Profile 016: Felton Brown, VP of Creative Services at Dreamville Ventures

The avenues of creativity one can take behind the scenes in music, art, fashion, and film are endless. But in music, the album cover artwork is its own holy grail of iconic potential. Enter Felton Brown, a graphic designer whose training in art has led to an almost 20 year career directing the visual design of various icons — one of the most visible being J. Cole. Growing up in Flatbush, Brooklyn Felton knew early on that art was an area that he wanted to explore more. But it took intuitive and wise understanding and other mentors, friends, and family seeing him to truly bring forth his path forward. It’s a journey he doesn’t take lightly, and karma that he hopes to pay forward: in his leadership, collaborations, and mentoring the next generation.

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What do you do professionally? What is the fullest description of your roles and title?

I'm Vice President of Creative Services for Dreamville Ventures. A creative director, graphic designer, and, by trade, an idea person.

How has your role evolved over the course of your career?

Well, in the beginning, it was about learning; everything that came across was literally school, no matter when it was or what I was getting paid. Because every industry I stepped my foot into was through an unorthodox way of entry. My initial foot into graphic design was out of school and starting my own business. The first entry point wasn't even a business that I had or got to be an apprentice. I was, I guess, my own apprentice and just learned on the fly, which is definitely something I would not recommend. It's always good to start your own business but there are so many things you could learn from having a mentor in a space. That will help you sidestep landmines and potholes that you really don't need to [experience]-- and you'll get the tutelage from someone who's seen certain things before that you don't have to waste your time on.

When you start your own business, you're doing everything: you're carrying a coffee, you're carrying boxes of party flyers all the way through the city. It's nice to learn that stuff to give you a sense of humility, but there are other things in that space that you don't really have to learn. It's better if you meet someone who has the game and they just pass it on to you.

Interesting, who was that person for you? 

I have many. My earliest design mentor was probably Cey Adams. When I was in high school I used to intern after school at Def Jam Records, when it used to be down on 160 Varick -- which is a historical spot where Def Jam was for a long time in the 90s. When talking about Jay Z, Volume 2, DMX, Method Man, Redman — all the big artists in the 90s that re-solidified Def Jam as a house that hip hop built — I used to go there and worked on the on-the-street team: hanging up posters on the West Side Highway, going to in-stores giving out flyers, CDs, maxi singles, a bunch of stuff. But it was just because I wanted to be in music. I was a lover of music, I spent all my lunch money on CDs all the time, and my Dad had a friend, a friend of a friend, who knew Russell from back in the day and he got me my first internship there.

 While I was at Def Jam, being a street team guy, most of our job was outside, but I was always trying to find my way to be inside the office. And being inside the office, I met a lot of great people. My direct boss was Rob Love, who ran all promotions street teams and then, under that, I got to transition to work under several people. One was Jennifer Hirsch[-Davis], who was a big mentor to me, and she's actually still in the industry. She works at Def Jam right now. 

Cey Adams was my design mentor. Cey ran the creative department at Def Jam, which was called The Drawing Board. They did everything: any pivotal album cover you could think of in the 80s and the 90s, he pretty much touched all of it. I didn't work in that office but I would always be a hanger-on, as an art kid. I went to art school, and I would always try to sneak and go see what they were working on. I saw album covers that were different renditions that didn't come out, and it was this crazy, creative space where I got to be...just seeing.

Iconic album covers designed by Cey Adams

At the time, I didn't know that [was the direction] where I was heading because I was still trying to just be in the music industry: do I want to be an A&R, do I want to do this, do I want to do that. I never really knew that I'd go back to art because as good as it was to go to an art high school, I still feel like teachers across the board sometimes don't know how to reach Black children. And I feel like I started to fall out of love with art because of the way it was being served to me. So music was going to be my passion. 

By the time I was in my senior year, Cey took me to this Nike event he was working on with my friend Curtis. And I got to see some creative direction from that side of it, which was cool. It sparked my mind again, about how there was way more than I knew [to the art side of music]. My teachers in high school weren't showing me what he showed me.

