Virginia-bred multidisciplinary storyteller Cam Hicks was discovered on Tumblr by A$AP Illz during his junior year of college with a DM saying, “What you’re doing in Virginia is sick, but, you got to spread your wings.” Hicks answered the call and spent the following summer in NYC with A$AP Mob, and interning at The Fader. During that summer, Hicks began to hone his artistic craft and embrace the quintessential Harlem-bred “braggadocious, but also I deserve this” mentality that became part of the signature of the Mob. After a worried call from his mom, Hicks then returned to Virginia, graduated college, and got a job in IT, shooting streetwear and spending time in NYC on the side. After getting into the rhythm of a new steady grind, Hicks was then approached by Virgil Abloh in SoHo, who offered him an opportunity to shoot for Off-White on the spot, which he then flipped into his first commission for Abloh’s Louis Vuitton. Soaking up knowledge from industry legends, Hicks has since worked with everyone from Lil Yachty and Tyler, the Creator to Reebok and Stone Island.

Hicks’ projects span mediums—whether it be a collab sneaker with Reebok, skit writing for Doechii, or a biographical photobook— all while consistently carrying the importance of authenticity in championing Black stories. We talked with Hicks about his one-of-a-kind career, filmmaking inspirations, advice to young creatives, and how Virginia actually does have something in the water.

What inspired you to get into photography and filmmaking?

The inspiration overall to get into art started with my granddad, who was a student and art teacher at Howard. He was a true ‘do whatever the f*ck you want’ artist. He was the one who got me into practicing all mediums. [But], my mom is the one who put a camera in my hand. It was one of those kiddie Kodak ones. I just gravitated towards it.

The idea of storytelling. I grew up in my grandma’s crib in Maryland, where she had a very open-door policy, so we had a lot of different archetypes of people come through the house. Growing up, learning those stories—and not only learning them, but passing them on, was just something that was really important to me. That’s why I sort of bounce around [with] my mediums, because the ways I want to tell stories fluctuate so much.

The Black story has become such a weird roller coaster. We had the ‘Do the Right Thing’ era with Spike Lee, and John Singleton, where you could tell a real Black story and make the Black plight look beautiful. Then, it switched to Afrofuturism, surrealism, and Black boy joy, which put a lot of people in rooms that they weren’t gonna be in.

Now, Atlanta‘s done. There’s no Black TV shows for real. Rap is in a weird place. Black music is in a weird place. Somebody’s gotta champion that, so I’m here to do that.

Could you describe how you’ve gotten to this point in your career?

My freshman year roommate told me what Tumblr was. I just started posting sh*t I f*cked with, it got big, and then my junior year, A$AP Illz DM’ed me, and he was like, “Yo, what you’re doing in Virginia is sick, but, like, it’s Virginia—you got to spread your wings.” At 20 years old, I had never really been outside of Virginia, so I just took the risk on it, and I started hanging out with [A$AP Mob] a lot. Then that summer, I got an internship with The Fader, and I was living in Hoboken with a bunch of people from A$AP Mob, taking the PATH train into the city every day.

At the end of that summer, I told my mom, ‘Yo, I started doing random work with these guys, and they’re sort of blowing up.’ She looked them up, and she was like, ‘What are you doing? Bro, please graduate college. You can’t drop out for this.’ And so she did the mom thing—cried on the phone.

I went to Virginia, and I actually deleted my Instagram because it was pissing me off that I couldn’t be a part of this thing. I had met all these people in New York, people doing things that I was really interested in. I got a glimpse of it, and then it was stripped [from me]. I went back to Virginia, graduated college, got a job in IT, and did that for two years. I was a coder, wearing a button-up and slacks to work every day. It was totally different than it is now.

I heard, if you get fired, you get severance, but if you quit, you don’t get sh*t. So I was like, I’m just gonna start doing everything to make them fire me. I started pulling up to work late, sometimes high, sometimes I’d take a two-hour lunch break. And then one day, my boss called me, and was like, ‘You don’t want to be here, do you?’ I was like, ‘Nah, not really.’ And he was like, ‘I’ll do you a solid. I’m gonna give you severance for two months, and go figure out what you want to do in life.’

I took that money and moved back to New York. That was 2017, and then I just got into hustle mode. I was living in a loft in Williamsburg and couch surfing, the story that everybody goes through. I started shooting a lot of underground stuff, a lot of streetwear stuff. Then one day, I was walking in SoHo and ran into Virgil, and he was like, ‘I’ve been following your career. Would you want to shoot stuff for this new store I have coming in SoHo called Off-White?’

