In the world of contemporary street art, where scale and spectacle often dominate, Ungaco-founder of the Israeli art collective Broken Fingaz begins his creative process in a far more intimate arena: the humble sketchbook. Far from being a final destination for polished ideas, Unga’s sketchbooks serve as a sanctuary for experimentation, risk, and raw expression. They are tools for freedom, not perfection scrappy, spontaneous vessels that document the unfiltered immediacy of creative thought.
For Unga, a sketchbook is not about presentation; it’s about movement. Chosen for their small size, portability, and worn quality, his sketchbooks accompany him like trusted companions, slipping easily into bags, pockets, and glove compartments. They move through life with him through cities, through moments collecting fragments of experience as they unfold. Their slightly tinted paper softens the visual field, making the artist’s hand feel more at ease, more willing to play. Unlike the stark intimidation of pristine white pages, these pages already seem to carry a history, inviting new marks without hesitation.
This attitude reflects a subtle rebellion against creative paralysis. When paper feels precious, artists freeze. When paper feels disposable, they dare. Unga leans into this dynamic by seeking out old, forgotten sketchbooks or salvaged paper from antique books. These neglected materials already possess a voice of their own. Their fibers are aged, their surfaces textured by time. Drawing on them is like adding one more sentence to a story that has been quietly unfolding for decades.
Every page becomes a layered conversation between the past and the present. A scribbled face might coexist with a faded map. A splash of ink might dance with the remnants of a century-old margin note. Unga doesn’t just sketch on these pages he collaborates with them. This tactile intimacy gives his work a grounding in history while keeping it firmly rooted in the now.
Tools of Spontaneity: How Material Constraints Shape Creative Flow
What may seem like small choicespen type, brush selection, or paper tone are actually the engines of Unga’s unique rhythm. These tools do more than transfer ink to the page; they dictate tempo, control spontaneity, and establish mood. One major turning point in his process came when he shifted from using Rotring Tikky Graphic Pens to more fluid, accessible options like the Pilot V7 and V5. This decision wasn’t a calculated artistic change but arose from the realities of life, particularly the responsibilities of fatherhood. Convenience became a necessity. Yet in that constraint, Unga discovered a new way of working.
The fine metal nibs of the Pilot pens allowed for a quicker, looser hand, adding a sense of momentum to each mark. The lines now danced, rather than marched. This transition exemplifies how material limitations can often unlock new layers of expression, forcing the artist to adapt and evolve in unexpected ways.
The same ethos applies to his choice of brushes. Unga gravitates toward the imperfect frayed bristles, weathered handles, tools long past their prime. These instruments, which many artists would discard, are for him conduits of texture and imperfection. When dipped into Indian ink, they produce lines that bleed, stutter, and surprise. The resulting visuals are not clinical renderings but emotional resonances, as if the page itself were echoing the spontaneity of thought.
Color, too, is a field for dynamic play. Wax pastels, often overlooked in professional art circles for their unruly nature, are among Unga’s favorite mediums. They offer a frenetic energy that aligns with his intuitive approach. When layered over ink, the pastels don’t behave they burst. They refuse to blend smoothly, instead clashing and colliding in ways that generate accidental brilliance. These unpredictable collisions are essential to his process. Rather than planning a palette in advance, he lets colors find each other in real time, like jazz musicians jamming in a smoky room.
This isn’t to say that his practice is chaotic. Within this landscape of free association lies a subtle but firm discipline. Each sketchbook page is a stage for improvisation, yes, but also for mindful exploration. There are patterns in the randomness, rhythms in the scribbles. One idea leads to another like dominoes falling in a spiral. Even the most fleeting doodle may return later, fully matured, taking shape in a mural or installation years down the line. It’s a process of continuous dialogue between the conscious and the subconscious, between intention and accident.
From Scribble to Spectacle: Scaling Ideas from Page to Wall
What begins as a modest line on paper can, in time, evolve into a commanding artwork that spans walls, canvases, or even architectural structures. The sketchbook, for Unga, is not a separate or lesser part of his practice’s the nucleus. Every towering mural or complex installation he creates starts as a scribble, a spark, a gesture no bigger than a few inches wide. This miniature scale allows him to test compositions in their purest form. The small size forces clarity. Unnecessary elements fall away. Only the essence remains.