STORYTIME

And then when I got to my Senior Year and was graduating, I went to go see Cey one day and he was like:

"Yo so whatchu gonna do? You're about to graduate."

And I was like, "Oh, ah, I don't really know."

Then he was like, "Don't you go to that art school?"

I was like, "Yeah, I go to High School of Art and Design."

And he was like, "Yeah, you go to art school. Right? You do art -- graphics, right?"

I was like, "Yeahhh, sort of." 

Then he was like, "Yeah, you know what,"

-- and he had this poster in his office, and it had all these Def Jam covers on the poster, only Def Jam covers, album covers over the history of Hip-Hop -- and he was like,

"Yo, you see these? I did these. Yeah, go to school for that. That's what you need to do. You need to go to school for that."

And that was literally his pep talk that made me realign and reassess. It actually was a jumpstart to getting back into my passion. Because I had all the Source Magazines, XXLs, Vibes, everything and I had a scanner and a printer; I started cutting stuff out to try and figure out what an album cover would look like if I worked on it, and things of that nature. 

He was my first of many mentors in my journey. He definitely sticks out.

Let's backtrack even further. When you were growing up, did you know that you loved art? Did you want to be an artist when you were a child? Looking back, in what moments can you see the person that you are now? The person who loves graphic design, loves design, has an eye for it -- when did that start?

Well, I mean, it has always been that way. I was a big collector of comic books very young, because my original passion was that I was gonna have my own comic book. When I was a kid in elementary school I used to draw all the time. And then when I was in junior high school, I'd be drawing all this stuff in class not doing my work, but there were no art programs like that. There really weren't any art programs. Looking back, it's so crazy how we didn't have an outlet to do those things, and it was really sad;  me and a couple of friends used to be in class and we would make up our own comic books. We would staple a couple of pieces of paper together and make the frames and literally draw out a whole comic strip. 

I went to a really rough junior high school as a kid; one of the worst ones in the city at the time.   But even then I had at least common sense to know that I did not want to go to school with 99% of the people that I went to middle school with. Because the school was just in a bad area, books weren’t updated, tons of fights, there was even a dead body in our schoolyard in seventh or eighth grade; a dead body just in the courtyard the morning before school. Someone got murdered at maybe like, five in the morning.

True story. 

I just knew like -- yo. I don't want to go to the high school that's connected [to this environment]. Basically, in New York, you go to zone schools. So if you don't go to a school that you apply for, you go to the school that's in your neighborhood. And all the schools in my neighborhood district were trash. And I was like, I don't want to get beat up, I don't want to be having to worry about my life every day, and I don't want a bad experience at school. So the only thing that I could do at the time because I wasn't super academically focused -- I'll never lie and say I was -- I asked my Deans what was another way? And they were like, “Well there are art schools you could test for, there are several art schools in the city. All you have to do is put together some kind of portfolio.” 

Now here it goes....

There's no portfolio class in my school because my school don’t got no fucking art programs.

So now I have to put together a portfolio and apply for several schools in the city. I begged my Mom to help me try to apply for these schools, and that's what we did. I applied for three or four art schools in the city and got into two. And I’ll never forget the day when I went to go take the test for Art and Design. I got there like and I spent the whole night before up, because my Mom didn't know what the fuck to do for me to get into this class. They gave us one sheet of paper saying these are sort of the things we're looking to see creatively from the students, and that was it. So I got this Trapper Keeper from the dollar store in my neighborhood. I got a hole puncher, punched the holes in some colored pencil drawings and charcoal stuff, and put them all in this pad. I wrote my name on the front, got my little pencils from Pearl Paint, and I was mad hype. I'm like, alright, I'm gonna go take the test tomorrow and I couldn't even sleep. 

