“My objective is to give form to and translate a personal experience of life into something universally relatable.”

Dan Mauz (b. Daniele Maurizi, 1991, Rome) is a conceptual artist based in London. His exhibition, Visual Lexicon Vol. 1 at Park Royal Gallery (10–31 July 2025), brought together paintings, sculptures, furniture design, and installations. Dan breaks from expected forms of art to explore the essence of found objects – not to subvert their meaning, but to expand it.

Silhouettes, leather boots, knives, holy relics, and neon lighting appear across the show. By using objects already charged with cultural associations, he develops a visual vocabulary that is both personal and universal. Thus, through his personal lens and the use of familiar items, Dan aims to reflect upon collective dynamics of the existential: faith, sexuality, social paradoxes, and the self, to name a few.

The sculptural piece Cloud Chair achieves softness by means of bedding material installed onto a see-through acrylic chair. The immediate visual response is that of a floating, fluffy cloud one just can’t wait to sit on. More than conceptually revealing, this work wants to satisfy a personal/collective fantasy, as well as displaying an unorthodox yet effective approach to plastic research.

Other works, such as Leave Me Alone, a cow figurine installed in the middle of a vast green backdrop, or Rocking Jesus, an early 20th-century plaster icon balanced on a rocking device, layer humour with deeper symbolic weight.

Leave Me Alone is (at this stage) a 3-square-metre wall installation formed of nine green panels (framed). The moment the cow figurine is placed, the monochrome panels transform into a field. Leave Me Alone is a tribute to the longing for ownership of one’s space. For the right to exist undisturbed.

“Titles are essential to the artworks as they give a clear clue to the artist’s perspective and what, I believe, should be carried along as the only trace of the artist’s voice about the piece once the work is completed and stands autonomous, away from its maker. Excessive texts or explanations undermine the visual task. I consider a work successful when it evokes clear intention through visual language alone.”

Camera d’Attesa, Army Bag and R.I.P. from the artist’s Sky series point to themes of time, freedom, and mortality. The humorous surfaces and stylistic choices of these and other pieces only make the conceptual tensions sharper.

Visual Lexicon should be understood within the context of Dan’s fluid approach; he has no fixed technique, but he himself functions as a boundless translator of ideas. For him, the creative approach always serves the concept. In other words, Dan’s method is defined not by a specific medium but by his thoughtful process and freedom of execution.

“Only in art can I think of a place of absolute freedom – in adulthood, I see art as the last resort of play and unconditioned expression of the self. To confine creativity to a single practice would be, for me, to cage this precious gift once again.”

Instead of retreating into the safety of a repetitive technique or decorative motives, Dan Mauz continues dutifully along his concept-based path. Maintaining an equally balanced care for aesthetics, he pursues what he believes to be the purest role of visual art: to channel and generate meaning where words fail.

Kunsang Vincentz, the founder, carefully oversees each small batch. Standing over a control panel, he monitors the beans as they tumble through the hot drum, ensuring precision end-to-end in every roast.

I was eager to learn about the more hands-on, analogue aspects of coffee roasting. But as I observed, it became clear that the whole operation is greater than the sum of its parts. Intermission Coffee’s vision reaches beyond the roastery itself, they collaborate with local makers, host workshops, and organize tasting events. Curious to understand how they’ve evolved over the years, I asked a few questions.

What are the interventions you love the most when crafting the intermission products?

I think sourcing is the most fun, tasting new coffee samples and choosing with the team, seeing which coffee each staff member prefers and why and how this fits our current offering. It’s super interesting exploring the world from our cupping (tasting) table, seeing what each origin and process tastes like.

Roasting can be somewhat unromantic and very repetitive, it is more like a factory or workshop than people imagine, but still it’s very satisfying to really nail a roast down and for it to be appreciated.

Do your customers tend to be experimental with different batches?

Many retail consumers in our shop grab our house coffee, but they appreciate the tips and thoughts about how to brew and make the coffee even if they're a “typical” consumer. Most people want something easy in an already busy day, but some people are curious and are willing to go down the rabbit hole, so you just need to read the room and see how much information is relevant to that person.

You mentioned you value letting the innate flavour of the bean speak in your batches rather than covering it up with an all-over roasted flavour. Could you tell me a little more about how you achieve this?

The majority of the flavour is locked in at origin, through the producer, processing and milling. My job as a roaster I think is to not screw that up, and represent it in a way that shows the innate character of the coffee but equally makes sure the roast is developed correctly such that it's usable by home users and baristas alike. This is the balance. Can someone with little knowledge throw this coffee in their machine and still enjoy it, and potentially see that expression of flavour from the varietal (varietal e.g = Granny Smith or Pink Lady in apples) and the origin and the processing.

