LUKE AGNEW

At The Square Club, we’re passionate about supporting the city’s creative talent and giving a platform to emerging artists. This quarter, we’re delighted to exhibit the work of Luke Agnew in our Square Gallery.

Having studied Drawing and Applied Arts at UWE, Agnew is now based in Stroud and will be showcasing his latest body of work in our Square Gallery from November through January.

The first time I encountered Agnew’s work was through the iconic Vegan Spam collection, an exhibition that transformed the humble canned good into a pop-culture commentary. But what has stayed with me since is not just the playfulness of the work, but the deeper themes it explores.

With his exhibition officially launched in our Square Gallery, we sat down with Agnew to find out more about his practice and creative journey.

Your art explores some particularly prevalent themes. Can you tell us more about your practice?

My practice uses humour, repetition, and visual noise to explore the contradictions of modern life — particularly the tension between consumerism, ecology, and our often-failed attempts to live sustainably in a world built on excess.

Critically endangered animals frequently feature in my work — not as tragic figures, but as bold, graphic presences. Zebras, gorillas, lynxes… I’m interested in how they’re commodified, like how zebras become living barcodes — repackaged as luxury experiences on hunting reserves.

In other pieces, I draw on pop culture symbols — like Vegan Spam or Furbees — to probe the absurdities of consumer culture and the strange myths that grow around it. These works force a kind of friction: humour rubbing against unease, nostalgia against dystopia.

My work leans into experimentation, particularly with spray paint for its urgency and chaotic edge. I gravitate toward vibrant, high-contrast colour palettes — deliberately eye-catching and seductive, designed to grab attention before asking the viewer to sit with a deeper discomfort. If someone laughs, thinks, then feels slightly unsettled, I know the piece is doing its job.

How did you develop your artist style and find your preferred medium to work in?

I started out as a teenager in my bedroom, cutting stencils from cereal boxes — simple things I could spray when I was out and about to quickly leave my mark. It was usually something tongue-in-cheek, like a Powerpuff Girl smoking a bong.

For years after that, I focused on animals, especially species on the brink of extinction. Those pieces were highly detailed and exacting — like with my lynx work, where I tried to sculpt the form of the cat just through the patterns of its fur. The stencils for those pieces are so intricate they’re almost like lacework.

More recently, I’ve been breaking away from that precision and leaning into something louder and more playful. The colourful, consumer-driven side of my work — things like Vegan Spam and Furbees — has become a way to explore similar ideas about value, survival, and excess, but with more humour and chaos. Spray paint ties it all together: it’s flat, fast, and messy, but I love pushing depth and energy out of such a stripped-back medium.

Which artists or movements have most influenced your creative journey?

Going to uni in Bristol felt like living inside a 24/7 gallery. The early-morning taste of spray paint mist as you wandered home, mind-blowing pieces you’d only hear about through word of mouth, racing to see them before they were covered by something even more incomprehensible — it was constant inspiration.

There are millions of nameless artists whose work opened me up to the possibilities of a humble can, and I owe a lot to that energy. Pop art has also been a big influence because it feels so accessible — I just love that vibrant, ecstatic hit of colour. I’m crap with names, so I can’t reel off a long list of inspirations, but there were so many independent exhibitions I’d wander into and take little tasters of culture away from, ferreting them into my own work over time.

Obviously, Banksy was a huge deal in Bristol — his playfulness and wit have always been something I admire. And I love Warhol’s use of colour; standing in front of his work is like ramming Haribo straight into your eyes.

And finally — where do you see your work going next?

As I start to exhibit coherent bodies of work, I’m really enjoying the idea of creating an experience for the viewer. Previously, I mostly worked on standalone pieces, but now I love filling a whole wall with playful variations on a single concept. I’d love to expand that further — bigger, more immersive, and more chaotic.

I’m still a bit bound by my studio and exhibition spaces, but ideally I’d love to tackle some spicy 15ft tiger shark works — something that really hits you in the face and makes you feel part of the world I’m creating.

But in all honesty, I don’t have a f*cking clue, and I don’t really want to. I’m not really bothered about the end result — in fact, I’m a bit fearful of the destination if it takes away from the journey. The thrill of spraying the final layer on a piece without knowing how it will turn out, or that first spray on a stencil I’ve spent 30 hours cutting, is so exhilarating and addictive — it’s the process itself that keeps me coming back, every single time.

Keep up to date with The Square Club’s rotating exhibition of Bristol artists here.