Pinstripe Artist, Rich Luna

Rich Rich Rich

Soul on, Ego off

Written by Esther Young Photography by Peter Salcido

Tough guys with the pompadours; rockabilly bands with the upright bass and old microphones; Rat Fink on a hot rod; cruises and the exhaust from carbureted engines. These enduring symbols of Kustom Kulture are just a few of the sensory landmarks that lured Rich Luna into becoming the in-demand pinstriper he is today. Owner of Lunatic Customs, Rich Luna, who goes by Luna—the name tattooed across his knuckles—has applied his flowing linework, gold leafing, and lettering to every type of customizable piece. He has hand-painted a vast lineup of bikes and automobiles, as well as the unexpected piece of living room furniture or musician’s toy.

In every Lunatic Customs project, it’s less about showmanship, and more about enhancing the customer’s piece. From the color to the line weight, the customization must complement. The minute work begins, “Soul on, check your ego at the door.”

This motto has guided Luna through the 15-plus years since he picked up his first pinstripe brush. It was a 00 Xcaliber that he bought off an independent tool truck. Riding motorcycles at the time, he was fascinated by the artwork on the gas tanks. “I kept telling myself I could do that...it looked easy, right? Man, was I wrong!”

The journey required patience. In those early days, he picked up his brush and pinstriped everything in sight—his kids’ toys, furniture, personal items, people (with their enthusiastic consent), custom cars, bikes, and helmets. From the start he focused on growth, telling himself, “The cup is always half full; there’s always more to learn.”

But in Luna’s room sits a wooden pinstriping toolkit he’ll never use. Decked out with Ed “Big Daddy” Roth-style monster art and clean linework, that’s the toolkit that belonged to his dad, Ed Luna, who passed it to him as a keepsake a few Christmases ago.

Luna credits his dad with putting him on to pinstriping. By day, Ed worked as an illustrator for a defense company, designing tanks and logos. On his work desk sat a Rolodex, a pencil, and some paper. Everything was hands-on, and Luna took the chance to learn from his dad, who pinstriped on the side—also working on anything he could get his hands on, doing commissions from time to time (which included striping for the East Palo Alto–founded Soul Brothers motorcycle club).

“Mijo, just take your lines and make ’em flow this way; don’t

“When you put your soul into it, your emotions, your mind—that’s when your best art comes out.”

–Rich Luna

make them go up-down-up-down,” Luna recalls him instructing. Orienting his finger and wrist to control the brush, and executing a clean pull, took time.

For Luna to take the hobby into business, however, it took the passion he arrived with as well as a push from life. From the beginning, it was the greasers lifestyle and the old school Rat Fink attitude for him. “All in your face and nothin’ nice about it,” he grins. “I wanted to go there like a moth to the flame.” He set up his pinstriping booth at every car show, up the West Coast and over on the East Coast. He got into car clubs and was even approached by James Hetfield from Metallica, who was part of the Beatniks of Koolsville. When he was let go from the dealership he previously worked for, Luna already had a base of clientele. As he worked his way up to pinstriping cars, commissions began to snowball, until he had to book people weeks out.

Though he doesn’t verbalize it, his collaborative approach may be one of the magic ingredients that keeps the customers coming. Born and raised in San Jose, his sociable personality frequently unearths mutual connections between him and a new client.

Across a picnic table, he shares, “I just did a lowrider and this guy, Anthony, he’s like, ‘My cousin in Style Kings…’ I’m like, ‘My gosh dude I used to belong to the Style Kings. I know your cousin Sal.’ ‘Oh then you know Randy...you know Matty…’ ‘Dude! Oh my god, Órale dude, what’s going on!’ ”

As friendly as he is, his business side is serious. “You have to be upfront and honest,” he says. “Name your terms, name your price, and stand by it.” Occasionally, admirers of his work try to pay him in alternative methods. “I don’t work for beer,” he clarifies. “We can do cash, PayPal, Venmo, what you need—I do this for a living.” Like with any full-time job, he commits to his own hours. Nine to six, you’ll find him in his garage with music on and distractions off. He takes a break when his fingers are numb.

“I try to tell myself, ‘Just have fun, man.’ Because it was a hobby, now it’s a business, but I should still have fun with it. When you put your soul into it, your emotions, your mind—that’s when your best art comes out.”

On the weekends, you might spot him out with his buddies or his girlfriend on their stretch cruiser bikes, pedaling to the music, present to the moment. “Enjoy that moment when you have it. That’s what I believe.” C