Shoreditch’s street art scene has never shied away from bold, subversive statements—but this July, it gets a living legend. Lady Pink, one of the first women to rise through the ranks of New York’s graffiti underground, lands in East London with her first UK solo exhibition, Miss Subway NYC. The show brings with it a full-blown recreation of a 1980s NYC subway station, complete with archival works, fresh commissions, and a dose of unfiltered rebellion. We caught up with Lady Pink to talk graffiti legacies, industry bias, and the beauty of impermanence.
You were painting entire subway cars at 15 and exhibiting at MoMA PS1 by 17. What kept you fearless in a male-dominated scene?
I wasn’t painting whole subway cars at 15. I started writing at 15, but it takes a while to graduate to painting trains. I didn’t paint my first full car until I was 16. By 17, I was invited to exhibit at PS1. All the other guys were showing work, and I think I was just their token female at the time—there were no other girls.
Miss Subway NYC feels like a reclamation of space and story. How did this iconic beauty pageant inspire your latest self-portrait?
I’d come across the story years ago—about the Miss Subways pageant—but it wasn’t a deep inspiration. I needed a title for the show, and it just kind of fit. There’s no great symbolic meaning behind it. I’d heard of the pageant, sure, but it’s not like it influenced the work in any major way.
Your show recreates a full NYC subway station—in Shoreditch, no less. Why bring the grit of 1980s New York to East London now?
When they [Eddy and Michael] came to me with the concept of building a subway station for the show, I thought—why not?
I had two big pieces that had just come back from Shanghai, where they were part of the Beyond the Streets show during COVID. These works are detailed scenes—subway cars reimagined as homes, kind of in an Asian village style. They took months to paint. When I got them back, I thought they’d be perfect for this concept.
So I said, let’s build a station. I can do faux tiles, painted mosaics, and bring in some of those skills. I created new paintings to go with the installation. It all came together really naturally.
You’ve worked alongside legends like Basquiat and Haring. What did that era teach you about legacy, especially as a woman in graffiti?
People always romanticise that time now, but back then, we were just kids hanging out. We weren’t having deep conversations or mentoring each other. Gay men like Haring didn’t really talk to teenage straight girls—they didn’t know what to say to me.
I didn’t learn much from them. I learned from my homeboys, my real teachers and masters. They taught me how to stretch a canvas, how to speak to a gallery owner, how to act like a professional artist. That was the real schooling. Basquiat and Haring? They weren’t seen as legends back then. That came later.
You’ve always spoken out against censorship and gender bias in art. Do you feel the industry has shifted—or just changed its language?
I live in a bubble, out in the country, and I don’t pay attention to the industry. I’m struggling on my own. I haven’t been offered a solo show in New York in over a decade. Someone even messaged me on Instagram saying I’m too stuck up to have one—but the truth is, I just haven’t been invited.
It’s still 80% white male in the fine art world. Being a woman of colour, even with my long career and body of work, I’m still not taken seriously by the gatekeepers. So no, I don’t think much has changed. I imagine other women are struggling too. I can’t speak for all of them—but from where I stand, it’s still an uphill battle.
You left your footprints on a Basquiat. Literal ones. How do you feel about art’s obsession with ‘untouchable’ masterpieces in contrast with graffiti’s impermanence?
Graffiti is ephemeral—we know that. You put it on a train, it’s gone in days. When we were teenagers, we didn’t even have cameras. Sometimes you had to get someone’s phone number just to track down a photo of your work.
But fine art? That’s different. We use archival materials. We want our paintings to last, to be placed in good homes or museums. That’s how we become immortal. We’re careful with our work because we want it to survive. So yes, we care deeply about permanence—when it’s our studio work.
You can’t expect street work to survive. You don’t own the wall. The owner can knock the building down or paint over it. Unless you copyright it, you have no say. That’s just the reality. Graffiti was never meant to last—but fine art is. That’s the contrast, and we understand both sides.
This is your first UK solo exhibition—long overdue. What do you hope London audiences take away from Miss Subway NYC?
I don’t do this with any kind of expectation. I’ve lost all hope, to be honest. I don’t care what people take away from it. I’ve been at this for 40 years. People will think what they want—I can’t control that. So, no expectations.
The new Miss Subways pageant embraces protest, performance, and DIY spirit. Do you see graffiti culture today keeping that rebellious fire alive?
I don’t really follow what’s happening in graffiti these days. That’s my husband’s job—he’s a historian and archivist. He keeps me informed when I need to be. But I focus on fine art now, galleries, not vandalism.
But yes, the spirit is out there. It’s alive and well, on trains in Rome and Berlin, on freight trains across America. There are artists who will never sell, never exhibit—just do it for the streets. That fire hasn’t gone out. There’s street art, sure, and a lot of things mixed in, but graffiti, the pure form, is still alive in the wild.
xxx
Lady Pink: Miss Subway NYC
A Groundbreaking Solo Exhibition
Opening Night:
Friday, 18th July 2025 – 7 PM
D’Stassi Art, 12–18 Hoxton Street (Entrance on Drysdale Street), Shoreditch, London, N1 6NG