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This city tends to cultivate the ultimate multi-taskers—people who aren’t simply complacent with sticking with one career and casually pursing other hobbies. You have an interest, and you try to be the best you can. Ben Stubbington burns the candle at both ends, working as a menswear designer in fashion as well as an artist, producing paintings that have been shown regularly at Brooklyn’s Sideshow Gallery. The parallels between fashion and art make for a natural fit: the lines of a canvas versus the lines of a suit, a pair of pants. The two share an appreciation for lines, color, geometry—one just gets put on a wall, and the other gets to be actively used in life.

As an artist and designer living in New York City for the last 14 years, we wanted to ask the Brooklyn-based Brit some questions about what this place means to him, the hard parts about creating here, and—more importantly—what makes it all worthwhile.

What’s a regular workday look like for you?

Ride to work. Answer some emails. Put some music on, then it’s some or all of the rest. I design clothes so my days are not routine. Maybe it’s a fitting. Maybe it’s working with my team. Maybe it’s business meetings, a presentation. Maybe it’s working on concept, on fabric. Then ride home or meet friends.

What’s the hardest part about living in New York?

It’s the best and worst part: It wears you out, makes you think and doesn’t let you think. And taxi drivers can’t see cyclists for some reason.

What’s the most difficult part about being a creator here?

Space. Not enough hours in the day, so… time, the scenes.

Then again, what makes it worthwhile?

Every day you see something that triggers something, inspires you, makes you smile. You might not notice it until later, but it will creep in. There is an underlying current that drives you to create.

Things that generally make living here easier:

Family, friends, creativity, diversity.

Who or what do you find the most inspiring here?

Normally, the unexpected things that you just so happen to see when walking or riding the streets—could be like this morning, the way a guy had packaged some wood flooring for the trash. I’m not sure I have ever wrapped a gift with such preciseness. A plant that finds a corner of concrete to grow from, or the non-deliberate art that is created by painting over walls. Etc, etc. Etc.

Your morning commute looks like:

Dodging the metal coffins down Delancey Street.

Preferred mode of transport in NYC:

Always two wheels, the man-powered kind.