We’re looking forward to introducing you to Chris Hale. Check out our conversation below.
Chris, so good to connect and we’re excited to share your story and insights with our audience. There’s a ton to learn from your story, but let’s start with a warm up before we get into the heart of the interview. What are you most proud of building — that nobody sees?
I had a client who acted as a liaison between my shop and some of his “celebrity” friends. I never really put much thought into who those people were, most of the projects came with NDAs anyway, so I rarely knew where my work ended up.
A few years back, he asked me to make a unique piece of furniture for one of his friends. No sketches, no pre-approvals, just make it mine. That’s the best kind of project. No expectations except one: make it good and make it cool.
Everything went smooth, start to finish. A few weeks later, he sends me a photo of the piece installed in some beautiful, nondescript room. He tells me his friend absolutely loves it and is proud to own one of my creations. Then he adds, “I can’t tell you who it’s for, but you know him. Your parents know him. Your grandparents know him. Everyone knows him.”
To this day, I still don’t know who that was, and honestly, I prefer it that way. How boring would this story be if I just said I made something for so-and-so? The mystery makes it better.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Chris Hale, the lunatic behind Colonial Metalworks. I build wild, functional, one-off pieces out of metal — everything from fire-breathing creatures and tiki gods to furniture, sculptures, and jewelry made from reclaimed industrial parts. My brand line is “Artisan Fueled & Chaos Engineered” and that’s really what it is: I take discarded metal and give it new life and purpose.
What makes it special is the mix — it’s part blacksmith shop, part art studio, part mad scientist lab, and much more. I’m always chasing projects that feel bigger than life, whether it’s a Halloween monster that shoots flames or a simple handmade piece that ends up becoming someone’s favorite thing in their house. At the end of the day, I just want the work to stop people for a second, make them feel something real, and remind them that not everything has to come off an assembly line.
Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
I think the world starts telling us who to be the moment we’re born. Who I am now is what’s left after a lifetime of performing that assigned role. I was a man chasing an impossible standard — trying to be accepted, trying to be loved, trying to fit the mold of what a “successful man” was supposed to look like. Every choice I made — education, career, lifestyle — was driven by expectations hung on my shoulders long before I knew I had a choice. I was told that strength and intelligence had to equal productivity, so I became a builder of things, a provider, a pillar.
And then one day, it all collapsed. Every identity I’d built was stripped away — the titles, the certainty, the illusion of control. What remained were my hands… and an infinite abyss of ideas waiting to take form.
That’s where The Artist was born — from the ashes of who I thought I was supposed to be. It became my language, my therapy, and my rebellion against the world’s definitions. Every sculpture, every weld, every chaotic spark of metal is a reminder that strength isn’t about conformity — it’s about creation. My art doesn’t come from trying to impress anyone anymore. It comes from the freedom of finally being on a path to becoming what I was always meant to be.
When did you stop hiding your pain and start using it as power?
I spent most of my life searching for a release — some way to quiet the chaos inside. I tried everything that fuels the dark in a damaged soul: narcotics, fighting, anything that could drown out the noise for a moment. I left no stone unturned in my pursuit of internal peace.
Art has always been there — a constant thread through every version of me — but it wasn’t until about a decade ago that I realized creating was the most potent drug I’d ever touched… and the only one that truly worked.
My mind never stops. It’s like a machine that doesn’t have an off switch. I see patterns, solutions, entire creations before I even touch the first piece of metal. That kind of constant motion can be tormenting when all you want is silence. But the moment my hands take over — when I’m shaping, welding, building — everything shifts. The noise quiets. My head clears. It becomes a space where I can finally listen to the thoughts I usually bury — the pain, the memories, the lessons. And in that process, my hands translate all of it into something tangible. Every piece I make carries that energy — the transformation of pain into purpose.
So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. Is the public version of you the real you?
Absolutely and definitely not.
In the world we live in now, especially with social media, that’s a question we should all be asking ourselves more often. It’s too easy to get tangled in the web and become whatever version the algorithm rewards. As an artist, that dynamic becomes a vortex of its own. Image matters, it’s a critical part of how your work is perceived, but not a fake image. People can smell that kind of performance a mile away.
The hard truth is, being real also exposes your flaws. And the moment those are visible, someone will try to exploit them. There’s a bullying energy that exists online — subtle sometimes, savage other times — and it makes creators cautious. So we adapt. We become hybrids of authenticity and armor.
I’m genuine in what I show the world, but it’s only a fraction of who I am. The rest lives behind the curtain where the sparks fly, the metal bends, and the truth doesn’t need filters.
Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. What do you think people will most misunderstand about your legacy?
That I was just an artist trying to make a living.
My legacy isn’t about selling art, it’s about what the art stands for. Everything I build comes from something that’s already lived a full life: scrap, salvage, forgotten metal, discarded potential. I don’t see waste, I see raw material waiting for another purpose. I rescue and repurpose what the world overlooks, and in that process, I turn it into something that gives off new energy. Positive energy.
It’s not about filling space, it’s about transforming it. I want what I make to be useful, not just decorative. To last. To remind people that ingenuity creates longevity, that creativity and sustainability can coexist beautifully.
If there’s one thing I hope people remember, it’s that I tried to leave more than I took. That every spark, every weld, every creation was an act of giving life back to something that had already been written off.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.colonialmetalworks.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hale8ious
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/hale2/
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@ColonialMetalworks
Image Credits
Jack Roman
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