Sport arrived early in his life, first as a spectacle, and then as a ritual, a way of remembering iconic larger than life figures through his artworks. An obsession that surfaces in collage-driven, mixed-media portraits that treat athletes not as statistics, but as mythology. Fries’ work sits where football posters and animation frames collide – a place where Zidane’s header, Beckham’s free kick or Rodman’s outstretched arms can be cut, reassembled and exaggerated into something both nostalgic and sharply contemporary. His characters carry the geometry of design, the imperfections of hand-made work, and the emotional weight of childhood memory.

Across almost twenty years in graphic design, video and 3D, he has moved through agencies, television, gaming and teaching, only to circle back to a simple principle: make what you love, not what the algorithm expects. Sport, in his universe, is an excuse to talk about identity, style, rebellion, joy.

How did your relationship with sport growing up lead it to become part of your artistic exploration?

“Since I was a little boy, sport has always been there. Football, cycling, tennis. I’m from Belgium, and my team has always been Club Bruges. When I was a child, I was obsessed with Daniel Amokachi, this Nigerian striker they had. My dad bought me the full kit – jersey, shorts, everything – so I could train and play in that outfit. When I scored, I copied his celebration. I even wore Puma boots because he wore them. He also scored the first Champions League goal for Club Bruges, and as a kid that was huge for me.

I turned 40 this October, and I felt myself getting really nostalgic, revisiting all those sports highlights from back in the day. I went down the YouTube rabbit hole, watching old football clips – AC Milan against Inter, those incredible lineups. It felt like watching a Nike commercial: Zlatan against Ronaldo, Hernán Crespo, Maldini…

I started digging again. When I made the Zidane artwork, it came directly out of watching those videos and thinking: ‘What if I create pieces around my favourite football players from the 90s and early 2000s?’ I still have a long list of iconic players from my childhood I want to work with: Ravanelli, Vialli. And then all those Brazilians – Cafu, Ronaldinho, Roberto Carlos – they showed fun on the pitch. That era had a culture of joy that will stay forever. I don’t see as much fun now. Some players today don’t even have the courage to shoot, because they have to follow the path set by the managers. Everything feels more controlled.

I’m not a huge basketball addict, but when I was young, I was really into the Chicago Bulls. They just had something magical. And then Dennis Rodman arrived – a completely unique person. He did his job on the court, and then went out and partied. He became culture, he transcended sport. A pop icon, and also an art subject. Everybody knows him: the hair, the nail polish during games. He just did his own thing. He was the first sportsman I saw in my life who really did what he wanted to do. Of course he had his struggles, but he still did it. That stuck with me.”

You’ve spent almost 20 years working in graphic design, video production, 3D and advertising, a lot of it linked to sport. If we rewind everything: what was the first sports-related image or project that made you feel you were developing your own style – your own visual language – in the way you approach sports today?

“I think it started around 2007, when I joined an agency for my first job. I was about 22. They did a lot of collage work, and the boss was a very good illustrator. He didn’t really illustrate anymore, but he loved when we, as designers, used characters in campaigns. That’s where the collage and character thing I do now really began.

Then something happened: we started doing a lot of work for television and gaming. I stopped illustrating. I stopped making characters. I was making cool films, very graphic pieces, still with collage, but they were explainer videos, motion pieces… nothing with characters. I did that for almost five years. I didn’t create anything truly personal during that time.

Eventually I tried to create something again and I got stuck. My sense of identity had left. I didn’t know what I should do next, and I felt blocked. Then I took a course – a workshop by one of my favourite designers, Ariel Costa, a Brazilian artist. He was one of the first to really combine collage, character design and special shapes in a way that felt fresh. He made us understand something simple but powerful: you don’t need to make things for Instagram, you don’t need to make things for people. Just make what you like. So I started making things I liked, and I felt totally inspired again. I still work that way now.

For example, I did a David Beckham-inspired artwork because I watched the documentary about him again. I’m planning to do Jordan too, because I’ve watched his documentary for the fourth time. If I create something, it’s because it has a meaning for me. There’s always a reason behind the choice of subject.

That’s also something I try to give back to other young designers. I teach at a school, with 20-year-old students, and I try to prepare them a little for freelance life and the professional world. I try to teach them the same things I went through: don’t make stuff for other people, don’t chase trends. If you have a scrap of paper on the train and you sketch something you think is cool – share that. Put out the things you love, not what you think other people want.”

Athleta Mag try to look at sport as culture – a door to talk about more than competition. When you design an artwork around sport, what are you trying to say about that sport, that player, that team or that jersey? What’s the meaning behind it for you?

“Sometimes it’s funny to see how, in the graphic world, a lot of people in art aren’t very sports-minded. In the last few years it’s been getting better – probably because more people watch sports now. But ten years ago, when I was working, there were twenty of us working there. I’d ask if someone watched the game on tv and nobody had watched football.

You can do so much with sports and art now. I see a lot of great stuff online – really cool work. Most of the time in my pieces, I just want to keep the nostalgic part of my life alive. That’s the core. These players became larger than life figures for me. So when I create something around them, it’s not only about the sport or the result. It’s about preserving that feeling of myth, that emotion from my childhood, and translating it into a contemporary visual language.”

You’ve started working directly with football clubs, sports organisations and brands. How do you approach those kinds of projects visually? Do you stay fully true to your own philosophy, or do you adapt to each context?

