An editorial and an eight-question conversation on art, queer identity, desire, and the business of being yourself.
Some feelings refuse to sit still.
Patrick Church paints them, wears them, turns them into objects, and builds entire worlds around them. His visual universe moves between intimacy and excess, vulnerability and provocation, the deeply personal and the very public business of being seen. Working across art, fashion, and design with his husband and creative partner, Adriel Herrera, Church has turned his own emotional language into something unmistakably his — without pretending that self-expression comes with an instruction manual.
For Vanity Teen, we meet the artist behind the image to talk about the things that resist translation, the strange alchemy of turning private feelings into public objects, and what happens when instinct has to coexist with a business plan. From New York to Miami, from creative chaos to the scent of a future perfume, Church reflects on ego, ambition, and the versions of ourselves we leave behind.
The picture keeps changing. The feelings stay.
You once said you started drawing because you couldn’t find the right words for what you were feeling. Years later, those feelings have become paintings, clothes, objects, and an entire visual universe. Have you finally found the words, or have you simply found more interesting ways to avoid them?
I think I’ve found other ways to express what I feel, but not necessarily the words for it. Making work allows me to communicate things that are sometimes difficult to explain. I’m not sure I’ll ever find all the words, and maybe that’s the beauty of it. I can keep exploring those feelings through different mediums.
Your work is intimate, sexual, sometimes uncomfortable, and unapologetically personal. But the moment you put it on a T-shirt, it becomes something people can buy, wear, photograph, and post. What happens when something deeply private becomes a public image? Does sharing your vulnerability set you free, or does it turn your feelings into a product?
It feels comforting when people connect with what I’m expressing. I’ve always felt alone in a lot of my feelings, so seeing someone relate to my work makes me feel less alone. Even though it becomes something people can wear or share, the meaning is still personal to me. If someone sees themselves in it, then it becomes something we share, and I think that’s really beautiful.
Fashion loves to sell rebellion until rebellion becomes a trend, a campaign, and a mood board. Your work moves between queer identity, eroticism, humour, and a deliberately excessive visual language. How do you keep it genuinely provocative in an industry that has become very good at packaging provocation?
I think it comes naturally because my husband and I work so closely together that creatively, we feel like one person. We’re constantly living inside the universe of my work, so we’re not really thinking about what’s provocative or what’s going to be a trend. We just make things that we genuinely connect with and that excite us. I think staying true to that connection is what keeps the work authentic.
You’ve built a business around a visual language that is unmistakably yours, while working closely with your husband and creative partner, Adriel Herrera. How do you protect the instinctive, sometimes chaotic side of making art while running a brand that has to make commercial sense? And when the artist and the businessman disagree, who gets the final word?
Adriel is the CEO of the brand, and he always encourages me to keep making my artwork and following my instincts. He looks at my work with different eyes, and I really value that perspective. He’s the smartest person I know, especially when it comes to business, and I trust his vision just as much as I trust my own instincts. I think we balance each other really well, and he helps bring that vision into the world in a way that makes sense as a business. We’re very connected creatively, so it never really feels like we’re working against each other. We’re building the same world together.
You’ve spoken about leaving New York and making Miami your home. New York has its own mythology of ambition, nightlife, and creative survival, while Miami seems to operate at a different temperature, both literally and culturally. Has changing cities changed the person making the work, or simply given the same person a different backdrop?
I love both places for different reasons. New York will always have my heart, and it’s a place that means a lot to me. But I love making work in Miami because of the space it gives me to think and feel creative. I love the nature here, the beauty of the environment, and how it influences my everyday life. I don’t think it’s changed who I am as an artist, but it’s given me a different space to explore myself and my work.
From hand-painted leather jackets to gallery exhibitions, interiors, and collaborative projects with Adriel, your practice keeps expanding beyond the traditional idea of an artist. Is there a medium you haven’t conquered yet, or are you more interested in breaking the distinction between art, fashion, and everyday life altogether? And what would you make if nobody expected it to sell?
I would really love to make a perfume. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do because I’ve always been obsessed with perfume. I love the idea of creating something that people can’t see but can feel and carry with them. I’d love to explore it without thinking too much about whether it would sell, just because it’s something I genuinely want to create.
Your work has always been deeply autobiographical, but the person you were when you started painting and the person you are now cannot be exactly the same. When you look back at your earlier work, do you recognise yourself, feel protective of that younger version of you, or sometimes wish you could tell him to get over himself?
My ego has somewhat died. I see my work and myself differently now. I feel more cautious and more aware of how I move through the world. I think getting older has made me question myself more, but also understand myself better. When I look back at my earlier work, I feel connected to that version of me, even if I’m not the same person anymore. I think every version of me has something to teach me.
We always ask our guests to write a letter to their future selves. Imagine you’re reading it ten years from now, when everything you’re working towards has either happened, gone completely off the rails, or turned out to be something you never wanted in the first place. What would you want your future self to remember about the person you are today, before success, expectations, or time changed the picture?
I want to remember how hard Adriel and I worked for everything we built together and how much of ourselves we put into it. I hope that, no matter where life takes us, we never forget what it felt like to be here, creating and figuring things out together. Most importantly, I want to remember to be present, instead of always thinking about what comes next. I don’t want to get so caught up in the future that I forget to appreciate what I have right now.
Photographer: David Gonzalez/Medina
Cover Designer: Alessia Peluso