And I remember the next day I get to the school and there's all these kids outside going to take the test. But these kids got like...they’ve got the really big leather-bound easels and all type of shit and I just got this cheap ass fucking Trapper Keeper. So now I'm like, damn, I'm not getting in. And that was the first thought in my head, because everybody just seemed way more prepared. I didn't have these things! It's not like my parents couldn't afford them. I just didn't know! I didn't know about these different number pencils and all this stuff because we didn't have programs that taught us that. I was fooling around with crayons and pencils that I had around the house, so that was a shocker to me. So anyway, we took the test, did my best.

What was the test?

They had a model come in that you had to sketch, and then sketch some fruit, they gave an abstract thing to kind of mess with, they gave you different colored pencils and charcoals and pastels to see what you could come up with in your mind. And I just did what I wanted to do. I was like shit, I ain't got no choice. And then they did like a review of the drawings that you brought in; and that was somebody looking at your work and trying to review and look what kind of raw skill set you had. 

Then we didn't hear for like a month or two. And school’s going by, I'm still in fucking school, shit's trash. Then, finally, I hear that I got accepted to two schools, and I'm just like, bettt. I was extremely happy because I could ride the train in the morning to school, I'm going to Manhattan every day, so that was one exciting moment -- like a fake grownup kind of moment, about how my experience will be in the next stage of school. And then it was just the accomplishment of facing something really young and kind of tackling it myself. So that was really good.

Was that the biggest turning point of your career... but that's obviously not your career yet, but of your life?

I do think it is because I think if it's not number one it has to be in the top three moments of my life. Because if I didn't get into Art and Design -- even though when I got there, I deviated a bit -- I did get immersed in so much culture: being in the city every day, the new friends, new experiences, all those things I do appreciate because it did mold me and it got me to one place that sparked me a little bit. I feel like if I didn't go that route I would have just been in school in the hood. And, being young and impressionable, and not some big, big kid that could probably defend himself at the time, you know, America eats its young. It could have been a fucking wack ass experience for me -- and that probably could have shaped my life a lot. 

I always pay tribute to that turning point in saving my life. I got a lot of friends that grew up in the hood and some of that shit sucks some of them in. I was lucky that I didn't have to experience some of the stories and shit like that.

What were those two other turning points in your life? 

I would say when I graduated and started my business with my boys. Because we didn't know what the fuck we were doing, but we were blessed to have the opportunity to be in a space where we're able to flex -- like all our money that we made from the business literally went back into paying bills. So all of us were all living at home in our parents houses, but we had an office that we would go to every day, and we worked on things while we were really young with a lot of notable clients -- luckily, out the gate. Because one, I guess I know how to talk and I know how to relate to people, and I was able to connect the dots and link with a lot of people really early, running our own shop. And then this is definitely where another mentor in my life came in because he provided a space for us to actually have an office in the city. Which is, you know -- I tell people all the time I used to have an office that's between fifth and sixth [avenues] when I was really young.

And it was right before the internet. I feel like we always joke with my boys about if the internet and technology was what it was today and we had that opportunity, who knows what we could have done. Because we had a lot of insights into a lot of things, but the technology didn't meet the time. 

So Director X, who I knew as Little X back in that time, is definitely a huge part of my journey and climb. He put me in a place where I was able to have more credibility by being where I was in that space, and then also some of the connections we made during that time, and time we build websites for like, Warner Music Group. We did some work for Def Jam really early on, and Virgin Records and a bunch of others.We were really lucky to be in that space for a few years. It was a big learning curve, absolutely. And then usually when it’s your own business, you're just pouring the money that you're making right back into it.

What are your favorite things about this role? At Dreamville, being a creative director? Even, shit, what are the best things about being a creative?

I mean, I like working on things that have high visibility because that means there's pressure. But I also like working with the people that I work with, because they're people that I really know.

When you work with people that you're close to, I feel like there's some wiggle room to push your thoughts and push back more; whether you land on something you agree with, or not.  If it's a stranger as a client, say you push it, and they're like, "No," -- I don't think you really have a chance to do that again. Because then they'll just take it like being disrespectful even when you might have a genuinely good reason.  Your friend will let you do that more so than a stranger. A stranger will think that you're just trying to control them. 

