Today we’d like to introduce you to Keith Sturgeon.
Hi Keith, we’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
My introduction to pinstriping began about ten years ago in a garage, while a friend and I were customizing a motorcycle. Surrounded by tools, paint, and spare parts, I noticed his pinstriping brushes and asked about the technique. We started laying lines on leftover motorcycle parts, and in that moment, something clicked. I was hooked.
Over the years, pinstriping became an obsession—an ongoing pursuit of balance, movement, and precision. I painted motorcycles, cars, trucks—anything that carried motion and attitude. About seven years ago, that curiosity shifted toward the human form. I began translating pinstripes onto people, creating face prints built from line and flow rather than traditional portraiture. Today, I continue to work in both worlds, applying the same pinstriped language to machines and to people, always chasing the next line.
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
It hasn’t been a smooth road—more like a winding one, full of hesitation, faith, and moments where I had to step forward before I felt ready. One of the biggest challenges was simply figuring out how to get my work out into the world and find the people who might connect with it. For a long time, my art lived quietly with me.
I began by painting pinstriped panels, imagining they might belong in the world of car and motorcycle shows. At that point, the only vehicle I had ever pinstriped was my own. When I finally brought those panels to a show, I was met with a question that would change everything. A gentleman asked if I had ever laid lines on a car. Moments later, I was standing in front of his 1959 Ford Ranchero, brush in hand, asked to paint classic pinstripes across its fenders and hood.
As I worked, a crowd gathered. My hands were steady, but inside I was a mix of disbelief and nerves—I couldn’t quite process that this was happening in real time. When I finished, I looked up to find a line of people waiting, each one trusting me with something they loved. That was the moment I realized the road was opening, even if I didn’t yet feel confident enough to walk it.
Being part of the motorcycle and classic car family has been a powerful force in my journey. That community has introduced me to people who believed in me, shared my work, and helped my name travel farther than I ever could have on my own. Still, confidence has been my greatest struggle. Painting on someone’s cherished possession—or capturing the likeness of a beloved family member, a pet, or a respected musician—carries a weight that never goes unnoticed. I’ve also had to learn how to stand beside incredibly talented pinstripe artists without letting doubt silence me.
The road hasn’t been smooth, but it’s been meaningful. Every challenge has shaped my hands, my heart, and my respect for the trust people place in my work.
Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
My work lives in motion and in memory. I’m a pinstripe artist who lays lines on anything that moves—or carries a story. Motorcycles, cars, boats, business signs, even a billboard have all become my canvas. Alongside that, I create portrait paintings of family members, pets, and musicians, capturing not just likeness but presence.
What I’m most known for are my face prints—a technique I developed entirely on my own in the studio. When I began, I didn’t even know what I was doing. I just kept playing, experimenting, letting the lines lead me. Over time, those lines started speaking to one another. Every painting still teaches me something new, and with each one, the technique becomes more refined. The same is true when I’m pinstriping a motorcycle or a car—there’s always something to learn, always room to grow.
What truly sets me apart is the moment of realization people have when they step closer to my work. From a distance, they see a face or a finished machine. Up close, they discover that everything is built from lines. Watching that reaction—the pause, the surprise, the smile—is something I’ll never get tired of. It’s a kind of quiet magic, and I’m proud to be part of it.
What I’m most proud of, though, is where this journey began. I started in a friend’s garage, just playing around, following curiosity and instinct. I never gave up. Over time, that persistence turned into a name within the community and a life built around something I truly love. My portraits have hung in my own space at the Biker Brewhouse for nearly six years now, giving people a place to encounter my work, while car and motorcycle shows throughout the season keep me connected to the road and the people on it.
At the heart of it all is passion, lines, and the belief that if you stay with what moves you, it will eventually move others too.
Any big plans?
The future, for me, is about pushing beyond the surface. I’m always striving to be better, to learn more, and to challenge what a painting can be. Lately, that journey has led me into the world of 3D and mixed-media, where the line between art and object begins to blur.
One of the first moments I realized this shift was possible came while creating a portrait of Kiki Wong. I built an entire guitar by hand to exist within the piece, then sculpted her tongue and hand from clay, pinstriping her hand directly on top of it. It felt less like painting and more like constructing a world—layer by layer, material by material.
Over the last two years, with the encouragement of my wife, I’ve begun pushing even further. Chains and strands of hair now rise off the canvas, reaching toward the viewer. These elements take time and deep consideration, because they have to feel seamless—like they bleed naturally into the painting itself. Most people don’t realize they’re three-dimensional until they’re standing right in front of the work, and that quiet discovery is exactly what I’m after.
Looking ahead, I plan to continue expanding this language of depth and line, even though these pieces are notoriously difficult to photograph. They’re meant to be experienced in person, to pull you closer, to reward patience and curiosity. My goal isn’t simply to make bigger changes, but more honest ones—to keep evolving, to keep surprising myself, and to keep creating work that asks the viewer to step in rather than just look on.
Pricing:
- All work is priced on an individual, per-project basis
- No two projects are the same; each piece is custom and priced accordingly
- Final pricing is discussed directly with each client to ensure clarity and alignment with their vision
Contact Info:
- Website: https://skeetersgrafix.com
- Instagram: skeetersgrafix
- Facebook: https://Facebook.com/Keith.sturgeon.3
- Other: https://share.google/EcpYiSlewcWcQovmW