If a fine rye bread, a sourdough bread and a more standard pre-sliced supermarket brand bread are all burnt in a toaster, you're really just tasting the carbon, the process of toasting the bread, not the actual bread. Toasting it just enough to have a nice texture and crunch and sweetness whilst retaining the character of the bread is a simplified but useful analogy.

I am very interested in hearing how one starts developing their coffee palette. Could you make an entry-level suggestion for both a flat-white lover and a long-black lover?

People can perceive flavour differently through genetic expressions including some people experiencing extreme variances with bitterness or for example a strong aversion to Cilantro (can taste like soap). Some flavour attributions are culturally influenced (growing up with completely different foods), and others are trained.

To start with I would recommend being more intentional. Not just with coffee but food in general. If you already like trying different cuisines or cocktails or fragrances then you'll have an easier time stepping into the nerdy coffee world. Remember that ultimately it's subjective. The phrase “the customer is always right” was actually “the customer is always right in matters of taste”, which just means your experience is your own.

Take a moment, sit in the coffee shop, try to taste it without sugar if possible and see what sort of things you experience. Bitterness, sourness, balance, astringency, sweetness? Is it full-bodied like hot chocolate or light-bodied, like a Darjeeling tea?

If you're not sure about bitterness or sourness, get a lemon and eat the flesh (sour) and then eat the pith (bitter) and see where they are represented in your mouth, and when do these sensations arrive, at the beginning or the end?

Over time, you could visit different coffee shops and ask the baristas what you're drinking. Try to taste the coffee and pay attention, especially when it's cooler in temperature (you can perceive more flavour) and go back to the barista or coffee bag and see if you're getting any of those notes. In time, continuing to do this and eating various foods and fruits and paying attention when you do, being present, your abilities will only improve.

If you're really eager, you can see if a coffee shop or company is hosting brewing or “cupping” events, which is like wine tasting for coffee and you can hone your skills further.

What does having a coffee business in London in 2025 mean to you?

Grateful, challenging, and pretty cool when I take the time to sit back and think about it.

It's not something I really expected to happen, it was a brief conversation which felt more like expressing a dream and then suddenly it's happening.

It's definitely a slog, a highly competitive industry, especially the coffee roasting side. There's long weeks and months with little sign of break or holidays haha, and to be completely honest if I knew all this in a tangible way beforehand, I might have thought twice about it all, but ultimately I am grateful and find new ways to appreciate what we have achieved.

Receiving a positive reception, a nice review, hearing what other people think helps me look outside the box and always makes my day.

Follow @intermission.coffee on Instagram and check out their website to shop for their products and stay up to date.

The works hold nostalgia for the all-consuming effects of film, TV and social media. Among the works in the show you might find Mrs Doubtfire in hair and makeup, film sets undergoing light tests and crew members clearing debris.

The show featured selected works created over the past year in his studio in the industrial area of Park Royal, London which is also the location of the set building company he works for. Hancock’s radioactive colours and rusty textures can be found in the surrounding streets. I visited Harry to ask him some questions about his artistic background and the show.

Can you tell me a little about where you grew up and your artistic background?

I grew up near Grantham and went to Bath School of Art and Design to study my BA (Hons) in Fine Art after college.

I love looking at texture and surfaces and what can be achieved with various media but for a while didn't know how to achieve the finishes I wanted. With my job as a scenic painter, I have developed the technical aspects of painting and learnt various industry techniques, finding ways to utilise them in my own work.

Did you get into film set painting because you were a big film nerd?

Not really, I love films, but I guess it happened naturally. After finishing my Fine Art degree, a family friend knew of a theatre company in the countryside in Lincolnshire. I rang them up and asked if I could do some work experience which turned into my first job as a scenic painter. When I showed up on my first day there was a bin fire in the courtyard, and I thought "What the hell is this, am I in the right place?". It was an old, filthy, cluttered farm building owned by the villain straight out of a Dickensian novel. I made some friends there, and one of them, who I still work with now, brought me into the film industry.

It seems like you aren’t afraid of colour and tone. At times you use lovely dark colours atop pastel backdrops. Is there much planning in your use of colour or does it come quite intuitively from your work experience?

The first thing I often react to when I enter a room is the colour and scale of a painting. So I do put a lot of consideration into my colour choices, but often end up making drastic changes halfway into making a painting.

