Some people live their lives in straight lines, neat, predictable, fading as quickly as chalk on a sidewalk.
But then there are the few who carve their mark deeper. The ones who understand that legacy isn’t given, it’s painted, forged, and sometimes bolted to the nose of a bomber at 30,000 feet.

I met Steve Barba when I was eighteen. Fresh out of basic training, stationed at Ellsworth Air Force Base in Rapid City, my first and only military base, a place where the wind doesn’t whisper, it warns. Back then, we were crew chiefs charged with keeping the B-1B Lancer, that sleek beast of bone and fury, alive and breathing. Most of us stuck to the mechanics, the discipline, the grind.

But Steve? Steve was different.

While technical orders and torque wrenches bound the rest of us, Steve was slipping between worlds, wielding a paintbrush with the same precision he handled a maintenance checklist. He wasn’t just keeping bombers in the sky; he was giving them character, stitching attitude onto cold metal with every stroke of nose art. In a world built for uniformity, Steve was the reminder that even machines of war deserved a little rebellion.

Now, nearly 29 years later, I find myself staring at a canvas that roars louder than any afterburner we ever lit.

A 22x17” controlled explosion of color, chaos, and mastery, Steve’s latest piece, his entry into the 2025 Rat Fink Art Contest, isn’t just a nod to Kustom Kulture. It’s a declaration. Proof that the same hands that once signed their name beneath cockpit windows still know how to command attention, this time with colored pencils, not rivets.

I’ve seen a lot of Steve’s work over the years, every piece carrying that unmistakable Barba energy. But this one… this one hit differently. As a disciplined artist myself, I don’t hesitate when I stand in the presence of mastery, and this piece spoke loud enough to stop me in my tracks.

There’s a certain joy, almost reverence, that fills me when I’m in a museum, pressing close to a canvas (as close as you can get anyway) , tracing the unspoken story of the artist’s hand. The color choices. The texture. The energy that leaps across time and space to land squarely in your chest. That’s what this is. This isn’t just an image, it’s a sojourn into the unseen. The kind of work you don’t just glance at, you feel it.

With Steve’s art, and especially in this piece, you know immediately: You’re not looking at chaos. You’re looking at controlled intent. You’re looking at a man who pencils with depth, with story, with defiance.

Never make the mistake of thinking Steve Barba’s work is surface-level. Steve is anything but surface-level.

But to truly understand the depth of this work, the madness in its detail, the discipline beneath its wild grin, you need to hear from the man himself.

The Interview: Into the Mind of Controlled Chaos

Steve, can you walk us through your process for this Rat Fink piece, from that first spark of concept to the final, frenetic details?

Steve: I’ve been drawing Rat Fink since the late 60s, third and fourth grade. So yeah, I’m well acquainted with “The Rat.” After retiring from the USAF, I became a full-time sign painter and airbrush guy. The Rat just seemed to follow the sign guys around. I’ve seen him in shops all over the country, it’s like he’s part of the trade.

What materials and tools did you use to bring this beast to life? Are there certain mediums or brands you swear by when chasing that perfect line or shade?

Steve: The best tool in my kit? Speedball graph paper. It’s got that light blue grid, gives me control without intimidation, and the slick surface doesn’t stain like other papers. I can make all kinds of marks and erase easily. If it starts getting too dirty, I just trace it clean onto another sheet. For this piece, that’s exactly what I had to do.

Once the draft is locked in, I transfer the drawing onto Bristol Smooth using a light table. Then I go in with Prismacolor pencils, they’re my go-to for everything from full illustrations to wall murals. They give me precision and control.

I lay down a full coat of white Prismacolor first, then build color on top using a “scumbling” stroke, circular, layered, leaving “holes” of white that come alive during blending. That white base lets me experiment freely. I can erase cleanly, layer colors, and if I need to go darker, I scumble in some black. For final highlights, I use acrylic craft paint with long-haired liner brushes; they hold a lot of paint, so I can just keep moving.

Your work captures this raw, kinetic energy, but there’s an undeniable precision in every detail. How do you balance that chaos with such control? Is it instinct, or something forged from your days on the flightline?

Steve: I was a Crew Chief on the B-52H/G for 15 years, then spent another 5 on the B-1B Lancer (aka “BONE”). And yeah, those days absolutely shaped how I work now. You know as well as I do, April, those machines have souls. As an artist, it’s my job to bring that soul to paper, not just for the public, but for folks like us who’ve spent countless hours with them in all weather, around the world.