In May of that first year, Virgil was at [Louis Vuitton]. I just told myself, everybody’s gonna either have too much ego or be too scared to ask the question. So I just texted him, and I was like, ‘Shooting Off-White is sick, but I want to shoot Louis Vuitton.’ He was like, ‘Yeah, we can catch a vibe on it, remotely.’ I was like, ‘No, no, no, I want to come to Paris and shoot.’ He was iffy at first, but then pulled a chest move—if you buy the flight, I’ll open the door. So I put all the money I had together.

I had never been to Europe. I pulled up, [and] he was just like, What do you want to do? I was like, I do a bunch of different sh*t, I just want to learn, but in return, I’ll shoot.

Then, when the pandemic hit, I sort of took a step back, and I realized that I was becoming part of the New York hamster wheel—I was tired all the time, hungover all the time, living paycheck to paycheck, even though I was making decent money. I was like, “I need to mature.”

So I moved to LA. I had been doing some things with Tyler, [the Creator], [and] we became a lot closer. I came out for like three weeks, tested the waters, did a job with [Baby] Keem, and then I was like, f*ck it, I’m out, so I just packed up all my sh*t and left. The first few years here were a little weird, but then, I got that [Lil] Yachty call for the [Let’s Start Here] creative direction, and that’s when things really cemented in terms of creative directing and directing.

Hearing your life story is so crazy. The way that you flew to Europe for the first time to meet up with Virgil.

When I pulled up, I didn’t know exactly where the office was or anything, so the first place I saw on Pont Neuf that said Louis Vuitton, I just walked in there. I walked to the front desk, and I was like, ‘Hey, I’m here to see Virgil.’ And the receptionist looks at me, and she’s like, ‘Who?’ I’m like, ‘Virgil Abloh,’ and then she types and types in her computer. She’s like, ‘Have a seat, just give me a moment.’ 45 minutes go by, and so I’m sitting [there], internalizing all this. I just flew here—he forgot. I flew here—he’s busy. I flew here—I was texting somebody random. All these thoughts came into my mind, then finally I got a text from Virgil’s assistant, Athi, and he was like, ‘Hey, I heard that you’re on the street, but you’re on the women’s side.’ I was like, ‘Oh, now this makes sense why they have no clue who the f*ck Virgil is.’

What is your favorite memory from working with Virgil? Any advice he gave you that sticks with you to this day?

He’s the one example of truly anything is possible. If he wanted to design a water bottle, he was going to do it. If he wanted to do a music video with Pop Smoke, he was going to do it. There was no box for him. He’s designing a f*ckin’ $125,000 bag—but then we’re blasting Soulja Boy in the office until four in the morning.

My mantra just comes from the experiences I’ve had with him, which is: act like you’ve been there before. I know if I just do what I innately would do, people are gonna be cool with it, and people are gonna understand why I’m here in the long run.

Despite everybody trying to put things in a box or make things very contrived, I just always remember him and how he moved, and put that ethos into my stuff. Always be somewhat childlike—always have that yearning for being a student forever. Even though he is soft spoken, he’s saying a lot in [his] actions.

What’s your most memorable moment from hanging around A$AP Mob as they were on their come-up?

I had never seen a leader like [A$AP] Yams. I had just never really seen somebody be so culturally relevant to so many different things. You got homies from Texas, you got homies from LA—all of them consistently talked to Yams, and Yams understood every single one of them.

Being with them was learning confidence, and how to be expressive in a way that teeters the line of braggadocious, but also I deserve this. They came on the scene, similar to Odd Future, it was like, ‘Y’all can’t tell me what the f*ck to do, because I know what the f*ck I’m doing.’ That type of confidence is something that you don’t see a lot nowadays.

In New York, [A$AP] Rocky and them showed me how to be confident in the streets and how to carry myself. But then, Madbury Club was teaching me how to do photo, video, [and] how to do pitch decks. I was learning all these things as a fly on a wall, and Madbury Club was my way to get a crash course since I didn’t go to school for it.

What is your advice to young creatives trying to break into the industry and find their spot?