One favored method involves dividing a page into ten or more tiny frames/thumbnail sketches that act as visual laboratories. Within these confines, Unga rapidly iterates ideas for layout, form, and color. The quick, physical nature of this process means decisions happen at the speed of thought. No digital undo button. No perfect symmetry. Just the raw back-and-forth between hand and paper.
Though digital tools are acknowledged, they are not central to this part of the process. Unga prefers the tactile nature of physical media, which keeps him engaged with the full sensory dimension of art-making. There is a visceral feedback loop in the drag of a pen, the smear of a thumb, the weight of a brushstroke. These gestures create a rhythm and depth that screens struggle to replicate.
Once an idea finds its footing in the sketchbook, it is ready to scale. But moving from a thumbnail to a canvas or mural involves more than just enlargement. It requires transformation. A brushstroke that once covered a centimeter must now traverse several feet. The breathing room around the negative space changes dramatically, altering how color, contrast, and movement are perceived.
Unga approaches this scaling process like a conversation. The artwork may begin with a strong idea, but it’s allowed to evolve during execution. As the image grows, it resists, demands adjustments, and introduces surprises. The final piece might retain the essence of the original sketch, but it is no longer a replica’s a relative. A cousin, not a clone.
Each layer of paint adds history. Each deviation from the plan opens new doors. Even as the artwork takes on monumental scale, it remains rooted in the immediacy and honesty of its origins. This open-ended process ensures that the final work is not a product of rigid control, but of continuous discovery.
Through this fluid interplay between raw beginnings and refined outcomes, Unga crafts a uniquely compelling body of work. His sketchbooks are more than tools; they are living records of thought in motion. They capture not just what he sees, but how he feels how memory, moment, and material come together in the act of creation.
In a world increasingly driven by digital polish and curated aesthetics, Unga’s approach stands as a powerful reminder of the value of the unpolished, the impulsive, the flawed. His process celebrates the imperfect beginnings that lead to profound ends. And in doing so, it invites all artists regardless of medium to embrace the messiness of creativity, to trust their instincts, and to find beauty not in perfection, but in process.
Embracing the Unknown: Unga's Dialogue with Instinct
In Unga's creative universe, artistic clarity doesn't stem from meticulous planning but from a conscious surrender to spontaneity. The act of drawing is not a calculated performance but a fluid exchange between the hand and an inner voice. His art begins in the humble space of a sketchbook, but these pages are far more than drafts; they are portals into a mind deeply attuned to the nuances of intuition. Every stroke, every mark made without hesitation, contributes to a larger conversation unfolding in real time.
Unga's approach defies the traditional notion of artistic control. He deliberately avoids the weight of overthinking, opting instead for a process rooted in exploration. New subjects or mediums don’t arrive with defined intentions; they enter his world like strangers with intriguing possibilities. In these initial phases, judgment takes a backseat. He allows his curiosity to run free, filling page after page with raw, unfiltered attempts. There is no effort to curate, no fear of failure, only the action of creating for creation's sake.
This prolific output sets the stage for reflection. Over time, these impulsive gestures gain shape, and deeper meanings begin to emerge. Unga often describes himself as an archaeologist of his own work. Drawings once discarded or ignored become fertile ground for rediscovery. By returning to these pieces with fresh eyes, he uncovers rhythms, forms, and motifs that reveal themselves only through distance. For him, time serves not as a hindrance, but as a critical collaborator. It sharpens perception and peels back layers that were previously invisible.
Through this process, Unga redefines the role of the artist. He is not merely a maker of images but a listener, an interpreter, and a participant in an ever-evolving dialogue with instinct. This trust in the unknown turns creation into a meditative act continuous loop of doing, pausing, and rediscovering. In resisting the need to explain or justify each move, he cultivates a rare kind of clarity, one that can only emerge from surrender.
The Inescapable Self: Style as a Mirror, Not a Mask
For Unga, style is not a destination or a deliberate choice is an inevitable consequence of honesty. He does not seek a signature look, nor does he strive to repeat past successes. Yet, despite efforts to reinvent or escape familiar territory, a consistent thread always weaves its way through his work. It is an unspoken fingerprint embedded in the angle of a line, the harmony of colors, or the subtle absurdity layered into a composition.
