Words: Izzy Copestake
Jack Daniel’s and District share an authentic love for street culture and as Ireland’s palette continues to expand and intertwine we’ve joined forces to document the major developments as they happen. Arnold Park Studios is a Dublin-based apparel brand and creative studio that riffs on the simplicity of commercial logos, reinterpreted on the brands durable and high quality tee shirts, hoodies and caps. Arnold Park Studios’, like the logos they reinterpret, are all about garments that stand the test of time and remain in your wardrobe for years after you buy them.
We chatted with the brand’s founder, Andy Beller about elevating everyday visuals like logos and signage into wearable art, the influence of skate culture, rap music, and the intersection of fashion and social commentary. From his exclusive recent collaboration with us, to his upcoming project critiquing the Irish housing market, we chatted all about all things inspiration and what the future holds. This Thursday 5 December, Arnold Park Studios and Aaron Fahy will be launching an exclusive merch drop in collaboration with Jack Daniels at the District pop up, celebrating a year of our hip hop cyphers.
Introduce yourself, what APS is all about?
I’m Andy Beller, founder of Arnold Park Studios. It’s a graphic apparel brand named after the cul-de-sac where I live. The brand’s mission is essentially about taking the visual clutter we encounter daily—logos, signage, and the imagery we usually ignore—and elevating it. I reimagine these visuals and turn them into garments that I hope people find interesting.
Can you tell me a bit about sourcing the blanks?
I put a lot into sourcing high-quality blanks. I want garments that are thick, durable, and sustainable. While the sustainability conversation in fashion has quieted down lately, I still believe in creating things that are both physically and stylistically durable.
“I still believe in creating things that are both physically and stylistically durable”
That’s an interesting point—stylistically durable. Things like T-shirts and hoodies have been, and will be, staples forever.
Exactly. My bread and butter is the humble T-shirt, hoodie, and baseball cap. These are timeless pieces. My hope is that one day, people will find my items in thrift stores, not knowing the brand, and just think, “This is cool,” and wear it. I also enjoy making things that feel like understated business merch—simple, classic logos that almost masquerade as something boring, yet versatile and universal.
Nice, do you have any standout projects where you’ve reinterpreted logos?
Next year, I have a collection dropping that focuses on Irish developers and construction companies, though some might not strictly be Irish. I’ve compiled their logos into a montage on the back of garments. It’s a recurring project for me—a big multi-logo T-shirt each season. This one excites me because it ties into a hot topic in Ireland: the housing issue.
It’s partly about the banality of these logos and how omnipresent they are. Look at Dublin’s skyline, for example—you see cranes everywhere. These companies are building rental properties that often don’t solve the real housing issues or help people get on the property ladder. It’s a critique of the industry, not necessarily individual companies. The profits they make don’t always translate into value for long-term residents of Ireland. There’s no explicit message, like crossing out the logos to say “screw these guys.” Instead, I place them together on the garment, letting people interpret the context. I want people to ask themselves, “Why would someone do this?”
“I want people to ask themselves, “Why would someone do this?”
That makes sense—it’s open-ended. So seeing those logos on clothing instead of construction signs might prompt people to think differently?
Exactly. If I annoy anyone, I hope it’s people in that industry. Maybe I’ll finally get my cease-and-desist letter from a corporate lawyer!
Has anyone from these companies ever reached out to you?
Not really, but there was one instance involving a Danish laundromat that had a logo with two drip characters. I first saw it on a hotel laundry bag while at a trade show. I thought, “These are great!” They reminded me of World Industries skateboards from the ’90s, which had a character called Wet Willy. I figured this could be my take on that.
I put the logo on caps and hoodies and wore one of the caps while in Copenhagen. Some guys at a bar recognised it and said, “That’s a very famous laundromat!” It turns out one of the founders of the laundromat was among the first people in Denmark to publicly speak about mental health issues, particularly men’s mental health, on television. He helped start a national conversation. Tragically, he took his own life, but during his time, he sparked meaningful discussions around mental health in Denmark. It was such a weird, serendipitous moment to learn that backstory because I had plucked the logo purely for its visual appeal. Learning the backstory about the founder and his impact on Danish society became one of the most exciting outcomes of using that logo.