So I feel like that camaraderie and that familiar style is a blessing. Also watching the journey of where this company started to where it is now, it's a beautiful thing to go from really small things to far bigger things to work on creatively. I think that's definitely rewarding. And I believe in the artistry of the artists that we work with, so that's the thing that makes it special.

And you've been with Cole for how long?

So I've been working at Dreamville, officially, for four years this past June. But I've been working on all type of Dreamville stuff since Cole was finishing up college; I've known him for a long time. He's a friend, I've known him that long. So we have a lot of history. I've touched a lot of things during that time for Dreamville in various aspects, like helping build out early websites, mixtape covers -- just different things all around.

How has your work forced you to grow as a soul?

As a soul? Hmm...when I was really young, I wanted things done my way. And the number one thing I learned in my journey as a creative is that you have to be not thin-skinned and realize that you're just a surrogate for someone else's idea. Unless I'm building something for myself, that's personally something that I'm putting into the world, usually, when I communicate, if I'm communicating some creativity, it's based on a client, or someone I'm working for, like in a boss or a company standpoint. So I think you got to have a little thick skin and understand that if you're doing art for commerce, most of the time it's not yours. So that's probably one of the things that I learned the most and for my spirit, me understanding that has made me have a peace with it, that I think I wouldn't have had when I was younger. But you have to learn that I guess, through the journey.

So that's something that the journey taught you -- what personal evolutions transformed the way that you work or look at work? In the reverse?

My evolution is I want to really collaborate; allowing the people I'm collaborating with to exercise in the best way they can. I'm not just looking for hands to convey a thought; I want everyone to feel like they're putting their thought into it. And that might seem impossible, because it's definitely something that may or may not come out right. But if everyone's giving you their best perspective sometimes something that you weren't looking for can surface that that's actually better than your original thought. 

So the thing that I've always noticed is, if I try to just tell you exactly the way that I want it, I might dim you in a way that you won't bring something to the table that maybe I've even missed. And I at least want to have rounds of the creative process where those things are being thrown in the mix because they might pivot us into a better direction. And I feel like a lot of times, like even when I was young, I would pass through these creative phases and processes and realize that people won't allow that. In places where I've allowed more of a collaborative space for people to think and work I've discovered things that I can't even take credit for that was actually better than what I thought of.

That feels like there's vulnerability there; that you're allowing for vulnerability. Would you agree? Or are there other ways that you think vulnerability shows up in your work? Or are you not vulnerable?

The thing is, it depends on what I'm working on. Because with some work, I'm not invested in it in a spiritual way. I might be invested in it and want it to be the best looking thing, but I might not have that peace with it. It comes and goes though, you know? That’s a case by case basis.

When have you felt the most vulnerable in your work?

[deep sigh] Hmm...I think when I've been challenged and put in a place where I haven't had that much responsibility -- and that's happened several times throughout my career where I've hit a part where I’m like, damn, can I really do this? And then you're just being tested in different ways: responsibility, timing, being looked at because if this comes out wrong, you're the only person. This is not a team thing, this shit is on you; you are responsible for this big thing and if it fucks up it's going to reflect really badly. 

So those are the times where I've had those moments. And I've gotten through them. So I think as an eternal way of thinking, I've had those sleepless nights or those nights where I've had to assess if I have to get someone fired off a project, and not knowing if -- is it my ego? Or is it the right thing to do? And will they respect me for saying, I need this done. You know? I've been in that place, and it's hard; sometimes people look at you and think you look younger and they don't really respect you because they think you're younger and then hate to put it to you, but sometimes it's a race thing. And you have to step up to it; you don't want to explode, you have to keep your cool so that people understand that it's not your anger, it's more so the passion to prove that you're worthy for the job. So I've been there in those spaces, and I've gotten on the other side of the fence.

So when did you first feel seen? Because it sounds like you’re describing seeing yourself and being seen...when was the first time you felt seen in your industry? 