Even when veering off into new territories, this core identity resurfaces. The self, it seems, is always present, even in disguise. This realization brings Unga a deep sense of peace. He no longer feels the pressure to maintain a brand or craft an image for public consumption. His authenticity, shaped by years of relentless exploration and intuitive choices, speaks louder than any conscious effort to conform.
Unga's work often floats between two visual the tangible and the abstract. A vase of flowers may dissolve into a flurry of chaotic shapes. A portrait might warp into a joyful distortion. He thrives on this boundary, where meaning and ambiguity coexist. It is a space that invites the viewer to interpret freely, to experience rather than decipher. The lack of resolution is intentional; it challenges the audience to sit with discomfort and delight in equal measure.
By walking this tightrope, Unga asserts that style is not a formula but a mirror. It reflects where the artist is emotionally, mentally, and spiritually at any given moment. Each piece becomes a timestamp of internal evolution, not a product tailored for approval. In letting go of the desire to arrive stylistically, he gains the freedom to keep moving, keep questioning, and keep rediscovering what makes his work truly his.
This openness allows him to cultivate a dynamic, living practice. Instead of chasing trends or adhering to external expectations, he uses his intuition as a compass. It guides him toward uncharted territories while keeping him anchored in authenticity. His style, then, is less about repetition and more about the resonance and reflection of internal truths rendered visible.
Over time, Unga has come to see his artistic journey not as a search for identity but as an unfolding of one. Identity, after all, is not static morphs, bends, and stretches with time and experience. The canvas becomes a diary, a living archive of presence rather than performance. This process-oriented approach turns the act of making into an existential inquiry. What does it mean to be oneself when the self is ever-changing? How does one honor the fluidity of being without diluting the integrity of expression?
Unga finds that the answer lies not in control but in surrender. He allows his hand to move with instinct, trusts the missteps as much as the triumphs. In the layering of paint, the spontaneous gesture, the accidental smudge, there is a quiet truth being whispered. It is not about perfection, but presence. Each mark is a manifestation of a moment felt fully, a breath translated into form.
He embraces contradictions, letting elegance rub shoulders with chaos. His compositions often carry a sense of unresolved tension not because he lacks clarity, but because he understands that resolution is not always the point. Life itself is full of dissonance, moments that resist closure. Unga welcomes this discomfort as fertile ground for insight. He invites viewers to lean into it, to find beauty not despite ambiguity, but because of it.
This mindset reshapes how he views legacy. Instead of seeking to leave behind a recognizable body of work, he hopes to leave behind a trail of sincerity. One that does not cater to what is fashionable but resonates with what is real. The goal is not to be remembered for a specific aesthetic, but for a way of being present in the act of creation.
In this way, Unga dissolves the boundary between the artist and the art. There is no mask to hide behind, no stylized persona orchestrating the experience. There is only the selfraw, restless, and reflected back through form, color, and space. His style becomes an evolving mirror, capturing not just how he sees the world, but how he navigates his place within it.
Ultimately, Unga’s work is not about arriving at a singular truth, but about honoring the multiplicity within. His is a journey of perpetual becoming, of allowing art to reveal, rather than dictate, who he is. And in doing so, he reminds us that the most profound expressions often emerge not from what we try to show, but from what we cannot help but reveal.
Childlike Vision: Relearning Wonder Through Shared Creation
When artistic energy begins to wane or the spark of inspiration dims, Unga finds himself turning to an unlikely collaborator daughter. Through her eyes, he rediscovers the joy of seeing the world without filters, rules, or expectations. Children possess a raw, imaginative lens that transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary. A shoe becomes a mountain. A squiggle suggests an animal never seen before. For Unga, these playful distortions reignite his own capacity for wonder.
His daughter’s drawings offer a refreshing rupture in his visual routine. Her uninhibited creativity reminds him of the beauty of mistakes and the power of the unexpected. When he takes her imaginative sketches and reinterprets them through his own artistic voice, it becomes more than an exercise in translation, it becomes an act of shared expression. He jokes about stealing her ideas under the guise of paternal rights, but there is a profound truth beneath the humor: inspiration is not owned, it is shared.
This intergenerational exchange transforms their bond into a creative dialogue. Rather than viewing her work as childish, Unga sees it as visionary. Her perspective disrupts his assumptions and challenges him to reconsider what he thought he knew. The process of remixing her ideas into his own practice isn't imitation; it's celebration. It validates the belief that art is not a solitary pursuit but a collective journey.
