Artist Daniel David Freeman’s lessons for creative freedom

“I’m trying to stop reinventing the wheel,” artist Daniel David Freeman reflects. ​“Stop worrying. Just doing what I do, and seeing where that takes me really.”

To date, Freeman’s career as an illustrator-artist has gone something like this. Graduating from Camberwell College of Art with a Graphic Design degree, DDF started out as an illustrator drawing gruesome visuals to accompany VICE articles. Exhibiting in dozens of group shows across London – among them Somerset House and the Institute of Contemporary Arts – Freeman has balanced the scales of a respected artistic practise with commercially successful projects for brands, institutions, record labels, publications, streaming platforms, radio stations and musicians.

It was after a Masters degree in Fine Art from Chelsea College of Art (an experience he admits to finding ​“pretty rough”), that Freeman began to understand the distinction between art and commerce in his own work. ​“I learnt so much more about myself and about who I am, which made it easier for me to separate the different categories of what it is I do creatively,” he says.

Away from his self-led solo work, DDF has since opened up ​“a whole new level of creativity” through a Pandora’s box of collaborations, like the wonky, character-led illustration we commissioned him to make to lead our series, The Face X Dr. Martens Presents. With references ranging from subculture to ​‘90s gaming mags and found print memorabilia, DDF’s inspirations are naturally broad, and made wider by working with others. ​“By working with other people, you’re challenged more and it expands your vocabulary a bit more,” Freeman says. ​“You can’t have it your own way. You have to compromise, basically. And that, to me, actually shows a lot; having an idea and then it going through 10 people and still being happy with it at the end.”

Beyond the two-dimensions of his graphic work, Freeman reworks vintage garments, embroidering and screen printing with motifs and logos. A ​“Makers Residency” at Shoreditch ad agency Wieden and Kennedy in 2017 culminated in his solo show Expensive Shit, an exhibition of embroidered military apparel, kimonos and flags spawned from Freeman’s interest in the personal ephemera of war. Freeman’s knack for sourcing and hacking army jackets with graphic logos and designs has since unravelled into an unconventional clothing label under the moniker Get A Life.

“Get A Life is almost like a fake brand in the sense that I’m trying to use fashion as a medium,” he explains. ​“So I’m using all the ways you would promote a brand, i.e. sending out things to people, putting stuff on the Internet all the time, doing collaborations with other artists.”

Where an independent designer may manufacture a limited-edition run of 50 T‑shirts, Freeman only makes one or two of each item. ​“I’m using [fashion marketing] tools to promote myself through the brand without actually having the brand itself,” he explains. ​“I don’t have loads of clothes; it’s all recycled. I’m even recycling within myself, so if I put something on the website now and it hasn’t sold, I’m reusing that jacket. I’m reusing it but the idea is sold out because it’s not actually a product anymore.”

The Get A Life output ranges from the wearable (think: screen-printed hoodies and khaki army jackets) to the absurd, like (THE) WIFE IMITATES ART, a hand screen-printed antique ​“Titanic” life jacket ​“as worn by Leonardo Dicaprio in Romeo and Juliet”. Consider it a hand-wash-only capsule wardrobe for these post-apocalyptic times.

Next, Freeman wants to put on his own event, an exhibition – not in the traditional sense. Selected guests will wear Get A Life garments. ​“A fashion presentation, basically,” Freeman explains. But until lockdown lifts, he’s working on a conversational podcast format or live-streamed talks; peer-to-peer artists’ crits. ​“I think sometimes people need validation,” Freeman concludes. ​“In presenting that kind of conversation to an open audience, it might offer people the opportunity to hear about their own work, whether they’re in the conversation directly or not.”