“It turns out one of the founders of the laundromat was among the first people in Denmark to publicly speak about mental health issues, particularly men’s mental health, on television.”
How do you choose the logos you use?
The logos I choose often come from smaller, lesser-known companies—people who aren’t making their own merch or aren’t globally recognisable. A lot of my taste comes from growing up in the Midwest in America. My dad renovated our house, and I spent years helping him. That meant time spent in DIY stores, warehouses, and salvage yards, which left a lasting impression on me.
I also worked in an auto shop during high school. In the Midwest, you’re exposed to logos created by self-taught designers, not polished, modernist, Bauhaus-trained professionals. These self-taught creators often come up with visual solutions that are far more compelling to me. They link letters in unexpected ways or use gradients that might seem “lowbrow” but are visually striking. I unironically find these designs fascinating. I’m jealous of a lot of them.
“These self-taught creators often come up with visual solutions that are far more compelling to me.”
People even send me pictures now—logos on trucks, in bathrooms, or anywhere else—and say, “This made me think of you.” That’s the best compliment. It means I’ve curated a style or taste that people associate with me. I’ve even used some logos that people have sent me or spotted on Instagram stories. That’s part of the fun.
Arnold Park Studios has been embraced by the skating community, can you tell me more about that?
Skateboarding is my unabashed midlife crisis. I finally admitted to myself that I’d never stuck with skateboarding in high school. I gave up when I realised I could get hurt. As an adult, I don’t care as much about getting hurt—I just want to have fun.
To me, nobody dresses cooler than skateboarders. Their style is understated and effortless—they can get dressed in the dark and still look cool. Skateboarding also appeals to me because it’s one of the few public activities where people genuinely hang out in real life. They gather in a spot, chat, and create a community. If you watch skate videos, much of the footage isn’t even skating—it’s people eating convenience store food, sitting on cold ledges, or celebrating a landed trick with a few drinks. In our increasingly digital world, that real-life fellowship is rare.
Skaters, like graffiti artists, are great at scanning the built world, finding spots they can use creatively—banks, ledges, or even weird architectural features. One of the few spots in Dublin that facilitates public skateboarding, outside of a skatepark, is now threatened by the hotel and building industry.
“To me, nobody dresses cooler than skateboarders.”
That approach skaters have—reinterpreting the urban environment—is interesting. It reminds me of your brand, in a way. You take what’s already built and reimagine it.
With graphic design, I’ve always tried to emulate other art forms I find interesting. At one point, I wanted to make visual art that did what rap music does. But I found that difficult without it coming off as twee or cutesy. If anything I’ve done parallels how skateboarders approach the world, I’d be very flattered.
Speaking of rap music, what’s the connection between Arnold Park Studios and music?
What really sparked my desire to make things outside of my day job was hearing Young Thug when he first came out. As I got into his work, I was struck by how he bent the world around him. It wasn’t about copying influences—he’s such an original voice. His music is evocative, affecting, and hits different people in different ways. I’d play it for people who’d ask, “Is this even music?” But I saw it as the work of a master. The song Danny Glover was especially powerful for me. It moved me to tears because it inspired me to get what’s authentic and unique to me out in the world, and care as little as possible about how it’s received. The best rappers don’t pander—they say, “This is dope. Check it out. I have something to say.”
Can you tell me a little more about your involvement with the JD Cypher project?
What excited me most was that it focused on the Irish rap scene. I admire how artists in a small country like Ireland—where it’s hard to break out—are not only succeeding locally but making waves internationally. Ireland punches above its weight in many ways, and rap is one of them. The project being tied to this scene and featuring live performances was really appealing to me.
These exclusive tees will be available for a short time only, 7-9PM Thursday and Friday 5-6 December from the District Pop Up at 3 Eustace St, Temple Bar. The first 20 people through our doors will be blessed with a tee for free!
Both our artistic maestros Arnold Park Studios and Aaron will be doing one of one doodles on t-shirts on Thursday evening. Complementary drinks courtesy of Jack Daniel’s with some selectors to set the tone. Come through.