in subtle nods to traditional art forms, like minhwa-style illustrations or traditional patterns pulled from old Korean art books. At the same time, I’m heavily influenced by contemporary culture; street art, music, etc. My process reflects that mix. I think for me the balance comes from utilizing pieces of the past and filtering them through my own lens and experiences.

Outside of visual art, what other forms of creativity or culture inspire you? (music, fashion, film, etc.)

Outside of visual art, I definitely draw a lot of inspiration from music and film. My music tastes shift constantly; some days it’s punk, other days it’s hip hop, reggaeton, classic rock, or metal. Whatever I’m listening to while I work tends to influence how my characters turn out. Lately, I’ve been digging back into old-school punk albums, and you can see it in the mohawks and patched jackets that keep popping up in my designs. Film is also a great source of creative fuel, especially when I’m hitting a bit of artist’s block. Giving myself a movie-themed prompt can help get things moving again. For example, on a recent collab sticker with wheat paste artist 1krl0s, I was feeling stuck and ended up creating a Mad Max-style War Boy character, which turned out to be one of my favorite stickers in a while.

Looking ahead, what projects or goals are you most excited about in the next few years?

– I’m really hoping to get back into larger-scale paintings. I’m a new dad and also work a 9–5, so time has been tight; but I recently had the chance to create a big piece for Abstract Denver, and it reminded me how much I love working on that scale. I came away from that project with some new ideas and techniques I’m excited to bring to canvas again. I’m also planning to develop a new toy with Strange Cat Toys in the next year or two, which I’m really looking forward to. Toy design has been such a fun extension of my work, and I’m always excited to see how these characters evolve in 3D.

By day, you design branding for companies, by night, you’re Dokebi the illustrator. How do you balance the different styles and creative demands? 

Some days I balance it better than others. The day job always comes first; it pays the bills and supports the family, so when it’s demanding, that definitely affects how much energy I can put into Dokebi work. But I usually have 4–5 Dokebi projects running at once, and each requires a different level of creative focus. For example, I’ll save inking and linework for days when my day job has drained me creatively; because by then, the core idea is already there and I’m just cleaning it up. On the flip side, I save sketching and painting sessions for days when I have a bit more creative bandwidth. That way, I can channel whatever energy I have left into something new and exciting.

Chaos and a little bit of mischief are part of your self-described way of working, what does that entail? 

My work really began with putting up stickers on the street. It was a free, spontaneous way to explore cities, seeing them from a perspective most people overlook. As I transitioned into a more professional art space, it became even more important to me that my work still lives on the backs of street signs and in dive bar bathrooms. The chaos and mischief come from the fact that, at its core, a lot of my work functions as minor vandalism. I’ve handed out thousands of stickers over the years, and I regularly get photos from people putting them up in cities I’ve never even been to. It’s become a kind of participatory art practice; one that spreads the fun, the mischief, and the energy of street art far beyond what I could ever do alone.