Foka Wolf is the subversive street artist behind some of the best political commentary in the UK over the last decade.
Foka been using his words to shine a light on societal inequality for the last decade. Whether it’s posters standing up for Palestinian freedom or “interactive” urinals with arms dealers names on them, the Midlands’ maverick has never shied away from making a statement.
Soon, warping people’s perception of reality with his work, became his modus operandi, “I’d found something I loved,” he tells Basement, “Language felt like a form of magic. Words on paper—actual spells. After a piece on 4×4 owners’ penis enlargement went viral, there was no going back, “I realised I had this hidden passion for taking the piss. Especially when it’s aimed upwards.”
After a decade blurring boundaries between the fake and real, Foka has continued to make his ideas bigger and bolder. Fresh from his latest “interactive” art installation at Glastonbury and a flurry of viral videos, we sent some questions over to ceo@megacorpglobal.com to learn more…
When did you first decide to start doing what you do? What inspired you to start disrupting things?
I was always into satire, comedy, and surrealism growing up, but the real turning point was discovering Operation Mindfuck, The Situationists, and Discordianism. I stumbled on all of that while reading a book about the electronic music duo, The KLF. That cracked something open in my brain.
I’d already been into street art—mainly drawing things, printing them big, and sticking them up. But once I discovered the idea of fake adverts that mess with people’s perception of reality, I was hooked. It started small: post-it-sized bits, hand-written, badly spelled, and totally surreal. Stuff like: “IZ UR NAN POSSESSED? CALL 0121 FOKA WOLF.”
That was fun for a few weeks, but I wanted to go bigger. I knew a place that printed 90cm-wide rolls from when I was doing my drawings, so I decided to make a full-blown giant advert. It was 180cm tall, 300cm wide, and read: “DO YOU DRIVE A 4X4 IN THE CITY? YOU COULD BE ENTITLED TO A FREE PENIS ENLARGEMENT ON THE NHS.”
I even added a Skype number with a Birmingham area code. It blew up—people rang in, left voicemails, got angry, confused, amused… and the whole thing went viral. Newspapers picked it up. That’s when I realised I’d found something I loved. Language felt like a form of magic. Words on paper—actual spells.
Do you live a relatively normal life, or work a normal job, outside of your art?
Sort of. Eight years ago, I was a labourer on a building site, working for steel erectors. I’d been doing it four years and genuinely thought I’d fucked my life. I was unskilled, approaching 30, and totally lost. Then I met someone getting into sign painting and thought: fuck it, I could do that. So I pursued it.
Becoming a freelance sign painter and mural artist gave me loads of free time, which meant more time for street art—and that’s when things started to snowball. Honestly, I have to pinch myself most days because it’s so far removed from how life used to be. But yeah, I live in a terrace house in suburbia. I’ve got my daughter half the time. I drink coffee. I like a walk in the park. It’s not all chaos.
How did you first get started out, and what was the first piece that made you want to keep going?
Definitely the 4×4 penis enlargement piece. Something clicked when I made it. I realised I had this hidden passion for taking the piss—especially when it’s aimed upwards.
When did you realise your work was having an impact?
When strangers started responding. Some were angry, some confused, but most of them were engaged. And then it went viral. That was the moment I knew I was tapping into something real.
We saw your Rod Stewart flag at Glasto. Was that in response to him backing Nigel Farage?
It was, yeah. People can have their opinions, but Farage can go and fuck himself. This country is nothing without immigration—our whole musical and cultural legacy is built on it.I grew up in Small Heath, a multicultural area in Birmingham. I am a product of multiculturalism. So when people start attacking these communities, I take it personally. Sure, there are issues—but most of them come down to poverty. And poverty is something that Farage and Rod Stewart know fuck all about. I see forces out there trying to divide us and feed off the energy. That’s why I do what I do
You worked closely with Glastonbury this year – what was that like?
Glasto’s immense. It’s an inspiring place to be an artist because everyone brings their A-game. I used to go loads when I was younger, but only started going again three years ago through Shangri-La. Working there is a dream come true.
That said, I do feel like the ticket prices have priced out a lot of working-class people. But the crew, hospitality staff, and the workers—they bring the vibe. Without them, the soul of the place would be gone.
Your work deals with protest and political issues—especially recently with your support for Palestinian freedom. What advice would you give to people who want their voices heard?
Keep it in the public consciousness. Keep talking. Keep pushing. The media will try to bury it, but it’s our job to make sure it stays relevant.
What annoys you most about British society right now—or is it an endless list?
Where do I start? Honestly, it’s people from working or middle-class backgrounds siding with billionaires and big business over their fellow human beings—or the planet.
How fucking dumb do you have to be to think those people are looking out for you?
You see it with everything: climate denial, anti-immigration stuff, surveillance. It all blends together. Like—people denying climate change and hating immigrants, but not realising that climate change will literally create more migration.Oh, and people who litter. What the fuck is that about?
What’s the most widely believed lie in society?
That GDP is a measure of a healthy society. It’s not. Who the hell came up with that? A literal psychopath.
What’s one truth you wish everyone universally believed?
That we have way more in common with each other than what divides us.
Your work is often critical, but never really negative. How important is optimism—faux or otherwise—in your work?
Massively. People don’t want negativity shoved down their throats—we get enough of that already.
I’ve always believed that humour is a better delivery system. People double down when they feel challenged, so I try to sneak ideas in through the back door. Surrealism and comedy help me reach the people on the fence—not just preach to the echo chamber.
What’s your favourite piece you’ve ever made, and why?
Voodoo Classes for Kids. It was the second piece I ever made. It led to a call from the head of Birmingham’s Pentecostal Church—and a death threat. That’s a big win in my book.
I just loved the mash-up of a local after-school club with occultism. It made total sense to me after being brought up in Catholic schools.
If you had the whole world’s attention for one message, what would you say?
You are more powerful than you know. There’s a reason they used to burn the witches.
Humour is central to your work. Why is it so important to you?
Humour cracks people open. It softens even the most hardwired minds. And those are exactly the people we need to reach. Once they laugh, they listen—and that’s when you can really plant a seed.
What do you think has been your most impactful piece to date?
Probably the fake Conservative ad: “We plan to cut homeless people in half by 2025.”
It still does the rounds online. What’s interesting is, people in the UK instantly got the joke—but loads of people abroad thought it was a genuine copywriting error. It went viral off the back of that confusion. I find that fascinating—how an accidental-seeming mistake can carry so much weight.
What’s next for Foka Wolf?
More immersive public installations. A few months ago I made an epitaph in a urinal called Rest in Piss, listing the top 100 weapons company CEOs. You could literally piss on them. That’s the direction I want to go in—more interactive, more provocative, more engaging.