The first time I felt seen was the first time someone paid me to do work. And to me, that always goes back to being one of the most important things to me, because as a creative, I used to just sit around for hours and hours and hours, designing on my own. Just for the fun of it. Like, this is what I think things would look like. And I remember my dad's friend -- my dad must have mentioned it because it wasn't like I would walk around showing people my work -- but this gentleman that my dad knew, reached out to me. And he was like, "Look, I heard you do the design stuff." And he was throwing like a big birthday party, and he was like, "I want you to do the flyer. I'll pay you." And I was like, what? He’ll pay me? And I was really young at the time and I was just really excited, and I remember staying up all night trying to come up with all these different ideas of how I wanted to do it. And if I showed it to you it's the most terrible artwork because I was really young at the time. It's terrible. But it was to me, at the time when I did it, it was probably one of the most fulfilling moments because one I was getting paid for my craft, and two the client was extremely happy and showed it off and made me feel really great. I was really, really young. I think that moment was probably the moment I knew that I could do this for a living. 

That was my confirmation, you know?

And when was the first time that you saw yourself? Was that it?

As a creative? Yeah! That's when I actually took myself seriously because after that, I think that's when I decided to get business cards, things of that nature; that's when I was like, yeah, this is what I am.

Felton’s handwritten answer to “When was the first time you felt seen in your industry?” from our December 2019 pop-up.

What inspires you now, at this age, this place? How do you stay inspired? 

I mean, I like to see new work. I like to see new work but not on the internet. I still will go outside and I'll just snap pictures of stuff. It'll be like a color combination I see on a store awning. Textures.

I have this thing where I think about the algorithm and how they just keep serving you back the things that you already look at, so that's always in the back of my head when I see things online. So I don't feel like I'm seeing the things that are really gonna push me forward. Some of them are good resources but I try to look outside for more inspiration; and it could be that I see three colors and I like how they look together and that's like, oh, okay, that might be something interesting to work with.

And in all this -- what's the legacy that you want to leave behind with your work?

I want kids in the hood to know that it's possible to get to a place where they can do these things. Because even still, kids in the hood, don't have the programs. I was blessed because I had parents who were able to provide spaces for me to dream -- to have the space as a kid to daydream and think about possibilities that were bigger than just the block I grew up on. And that's why I mentor, that's why I talk to children. 

I would want my legacy to be: I'm a kid from Flatbush that's been able to creatively see the world, and it's possible. I wasn't no straight A student. I was a kid who wanted a chance to try something, and I was able to do it. And I think that's the light that I don't want to dim in any child because if it was dimmed in me, we would not be having this conversation. And that's what I try to push to kids when I meet them, to let them know.

And I hate when people just be like, "You could do it too," because that's not what I'm trying to come with. I try to tell them my entire, maniacal, up-and-down journey of coincidences, of people that I've met that connected the dots for me to get here, so that the kids can see all the little steps to know, "Damn. Okay, maybe I should be a little more personable." Or, “Maybe I should speak up, or ask a question, or ask for an opportunity.” Because a lot of times people just be like, they made it -- and they never give the granular things that got them to that point. And that's what I want to leave for kids so that they know that it is possible, and here are some of the ways to get there. 

That's the only concern I have: looking out for them.

Yes. And making sure that they know and that they see that possibility. Any final words?

If there’s anything I could leave with anybody, it’s that your dream is your dream. So whether or not other people are supporting it, or investing in it -- you shouldn't take it personal. One thing I remember about my dreams from when I was little is that I would be selfishly excited about them. I used to sit around in the attic in my parents house and just design shit because I liked it. It wasn't that I needed someone's confirmation of, "Oh, yeah, that's a cool design." It was a great compliment if, at times, they liked some of the stuff that I did. But it was me playing. I was having fun. 

And I feel like if it really is something that you care about and you’re passionate about, you shouldn't be worried about a post from someone or a like from someone. It's kind of like, go play the fool: you don't care if somebody else says it tastes bad or good if you like it, right? 

So I say to people, look at the things that you want for yourself in that way. Because if it's something you love, then who cares what everyone else says?

I love that. I needed to hear that. Thank you, Felton.

 You're welcome.