F*ck what people think is cool. Being cool is literally the stories that are innately just you. Even when I direct things for people that aren’t from Virginia, they’re like, ‘That’s Black, that’s Virginia, that’s Cam,’ that’s all I want. In a sea of photo and video all looking the same, I just took a step back, and I was like, ‘What’s the one thing I have that nobody else has?’ It’s my experience in Virginia. It’s my experience with my family, and my stories. Whenever I gravitate towards those, it’s always a springboard for my career.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve done to get out of a creative block?

When people get into a deep dive of, if I write enough, or if I look at enough references, it’s gonna unblock, but you need to step away. You need to get primal with it. Touch grass.

Last year, I hiked Machu Picchu, and when I got to the top, I had Crocs in my bag, took off my hiking boots, and then just walked it. Then, I took my Crocs off, just bare feet—bare feet on sacred land can go a long way.

Your video practice creates a lot of tension and humor. You play with a lot of tight compositions, whip pans, quick zoom-ins—where does that rhythm and style come from?

I’m heavily inspired by John Singleton. He’s one of the greatest directors who comes from a somewhat similar background to mine. I mean, [an] Oscar at 24 for something like ‘Boyz n the Hood’ is crazy.

Humor was a big thing in my household, like the kings of comedy—Bernie Mac. My dad grew up on Redd Foxx and Richard Pryor. Everybody’s making these serious fashion films that aesthetically look great, but I kept finding myself, at the end of them, being like, ‘What the f*ck does it mean though?’ Everybody wants to laugh. That’s the sweet spot, and it translates way further than a lot of serious stuff. Especially because it’s serious as f*ck outside.

When I was growing up, a lot of the commercials had that subtle comedic tone. The ‘Whassup’ Budweiser commercial and the Terry Tate Reebok commercial. They’re comedic, but then at the end of it, you actually looked at the message, because that’s what engaged you.

I did that Reebok ad in their HQ, making fun of Reebok and everybody else. I remember my agent was like, ‘You probably are gonna ruffle feathers and [you] might not get work for a little bit after this.’ And I was like, ‘That’s fine, because somebody got to say these things.’ If I have a tortoise over the hare career, but I get to say what I want, I’m fine with that. I don’t need the 300,000 followers and 10,000 likes to get to where I need to go. Ryan Coogler doesn’t even have a f*cking Instagram.

In a time where there’s so much AI and VFX, I’m down to be the one director that just naturally storytells. [It’s] also just about keeping things very unapologetically and coherently Black, at least Southern Black.

So the Hicks Instagram has been inactive for a while.

Hicks will still be an entity, but it will be a challenge. I’m gonna drop product when I want to drop product, I’m gonna tell stories when I want to tell stories. It might go idle for a year, but it’s gonna still be a thing. It’s just on my terms as I grow and learn.I’ve had great mentors, I’ve had these great moments, I’ve had these little glimpses, but now I really want to build this into a machine.

It seems like for you, for Hicks, and everything that you do creatively, it’s more about passion and authenticity than consistency.

I lost so much money on Hicks, but I’m okay with that, because the one thing I love is when people come up, and they’re just like, ‘Man, I love the things you’re doing with the Hicks. It’s the Black voice right now.’ Losing the money was cool then, because I did what I wanted to, and it’ll come back in some way.

Is there something in the water in Virginia?

Yes, 100%.

It’s the Southern hospitality, golden rule, type of vibe, that if you leave Virginia and you take it anywhere else, people are like, ‘Wait, something different about you.’ When I got to New York, I was like, I’m just happy to be here. I’m just gonna be gracious, because that’s what I was taught to do, Virginia people having that goes a long way.

A lot of people think the technical skills are the thing that gets you through the door, but it’s the interpersonal—it’s who you are as a person. When I was shooting the Louis Vuitton stuff, I know there were thousands of photographers in Paris that were probably better, thousands of photographers in America that were probably better than me—but I was always in there early, with a smile.

I just did a bunch of videos for this Venezuelan band called Rawayana, and this Black PA came up to me at the end, and he was like, ‘I’m so appreciative that I was on this set because you just make it so easy, you’re just laughing, and you’re making jokes with people, and it’s goofy. It’s doesn’t feel like if I f*ck up, it’s a problem.’ That was one of the best compliments I ever got. I could get a really good lighting tech, a really good retoucher, but I can never repeat people’s perception of me the first time they meet me. Growing up in Virginia, that’s the mindset. I have my smile and my voice, and outside of that, everything else comes and goes.

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