In embracing his daughter’s influence, Unga taps into the purity of unfiltered creation. Her spontaneity reminds him of his own beginnings, early years before critique, expectation, and marketability entered the frame. Through her, he reconnects with that primal impulse to create without an agenda. It is a return to the source, where instinct reigns supreme and joy is found in the act itself.
The results are works steeped in emotional texture. They contain traces of play, fragments of memory, and layers of unplanned resonance. He often speaks of emotional synesthesia, blending of mood and mark-making, where feelings take shape on the page without needing words. Each drawing becomes a vessel for sensation, unpolished but deeply affecting.
In a world increasingly drawn to sleek, curated perfection, Unga offers a radical alternative. He invites imperfection, celebrates vulnerability, and makes room for surprise. His work is not about dominance or display, but about discovery. To draw, for him, is to let go of control and trust the unfolding. It is to listen, to play, and to believe that the best ideas often arrive when we stop trying to summon them.
From Sketchbook Sparks to Monumental Impact
What begins as a faint whisper on the fragile page of a sketchbook can eventually roar across the surface of a towering wall. For Unga, the act of sketching is not simply a preliminary step; it’s a spiritual and strategic genesis. It’s where the emotional charge is first transferred to paper where instinct, curiosity, and creativity meet in their rawest form. These modest drawings often contain seeds of energy and intention so potent they’re destined to grow far beyond the confines of their initial five-inch frames.
The miniature scale of a sketch belies its immense potential. What may seem spontaneous or informal on paper is actually rich with subconscious direction. Unga’s sketchbooks brim with ideas not meant to be trapped in their original form but rather transformed, magnified, and unleashed. In his creative universe, a good sketch is not merely a small artwork; it’s a launching pad for something much larger in both form and meaning.
The challenge lies not in copying these sketches onto a grand scale but in nurturing their evolution. Unga understands that the shift in size, surface, and medium demands more than a mechanical transfer. It requires sensitivity to the essence of the piece's soul. The act of scaling up involves interpretation, not replication. A confident stroke in ink may need reconsideration when it spans several feet. Every material, from pastel to oil to aerosol, interacts with space and light in its own way. Each has a different texture, rhythm, and mood, and those subtleties demand that the artist adapt thoughtfully.
When a sketch makes its way onto a monumental surface, it carries a history with it. But it also gains a new identity. The intimacy of its origin meets the boldness of public space. What once lived privately in a personal notebook now breathes in full view, absorbing the energy of its surroundings. Unga thrives in this transformation, keeping the raw spontaneity of the sketch alive while navigating the demands of large-scale execution.
The Conversation Between Artist and Canvas
Translating a sketch into a large-scale mural or canvas is not a linear process. It is, instead, an ever-evolving conversation. The materials speak back. The environment responds. The composition shifts with each decision made. Unga listens attentively, never imposing too rigid a structure. For him, control must coexist with chaos. He prefers improvisation over exactitude, allowing each brushstroke or spray to become a reaction rather than a repetition.
The process is fluid. A vibrant form may assert itself unexpectedly. A misstep in scale may reveal a more compelling direction. Unga’s instinct as an artist is to remain open to the work’s requests. He treats the piece not as a passive object to be completed, but as a living entity that asks, argues, and reveals. He does not merely apply paint to the surface; he engages in a dynamic relationship with the unfolding image.
In this space of mutual responsiveness, something profound occurs. The painting begins to breathe with its own rhythm. Some works arrive in a storm of immediacy completed within hours of frenzied motion. Others linger, refusing to reveal themselves too quickly, requiring weeks of patient discovery. Unga allows the artwork to dictate its own timeline. He does not force outcomes but instead reads the cues when to press forward, when to step back, when to preserve, and when to start over.
Patience and aggression dance together in this rhythm. There are moments where destruction becomes necessary to move forward where obliterating a beloved section opens space for something more truthful. These aren’t accidents. They’re a testament to Unga’s trust in the process. It’s less about perfection and more about authenticity. The goal is not a polished image but a work that feels alive, surprising, and sincere.
