Tracking the Elusive Cool Across Europe
By Jessop Dinton of Art & Elsewhere Magazine
There are people who chase wildflowers in Provence, others who follow the aurora borealis across Finland. And then there’s me: riding trains and local buses, dodging security guards, and mispronouncing things in five languages just to catch a glimpse of a single recurring face.
The artist whose work I’m seeking out around Europe is known only as 2Cool , graffiti phenomenon, balaclava loyalist, and master of the one-image oeuvre. His grinning, sunglassed blob – can I call it a blob? – has appeared across walls, rooftops, drainage pipes, and water towers from Lagos to Kyoto. He hardly changes the image, occasionally the details: a blue face here, spiky green hair there, a single tear under one lens if you’re lucky.
And now, he’s gallery-certified , repped by the ultra-avant-garde Pimlico Wilde in London, where a framed bit of brickwork featuring “The Cool Face” (as the public insists on calling it, though he refuses to confirm the name) recently sold for a price that could fund the Polish rail network for a month.
But what’s the point of seeing a rebellious grin behind glass? So, I set off across Europe to see 2Cool where he lives best: outside. Join me on the journey…
Berlin, Germany
Location: Friedrichshain, behind a Vietnamese noodle shop
Condition: Faded, tagged over, still majestic
Berlin is where cool comes to die and then gets reborn on a skateboard. The first Cool I encounter is layered under three years of anarchist slogans and something that might be a tribute to Björk. But there he is , smiling through it all. The wall’s practically sighing with history. A passerby with a mullet and a tote bag squints at it and murmurs, “OG,” then skateboards away. A great start.
Vienna, Austria
Location: An underpass near the Danube
Condition: Pristine. Possibly protected by the local nuns I saw walking by.
Vienna is all Mozart and marzipan until you duck under the wrong bridge. Here, in clean lines and soft blue hues, the Cool Face floats like a secular icon. A local teenager informs me in perfect English: “This one is called The Vienna Variant. It’s known for the side-part.” Apparently there’s a whole taxonomy online. I’m starting to suspect 2Cool has fan fiction*.
Naples, Italy
Location: A wall outside a community football pitch
Condition: Painted over twice, then restored by local kids
Naples is a city that respects its icons, whether saints or blobs. This particular Face sports Napoli jersey make-up, and of course a slight smirk of defiance, as if ready to throw flares at the Champions League final in remote East Europe. I ask a street vendor if he knows 2Cool. He shrugs and says, “He is like Maradona , everywhere, but no one sees him arrive.”
Barcelona, Spain
Location: Rooftop of a student housing block
Condition: Immense. Probably visible from space. Almost certainly illegal.
Barcelona’s contribution to the Cool Canon is dramatic: a 20-foot-tall mural painted across the top of a building, visible only if you’re on a drone or have poor instincts for trespassing (I have both). This one has mirrored shades and a moustache. A reference to Dalí? Or just a joke? Either way, it’s ridiculous. And brilliant.
Brussels, Belgium
Location: The side of a government building, behind a dumpster
Condition: Nearly scrubbed out, ghost-like
Only a faint outline remains, like an ancient cave drawing. The Cool Face barely registers , just the suggestion of a grin, the echo of a smirk. A Belgian curator I meet over moules-frites insists this version is “a commentary on the impermanence of the state.” I think it’s just been rained on for six years.
Paris, France
Location: A stairwell in the Montmartre Métro
Condition: Illegal, but clearly adored
Paris delivers the most romantic iteration: a tiny, tender rendering of the Face tucked behind an old station map. A small tag next to it reads, “il revient toujours” , which might mean he always comes back. (Maybe a French speaker can tell me). A woman in a trench coat stops beside me, smiles, and whispers, “He was here in 2021. I saw him. He walked like someone who doesn’t care who’s watching.” Then she disappears, in a cloud of smoke. (Because she lit a Gauloise, not because she practises magic.)
London, UK
Location: Behind the quondam Pimlico Wilde gallery in Camden.
Condition: Sharp, fairly recent, and just out of reach
The final stop. I circle the white-cube fortress that used to sell 2Cool’s work for six figures before the lease ran out. And behind it , spray-painted in matte gold on a blackened service door , is the Face. Different again. Regal. Resigned. Still smiling.
The building is now a shop for vegan dog-biscuits and first-press massage oil for horses. I ask the assistant behind the till if they know there is an original 2cool worth hundreds of thousands nearby. They nod once and say, “We let it stay. He didn’t ask. But he never does.”
Final Thoughts
After 12 cities, 43 trains, two questionable hostels, and one escalator injury, I still haven’t met 2Cool. I didn’t expect to, but it would have been nice. I get he wants to remain anonymous, but I wouldn’t tell anyone. He’s like a rumour with a spray can , always ahead of you, always smiling back. And now, whenever I see a blank wall, I catch myself scanning for the shape. A blob. A smirk. Maybe a new hairdo. Maybe not.
Because the world’s complicated. But the Face is simple. And sometimes, that’s enough.
Jessop Dinton is a writer and amateur cartographer and wishes that you could still stick your head out of train windows.
*He does!