“I had a job for SLS – Street League Skateboarding. They basically came to me and said: ‘We like your artwork. We have 11 skaters and we want you to do your thing.’ That’s ideal for any designer or artist. There are a few more sports projects coming up, and I just hope I can keep doing my own thing within them.

I also like when a client asks specific details, especially if it’s a sport I don’t know very well. It’s nice to be given those small nuances. For example, when I made the Rodman piece, he holds the ball the way he did in real life – he’d jump and pull it into his chest. If you’ve never seen Rodman play and you give that brief to a designer, they might not draw him like that. Those details are important. If it’s football, I usually already know the clubs and the players. If it’s another sport, I’ll do some research. But it’s even better when you can collaborate and they give you those details – that’s what makes the work special.

Sometimes in my work, I deliberately put ‘wrong’ details in because I like how they look. Maybe I give someone two left feet. People will comment on it, but if it doesn’t disturb me visually, I leave it. I like when something is off in the image. It creates tension. I see a lot of visuals from other designers passing by. If I like something, I like it – sometimes I comment. But I’m not obsessed with dissecting everything or comparing myself. I just enjoy seeing good work, the same way I enjoy watching a good match.”

When we look at your work, we see this mix of mediums – collage, illustration, 3D elements. When you start a new project, what usually comes first? How does your process actually unfold?

“The first thing I do is very simple: I go to YouTube and get inspired. It can be a movie character, a sports character – I just start absorbing. I want to gather information before I begin, especially with details like kits and outfits. If I’m making Zidane heading the ball in 2006, it has to be the right kit. Then I’ll check which Predator boots he was wearing. Once I have all that information, I start with one sketch with my mouse. I don’t know why, but that’s my philosophy. If I use paper, I start really drawing, and that’s not what I want at that stage. I just want rough shapes, a loose sketch, not a finished drawing.

After that, I start creating my textures, and then I put everything together. It’s really like building a puzzle. Lately I’ve also started using AI to generate certain details, mainly because you have to be very careful with the photographs you use. AI helps me create specific textures or elements I need without having to buy stock images for every little thing.”

AI and generative tools are a big conversation in design right now. As someone who’s been working in this industry for over 20 years, how do you see these new tools?

“It depends a lot on your style. My style is actually quite hard for AI to handle because of the proportions. I play with very geometric shapes and strange anatomies, and AI struggles with that. I’ve seen other designers having a hard time with it because, for them, it’s easy to be copied by AI. In that sense, I really hate it – it can feel threatening. But for me personally, it’s also joyful, because I can now generate textures and describe exactly how I want them.

If I need an army-patterned pair of trousers, I don’t have to pay 50 euros for a photo anymore. I can generate something myself that fits the piece. I think AI is nice as a tool, but I really don’t like it when it becomes the final product. I even teach AI to my students, and I let them use it. If you go home tonight, sit at the table with your phone, hand it to your mom or dad and ask, ‘Can you generate a cool picture of a frog doing this and this?’ – they can do it. Everyone can be an “artist” with AI. So you have to find your own way to use it, to embrace it without losing yourself.

One thing that’s really important, now more than ever, is creating your own style – something recognisable, a signature that feels like your work. That visual “firm”, that personal sign, is what will separate you from whatever a machine can spit out.”

When you design something knowing it’s going to live inside an endless scroll of content on Instagram, how do you try to elevate that work with your own style and still catch attention?

“I just do what I want. In the beginning, I was on Instagram and I made things for people to see, sure, but mainly I made them for myself. My Instagram has always been my playground. Now I get jobs to create characters that look like the ones on my Instagram, but before that it was just about making stuff I enjoyed.

All those characters I’m making now are actually studies for painting. The plan is to start painting them – hopefully from this year onwards. That’s something I really want to do: take them off the screen and put them on walls and canvases.In a visually crowded world, I think for art and artists it’s important to create something real – something that becomes an artwork in physical space, that has the potential to live longer than a post. Something tangible.”

Are there any personal projects related to sport that you haven’t had the chance to realise yet, but are working on?

“A deeply meaningful project is in the works. An old friend of mine, Dennis—an ICU nursing professor—was out cycling when he had a devastating accident. He took a heavy fall, suffering multiple fractures and a severe traumatic brain injury. He underwent several surgeries, but he survived. His neurosurgeon later told him bluntly that without his helmet, he wouldn’t be here today.

​Dennis used to be a relentless mountain biker and cyclist. ​Today, he uses his experience to work with the Hersenletselliga (Brain Injury League), an organization in Belgium dedicated to supporting and bringing attention to patients living with brain injuries. On April 22nd, they are organizing the 3rd ‘Bicycle Helmet Day’ in Flanders. The theme is ‘The Utility of the Helmet’—because, honestly, wearing one should be a total no-brainer. The goal is to get the message back into the news and remind people, especially parents and children, how vital that protection is. People often forget just how crucial it can be.

​To support them, I am creating the ‘Helm Heroes’ campaign—a series of five or six posters featuring Belgian cycling legends like Eddy Merckx and other icons. As a nation, cycling is in our DNA, so using these heroes to deliver the message feels only right. At the end of May, there will be an auction (via Hersenletselliga.be ) where people can bid on these prints, with all proceeds going directly to the organization. ​That is the beautiful power of art: it can heal, it can raise awareness, and it can truly give something back.”