This approach at once intuitive and deliberate extends beyond the solitary studio into the collaborative spaces of Unga’s larger practice. As a founding member of the Broken Fingaz collective, he is no stranger to the tension between personal vision and shared creation. When the team brings a sketch to life on a wall, it is no longer just one person’s voice speaking. It becomes a chorus.
Collective Energy and Amplified Intention
The murals created by Broken Fingaz are rooted deeply in this philosophy of organic evolution. Each wall begins with a single spark often born in Unga’s sketchbook, the final result is far more than a scaled-up version of a small drawing. What makes their public artworks resonate is not just their size or color but the fidelity to the energy of the original concept. The group does not enlarge details for details sake. Instead, they magnify the core emotion, the narrative pulse, the driving instinct behind the sketch.
This is a subtle but powerful distinction. The goal isn’t to preserve every element but to expand upon the idea in a way that remains emotionally truthful. The purity of the sketch is honored, not by exact imitation, but by reinterpreting it through collective action. Each member of the crew brings a unique touch, building upon the foundation in layers. They collaborate in real time, responding to each other’s strokes, suggestions, and hesitations. The mural becomes a living dialogue among artists, each responding to the evolving energy of the work.
Public spaces add another layer of interaction. These murals are not museum-bound or hidden behind glass; they are exposed to the world. The concrete, the weather, the movement of people around them all become part of the final piece. This openness enhances the rawness of the original sketch, grounding it in a specific place and time. The wall becomes not only a canvas but a stage where the energy of the initial idea meets the rhythm of real life.
Unga’s ability to hold onto the emotional kernel of a sketch while allowing it to expand through other hands, spaces, and mediums is rare. It’s what gives Broken Fingaz murals their unmistakable intensity. Whether in Tel Aviv, London, or Mexico City, the walls they touch carry a distinct urgency, a sense of art that is both deeply personal and powerfully public.
There’s something almost musical about the process. Much like a composer might write a melody that a full orchestra then interprets, Unga’s sketches provide a thematic starting point. The collective becomes the performers, translating that melody into layered harmony. Each mural is not only a visual experience but also a spatial symphony fluid, rhythmic, improvisational.
This elasticity between sketch and wall, between solitude and collaboration, between planning and spontaneity is the secret to the vitality of Unga’s work. It’s why his pieces feel so alive, even after days or years in public view. They contain echoes of the moment they were conceived and the many transformations they underwent before becoming complete.
Rethinking the Myth: How Broken Fingaz Cultivates Collective Creativity
In a world that often exalts the solitary genius, Broken Fingaz stands as a vibrant outlier. Formed in the early 2000s in Haifa, Israel, the collective began not as an art-world darling, but as a graffiti crew with a deep desire to leave marksvisual, emotional, and cultural the urban landscapes they called home. For them, the streets were not merely canvases; they were living, breathing environments in which their art could evolve in real-time dialogue with the city and its people.
This crewfeaturing key member Unga among othersrepresents a paradigm shift in how we view artistic authorship. Rather than celebrating the isolated brilliance of an individual, Broken Fingaz emphasizes the synergy of collaboration. Their model is less about spot light and more about synergy, much like a band, where each member brings a different rhythm, influence, and energy. Together, they’ve built a language that is not just visual but also emotional, one that continues to resonate across continents and mediums.
Unga, often considered the philosophical compass of the crew, likens their creative process to that of musicians jamming together. Just as a band doesn't lose its essence when writing a song together, neither does a visual artist when working in harmony with others. It’s a concept that challenges traditional hierarchies in the art world, replacing ego with echowhere every hand adds its own tone to the composition. This isn't dilution, he argues; it’s expansion. The result is a visual symphony where voices blend, challenge, and elevate one another.
Within this collective approach lies a powerful rejection of the narrative that equates individualism with authenticity. Broken Fingaz instead presents authenticity as something that emerges from shared labor, collective memory, and communal exploration. Their studio functions more like a think tank than a solitary retreat. Ideas are passed around, argued over, reimagined, and sometimes discarded, only to re-emerge in a new form. It's in this dynamic tension that some of their most profound work is born.
Their journey from spray cans to galleries, from makeshift street installations to acclaimed animations and sculptures, isn't one of assimilation into the mainstream. It’s a story of amplification of taking the raw energy of the streets and channeling it into forms that stretch across borders, cultures, and industries, all while keeping the integrity of their origin intact.