There's an obvious interest in the way mood is set with colour. Colour grading using LUTs in movies is something I find pretty good as a reference, you know, stereotypically shooting a scene set in England there might be a prevailing colourless grey over everything, versus Mexico which is given an oversaturated hazy orange tone.

Lomography 35mm film shots from my housemate's camera rolls is another resource I draw from, she took the photo I used for Universal Providers which is of a New York street scene on a film set in LA, it has a wild west colour and feel.

Is there any other media that you pull from the visual language of film?

All over really, whether it's social media, TV, old magazines or pretty much anywhere on the Internet. I often start with a digital collage and painting in Procreate, a watercolour monotype to free myself from the control I have on the image is usually what follows.

How I continue depends on how the monotypes come out. If I like it, I'll just leave it. If I don't, it's open for destruction. On the Beach was the most meticulously planned because it is the largest watercolour monotype I've made to date. I used one screen printing screen 3 times, moving it around the paper. The main image is a still of Charlton Heston from Planet of the Apes. For the collage, I overlaid various images, one of which is a painting of a boat that I'd found somewhere on the internet and the sail formed what in the image is the beach.

So really the only thing that remains from the reference is the man on the rock. All of these images of people or celebrities in altered states, modified in a way that they have a resemblance of their original state but stripped of their original context. They keep washing back up on the shore with and you know people cut, edit and repurpose them and they constantly take on new meaning and are far removed from what they originally were.

Some works look like the view of the camera with a figure on a background, while others are zoomed out and have a behind-the-scenes. When the crew and workers feature in the works they lump together, gestures of action or holding equipment bleed into one another, I wonder if you can comment on these two types of views?

The people working are always trapped in a moment between a shoot. They are much more invisible in terms of their labour and are more formless but keep everything held together. On a set people will have to stand silently and the stillest that I ever actually see people.

“Stags” are stagehands at work. They do a lot of the clearing up and anything and everything. It can be a dusty, heavy job and it's like any construction site. That's a bit of a theme showing that alongside more strip-backed stills.

For Face Off I started with an image of Robin Williams getting prosthetics for Mrs Doubtfire. I added this image in the background of this studio a sort of plastic surgery or something going on on a giant screen that felt a bit like Terry Gilliam’s Brazil. I really like Magritte's crisis of the object and come back to it regularly, in this case playing on the double image pun.

I’m interested in the consumption of high-budget film images and how people’s desires are influenced by fabricated scenes. I read about influencers paying to pretend they're on a private jet for photographs. I had this idea for Grounded of a guy pumping out the clouds with a smoke machine, becoming an unseen part of the illusion he creates.

All images are courtesy of the artist.

Where did you grow up?

I grew up in Northwest London in Kilburn, on an estate. It was an incredible place to be in the 80s and 90s but also was quite traumatic at times. My estate was in-between three others, there were hundreds of kids and you're all the same and you don't know you're poor, working class.

I'm not familiar, is it quite a poverty-stricken area?

Yeah, like every neighbourhood of London there are areas of poverty. Kilburn was a different world compared to where we are now. It was quite innocent really. Everything was still very local, local life, local news and local papers and yeah it was amazing. I mean admittedly a lot of bad stuff did happen. I've been in therapy for many years which helped me through that. At the same time, it was exhilarating and fun and it helped me grow up and it showed me so much about life. I put my mum through a lot as well, I found graffiti at 15 and she was really upset but she was so proud of me as it developed into what it did. She told me later on she knew every time I snuck out at night to paint and she couldn't sleep until I came back in. It was hard for her.

What got you into graffiti?

One hard thing about growing up in those estates, the hundreds of kids, I wanted to be known. I tried a lot of different ways to get that notoriety, and crime was one of them. A lot of shit went on, gang affiliations, police and stuff and it wasn't getting me the name I wanted. I'd always loved graffiti, and I met another kid in school, and he tagged. The moment I found that connection, that ‘in’, I started painting and was like, “This is what I'm going to do. This is where I'll get my name, and no one gets hurt.”

I remember getting approached by a group of guys I used to hang around with before graffiti. They asked “What the fuck are you doing writing Daz shit around the area? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

I remember replying, “I'm not who I thought I was. I am this person.”

And they were taken aback by me saying that because I stood on it so much. Like, this is who I am. I'm not the person you thought I was or who I thought I was. It was quite a pivotal moment for me. I was really proud of myself that day because it came out so naturally.