That lived experience gives me an edge in aviation art. When ex-crew chiefs or flight crews grin at my work, I know I hit the mark. That’s what it’s all about, evoking something real.

Rat Fink is more than a character; it’s a symbol of rebellion, of counterculture grit. What draws you to Kustom Kulture, and what does this piece represent to you personally?

Steve: Simple. My humor never graduated past third grade.
That’s where I live, and that’s where the Rat lives too.

Are there hidden stories or subtle details in this artwork that a casual viewer might miss, but that carry special meaning to you?

Steve: Not this one. This piece is the opposite of subtle. I like the word “obnoxious.” At art shows, that’s what gets people to stop and actually look. That’s the goal. A long time ago, when I was new in the sign trade, I asked a mentor a million questions. Finally, he spun around and said, “Just make it interesting, Steve!” That line stuck with me.

So now, every line, shape, highlight, and shadow is about making it interesting, to me. If I’m not into it, why would anyone else be?

You mentioned knocking this out in just 8 days, 40-50 hours. Which is impressive. Do you thrive under that kind of pressure? Does a deadline fuel your creativity, or was this an exception? Please dive into your process.

Steve: Deadlines definitely add fuel, and when they get close, they add nitro.

This one started as a contest entry with a 10-day deadline. First, I needed a clear direction; without that, you’ll waste days chasing your tail and lose interest. I didn’t want to draw just any Rat Fink pose. I started with big shapes. Being an aviation guy, a P-40 Warhawk made sense, those iconic Flying Tigers teeth, and then the Rat.

At some point, the piece starts talking to me. This one screamed early. I drew the nose of the P-40, added the Fink, and suddenly this monster face was taking shape. Once I had the concept, I redrew everything onto clean paper and refined it. Drawing alone took about 10 hours.

Transferred that to the Bristol Smooth and began with the white Prismacolor base. Initially, I wasn’t sure where it was going, maybe a battle with Disney characters, kill marks on the plane, something like that. But eventually, the piece told me.

The Rat’s leather helmet was a turning point. I debated whether to pop his ears out, but that would ruin the leather texture. So I did something new, leather ears. That wasn’t planned. But man, I’m glad I did it. That one detail set the whole piece apart.

What’s next for you, Steve? Do you have artistic goals on the horizon, whether that’s more contests, exhibitions, or dream projects you’re chasing?

Now that I’m retired, I’ve got more time for galleries and shows. Since I’m not depending on art for income anymore, I get to chase my vision, no more grinding on commissions unless I really want to. That’s real freedom.

For younger artists trying to find their voice in bold, unapologetic styles like this, what wisdom would you pass down?

* Always have a way out. Graph paper gives you that. You can’t fail. Even if the drawing doesn’t work, you just learned what not to do next time.

Learn shapes. Understand how they relate.
3D boxes will solve more problems than you realize.
Trust the process. Trust the process. Trust the process.
If I’m not “in the groove,” I stop. A good night’s sleep can make all the difference.
Use tools that give you freedom. With that white Prismacolor base, I can erase anything, no fear.
Keep it loose. Look for humor.
Let the piece tell you where it wants to go.
And above all:

JUST KEEP IT INTERESTING.

Legacy in Every Line

There’s something rare about watching an artist who’s never lost his edge.
Steve Barba isn’t chasing trends or softening his strokes to fit polite galleries. His work snarls, spits, and demands you respect the years behind every detail, the discipline of a veteran, the soul of a rebel, and the hands of a master craftsman.

I’ve known Steve for nearly three decades. I’ve seen him in coveralls beneath the shadow of bombers and now, years later, standing tall in the glow of his own creations. What’s clear is this: whether it’s nose art on a warbird or Rat Fink tearing through a canvas, Steve doesn’t just make art.

He commands it.
And if there’s any justice in the world of ink, grease, and grit, his name will sit where it belongs right alongside the legends of Kustom Kulture.

So keep your eyes on Steve Barba. Because men like him don’t fade into the background.
They leave their mark loud, proud, and impossible to ignore.

Where Steel Meets Pencil: The Relentless Art of Steve Barba

The Interview: Into the Mind of Controlled Chaos

Legacy in Every Line

Follow Steve’s Work & Support Veteran Artists

Purple Inkwell Studios

Where Steel Meets Pencil: The Relentless Art of Steve Barba

The Interview: Into the Mind of Controlled Chaos

Legacy in Every Line

Follow Steve’s Work & Support Veteran Artists

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Purple Inkwell Studios