The Fluid Boundaries of Medium, Influence, and Culture
Broken Fingaz refuses to be boxed into a single medium or cultural frame. Over the past two decades, they’ve seamlessly flowed between graffiti, animation, mural work, sculpture, zines, and digital experiments. Whether collaborating on an album cover for Beck or creating live visuals for Kendrick Lamar, the crew’s aesthetic adapts without compromise. Their work carries a signature style often surreal, vibrant, and emotionally charged but remains open to the textures and tones of the cultures they interact with.
This adaptability doesn’t stem from a desire to please; it arises from a deep-rooted belief in cultural kinship. Art, for Broken Fingaz, is a universal language, and every collaboration is a conversation. These aren’t just partnerships, they're mutual exchanges that stretch the crew's creative boundaries while respecting the identity of those they work with.
Each project is approached not with a predetermined agenda but with curiosity. What can we learn from this musician, this space, this history? How can we allow our style to absorb, reflect, and evolve without erasing what makes us unique? It’s this balance between self and other, between influence and integrity that has allowed their work to stay both fresh and grounded.
The act of creation itself remains rooted in spontaneity. Even when working on large-scale projects or museum commissions, the first impulse often starts as a raw sketchquick, instinctive, and unfiltered. These sketches, often captured in well-worn notebooks or drawn on the back of found paper, hold a kind of intimate magic. They remind us that behind every polished piece lies a moment of pure, human expression flash of thought captured before doubt or perfectionism can intervene.
What distinguishes Broken Fingaz in an increasingly commodified art world is their resistance to excess. Unga in particular embraces a minimalist approach as an aesthetic strategy, but as a practical and philosophical choice. The decision to work smaller, to edit down, to archive selectively isn’t just about saving space or making transport easier. It’s an ecological and emotional act, rooted in the belief that art should leave behind meaning, not just material.
Minimalism here becomes a form of legacy-building in the traditional sense of achieving fame or recognition, but in the sense of accountability. Unga often reflects on the emotional weight of possessions, the burden of clutter, and the importance of being considerate about what future generations will be left to sort through. Every piece kept is a choice, a memory, a responsibility.
Imperfection, Kinship, and the Pulse of Contemporary Art
What makes Broken Fingaz stand out is not just their aesthetic but their ethos, deep commitment to imperfection, connectivity, and cultural relevance. In an age of curated perfection and algorithm-driven content, their art offers something raw, wild, and refreshingly honest. Unga often speaks about reverence for the imperfect, the unfinished, the flawed. These elements are not mistakes to be corrected, but truths to be embraced. They speak to the fragility of life, the chaos of emotion, and the beauty that lies in letting go of control.
This celebration of imperfection is inseparable from their belief in collectivism. Where others may see friction in collaboration, Broken Fingaz finds fuel. Disagreement becomes dialogue, conflict sparks creativity, and imperfection becomes a mirror for the human condition. The studio, in this light, is not just a space to produce, is a sanctuary for emotional risk, intellectual exploration, and artistic vulnerability.
For Unga, the artist is more than a creator, they are a cultural node, a point of connection through which stories, histories, and ideas flow. It’s a role that requires both humility and courage. It’s about elevating others, amplifying voices, and weaving new threads into a collective cultural narrative that is far richer than any single artist could produce alone.
From the streets of Haifa to international exhibitions, the evolution of Broken Fingaz has been anything but linear. Yet throughout their journey, a few things remain constant: a deep trust in the instinctive gesture of the hand, a fierce loyalty to the collective process, and an enduring belief that imperfection is where truth lives.
Their sketchbooks, often overlooked as mere drafts, are in fact intimate portals into their creative soul. They are repositories of memory, seeds of future projects, and physical proof of the messy, beautiful process that real art demands. Through these modest pages, entire worlds are imagined, challenged, and born.
Ultimately, Unga and Broken Fingaz do more than create art they create connection. Between artist and audience. Between tradition and innovation. Between the personal and the universal. Their work pulses with the rhythm of shared humanity, scrawled not just on gallery walls but on abandoned buildings, subway tunnels, record sleeves, and wherever else truth dares to speak.
In those messy, vibrant, spontaneous lines, you might just find the beating heart of contemporary creativity. Not isolated in a studio, but alive in the streets. Not signed by one hand, but carried by many. Not finished, but always becoming.