Yeah, the 90s were mental. It was also a wicked evolving time in graffiti culture. Magazines, videos and websites by the late nineties were coming out. I became a dad in 2000 and I still painted quite hardcore when Josh was very young. I was still painting trains. I wasn't tagging as much. I moved to Brighton actually just before he was born and I opened the UK's first graffiti art gallery there in 2003.

What was the gallery about?

I didn't care what you painted, you could paint a hoover but as long as you were a graffiti writer and you painted it on a canvas I'd try and sell it. But I was very strict, I was very young and arrogant so there were no stencils allowed, no tape, and everything had to be freehand. It had clothing, spray paint and records too. It evolved into this beautiful space and a lot of people took part in it. That shop was really influential, it was a wicked spot. My friend Ewen joined me in the space in 2006 and solidified the record stock and sales. RareKind Records is still in Brighton. It's lovely to have set something up 21 years ago and it's still going.

Who was buying the works?

The shop very rarely made its own money. Not once in my eight or nine years did it ever really make its own money. I would get a painting commission and, go out, make a few grand, and have the rent for a couple of months. Paintings in the shop sold, I just wasn't making much from other people's sales. The shop was more of a youth centre than a retail establishment.

When you came back to London were you pursuing the same style as you are now?

When I shut the gallery, I had all these artists attached to me in a way. I set up an agency. I was pushing the agency, and through that I’ve managed art projects including hotels and residential buildings in other cities and worked with various brands on campaigns. I can paint graffiti and I can paint a portrait and I can paint typography but I hadn't found this current style until 2018. These three paintings at Excelsior were the beginning of this style. The break from Covid gave me that luxury of time to really concentrate on something and through that time I practised my own art. I know what I want to paint, I know it's abstract and it is mixed paint. I've got a story within it now and meaning. Post-COVID, we did the One West residential towers in North Acton. I was commissioned to produce a mural on every floor, 91 in total over 3 buildings, art galleries in the shared spaces and we did all the way-finding signage.

How did you get into the series in your recent show at Excelsior?

That whole last series was basically about my mum and my mother-in-law because they both passed away in the last year and both had dementia. Mum had cancer as well, and it was just fucking hard, emotionally hard. I've done these four massive paintings, two by two-metre paintings. It ended up becoming a series of seasons called A Life of Springs, A Life of Summers, A Life of Autumns and A Life of Winters. And so whilst doing those four paintings, it was about those two women and their lives. The glitch paintings I produce are about relationships and the fractures in them, whether good or bad and how you survive them. I felt very complete with that, my work had a reason.

How did you get into the 3D realm?

That was just a mad fluke. I am playing on Illustrator and asked around and Paola from Blast studios gave me some tips on how to use software to realise these ideas.

It looked like hundreds of hours of work in that show.

29 pieces I put in there, a lot of work and time but what an amazing time for me. I sold the four seasons paintings, the four big ones, and that was hard because they meant so much to me. I delivered them a couple of weeks ago. It's quite strange to have them gone now. But also, a proud moment because the buyer obviously felt an affinity with them, and he didn't really know the story about the painting. So yeah, I was very proud of that show. I mean, I just want to be an artist. That's all I want to do really.

But I can't deny to myself what I've done with RareKind and what I'm doing. So it's like that helps me be a bit braver, you know? Take the fucking risk, make the piece, buy the fucking gear or software and use it. You stand by your work.

Interview from October 2024. All images are courtesy of the artist unless otherwise stated.

Julia Nova on Instagram

Where were you born and where did you grow up? How did you get into painting?

Ah, that’s never a straightforward answer! I feel like a citizen of the world, really. I was born in Kishinev, with a mix of Ukrainian and Russian heritage, grew up in Cyprus, and for the past 20 years, London has been my home. So yeah, it’s safe to say that my background is as layered and diverse as my work and my identity is shaped by a mix of cultures, places, and experiences!

As for how I got into painting— well it wasn’t a sudden decision, but more of an organic unfolding. Since I was a kid, I’ve always been drawn to art, but I never had the chance to attend art school. Despite that, my passion never wavered. I found ways to express myself through painting, even if it meant working from my kitchen! My university background is in film and graphic design, which I built my career on, but painting was always there, simmering in the background. After the pandemic hit, I think many of us reevaluated our lives, and it was during this time of reflection that I felt a strong pull to follow my dream of being an artist. I finally got myself a studio, and that's when I started truly diving into painting. Over time, I discovered how colour and form could express emotions that words often couldn’t capture, and that became my way of processing the world around me and everything that was happening in it.

What inspires you?

