
I’ve been a creative all my life, but things truly began around 2010 when I was living in Seoul. I started selling prints and t-shirts with my skull art on the streets of Hongdae, surrounded by musicians, graffiti artists, and the Korean underground scene. That period taught me resilience — creating art to survive turned creativity into my daily language.
I almost always wear black with a touch of red — it keeps me grounded and allows me to disappear visually so the art can stand out. In my artwork, though, I go to the opposite extreme: neon, ultraviolet tones, and bright contrasts. I like that tension — I wear the void, but I paint the explosion.
It hit me while I was living in South Korea. I realized I couldn’t imagine a life without creating, even if it meant drawing in a tiny apartment at 3 a.m. The first real step was naming myself TOKEBI, inspired by the Korean dokkaebi — mythological goblins known for their energy and unpredictability. That name marked the moment I stopped making art and started becoming it. Afterwards I was the founder of the Nothing Serious collective exhibition in Korea.
I’m drawn to low-brow and dark surrealist art — styles that feel raw, human, and imperfect. I admire artists who blend beauty with discomfort, who leave their lines unpolished so you can still feel the emotion behind them. I also love retro-sci-fi aesthetics and psychedelic poster art from the ‘70s — the kind that vibrates visually.
I’m inspired by mythologies, music, and the dualities of human nature. Ancient Mayan symbolism, Korean folklore, and heavy metal culture all coexist inside me. My love for this craft comes from the need to translate what I feel — chaos, energy, wonder, curiosity, anxiety — into visual form. Art is my way of organizing the noise of existence.
I’m Guatemalan, and yes, my heritage runs deep in my work. I grew up surrounded by stories of life and death, color and symbolism — all of which mirror the Mayan worldview. My skulls echo that connection between the physical and the spiritual. Even when I mix it with neon futurism, there’s always a trace of ancestral mysticism underneath.

If I could collaborate with anyone, it would probably be Dr. Alderete from Argentina or Aziritt based in United States. I really admire how they blend cultural symbolism with bold, powerful visual language — it’s raw, expressive, and full of energy, just like the direction I’m always pushing toward. In music, I’d love to collaborate with Soulfly. Their fusion of metal, tribal rhythms, and spirituality connects deeply with what I explore visually — that intensity between life, chaos, and transcendence. I’ve already had the chance to work with Mastodon, which was incredible, so Soulfly would be the next natural evolution for me.
My dream clients now are the collectors who truly believe in my work — in what I stand for and in the art I create. They’re the ones who want to support the vision, to become patrons who allow me to keep creating and visually representing their ideas and values.
I discovered NFTs around 2021. What attracted me wasn’t the hype, but the freedom — finally, artists could track their sales, own their work, and connect directly with collectors. At first, I partnered with a now-defunct platform to mint my first collection, The Skulloids, on Polygon. In 2022, I created my second collection, Baby Skulls, backed by a Guatemalan entrepreneur — the first NFT collection of its kind in Guatemala. Both projects eventually faded after the NFT market crash in 2022, but they taught me invaluable lessons about independence, community, and resilience in the digital art world.
I studied in a Catholic school, where the fear of God and death was always present. At the same time, I discovered rock music — and that clash pushed me to start drawing skulls in defiance, creatures from hell with wings and fangs. Over time, those rebellious skulls evolved into something deeper — an alien skeleton race, the Skulloids, beings from another galaxy who use black magic and scavenged artifacts to build their machines and sustain life. Skulls have always fascinated me because they’re universal; they strip away everything superficial and remind us that beneath it all, we’re the same. Over time, they became my language — the essence of Tokebi. Now I’m a representative of the “Memento Mori” artistic movement.
One milestone I’m proud of was when Mastodon chose me to design their European Tour merchandise in 2019. It felt surreal — my work, born on the streets of Seoul, being worn across continents. Another highlight was being added to Guatemala’s Registro Nacional de Artistas in 2022, a moment of recognition from my own country.
My favourite sold piece is one that went to a collector who really understood it — someone who didn’t just buy it, but felt it. That kind of connection is rare. My favourite unsold piece is always the one I’m currently working on, because it represents my evolution. Each skull carries a fragment of who I am at that moment.

It matters because it’s my way of leaving something honest behind. Art allows me to transform what’s inside — chaos, questions, fears — into something beautiful and lasting. It’s not just self-expression; it’s communication with whoever sees themselves in my work.
Everywhere. I want Tokebi to be multidimensional — from museum walls to music festivals, streetwear, and digital worlds. I see it as a living universe people can step into, wear, or even collect in virtual form.
I disconnect by moving — walking, working out, or just being with my dog. I need quiet moments between creative storms. Those pauses are where the next wave of ideas usually appears.
I admire XCOPY, DeeKay, Zen0, and Alpha Centauri Kid — all pioneers who built culture in this space through authenticity, not trends. They’ve proven that Web3 isn’t just technology; it’s a movement of creative independence.
A “Patreon” or similar page, in which people can give you a monthly allowance in exchange of exclusive perks for example, a monthly t-shirt subscription, or a month nft drop to sell.
I’ve exhibited internationally, sold NFTs across continents, designed official merchandise for Grammy-winning bands, and created hundreds of original skulls that define the Tokebi style. I’ve also taught design, multimedia and marketing for years, helping new generations of creators build their voice. Every piece of my journey — from Seoul to Guatemala — shaped what Tokebi stands for today.

I want to keep expanding the Tokebi Universe — to merge art, music, animation, and digital experiences into a single mythology. My goal is to make Tokebi a global symbol of transformation — where cultural heritage, technology, and creativity collide.
The Tokebi Way is transformation. It’s taking darkness and turning it into light — fear into strength, chaos into beauty. The spirit of Tokebi comes from the Korean dokkaebi: mischievous, powerful, creative energy that rewards courage and curiosity. It’s a mix of rebellion, myth, and evolution — art that refuses to die, because it keeps reinventing itself.
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And once again, thank you to TOKEBI for being part of this project.