I find inspiration in the way we see and interpret the world, that constant dance between perception and reality—and how it’s different for each person. It’s wild how our minds can twist, reshape, and even completely alter what we see. I’m fascinated by how perceptions change based on where we stand, and I think my paintings reflect that idea of blurred vision. I want viewers to look at my work and interpret it from their own perspective, to make sense of it in their own way.

I know it sounds a bit poetic, but I’m really drawn to the idea of looking deeper - understanding that what we see on the surface isn’t always the full picture. And it rarely is. Just take a look at the world today.

A big part of my practice is the concept of "zooming out"—both visually and metaphorically. It’s about stepping back and seeing the bigger picture, finding clarity in the chaos. Whether that’s on a personal level or in terms of the world around us, nature, the cosmos, and life’s endless cycles all inspire me to explore how we fit into this vast, interconnected world.

The circle is my constant muse and the main character of my art story at the moment. It’s the perfect shape—endless, complete, and timeless. From the stars to the atoms inside us, the circle shape holds the secrets of life and infinity. It’s these universal truths that keep drawing me back to it. Okay, I might be getting poetic again, but it’s true! There’s also something meditative in the repetitive process of painting circles—it’s almost like a journey of self-discovery for me. And I like to think that, when people experience my work, they go on a similar journey, too.

Is there a book or movie (or other media) that relates to the ideas in your work? If so, how?

Wow that an interesting question! One work that really resonates with me is The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. Its focus on mindfulness and living in the present moment mirrors the meditative process I experience while creating my paintings. The idea of being fully aware and present in the moment is central to my work, too—especially when it comes to the repetitive, almost ritualistic nature of painting circles.

I’m also inspired a lot by documentary films like Samsara and Baraka—visual journeys that highlight the deep interconnectedness of humanity, nature, and the universe. Both explore the tension between chaos and harmony, which are themes I play with in my own art. The way the patterns in my paintings come together to form a larger whole is similar to the way these films show the world’s intricate, sometimes chaotic beauty.

And then there’s The Matrix, which aligns with some of the ideas in my work, especially around perception and reality. The film explores how we can get trapped in one version of reality and how zooming out to see the bigger picture can transform our understanding of existence. In a way, that’s what I’m trying to do with my art—each swirl or brushstroke might seem small, but when you step back, it all connects to something larger and deeper. The Matrix touches on the idea of navigating between what’s real and what’s illusion, which is very much aligned with my exploration of human consciousness through circles and forms.

What is your favourite part of the making process?

I think my absolute favourite part of the process has to be when I’ve just applied the first layer of all the colours. It’s still so far from being finished, but I can already see that it’s working and starting to take shape. There’s something so exciting about that moment—it’s like getting a glimpse of the final piece, even though there’s still a long way to go.

I truly love stepping back after hours of focused effort to witness the transformation—the way the intricate chaos of small details comes together to reveal a unified, harmonious whole. That “aha!” moment when chaos turns into clarity is pure joy and reminds me why I love what I do. That moment when everything clicks is so satisfying. I will say, though, that this painting technique demands a lot of skill and patience. It’s incredibly time-consuming, it really is but every hour spent is worth it when I see the finished piece radiate its full energy and life.

What are you working on at the moment that people might want to know about?

Right now, I’m working on a collection of portraits called Can You See Me? I use intricate patterns of circles combined with bold, contrasting colors that shift and transform as you move closer or further away from them. It’s a visual exploration of how our perspectives evolve when we step back from the details to see the bigger picture.

Each portrait is meticulously created with hundreds of carefully placed circles. Up close, you notice the individual shapes and patterns, but as you step back, the painting comes together, revealing a cohesive and striking image. This pointillism technique creates a blurred effect that feels dynamic and open to interpretation. What I find fascinating about this approach is how it invites viewers to engage emotionally with my work. The blurred quality encourages people to project their own feelings onto the portraits, deciding for themselves what the figure is expressing and how it resonates with them. It’s about creating a dialogue between the artwork and the audience, making each connection deeply personal.

Through this collection, I hope to challenge traditional portraiture and offer something fresh—a chance for viewers to pause, reflect, and perhaps even find a moment of peace in the chaos of the world. These works are meant to act as “sanctuaries of peace,” urging people to reconnect with their inner selves and the beauty of the interconnected universe around us.

P.S. Okay, I know—I might be overdoing it with the cosmic metaphors and universal jargon.)) But what can I say? When your art is inspired by circles and infinity, it’s hard not to drift into “philosopher mode.” Maybe next time, I’ll just stick to calling it “a bunch of dots that look cool.” 😉

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