Adam Copeland has spent decades telling stories with his body. From ladder matches that felt like violent abstract expressionism to promos sculpted with timing and restraint, the WWE-turned-AEW star (aka Edge and Cope) has always operated like an artist hiding in plain sight. Wrestling fans know him for championships, reinventions, and longevity. Fewer know that behind the scenes, Copeland’s life has always revolved around drawing, painting, designing, and creating for the sheer joy of it. Strip away the pyro and the arenas, and art remains the throughline connecting every chapter of his career, from wrestling and acting to entrepreneurship and fatherhood.
Long before he learned how to work a crowd, Copeland learned how to work a pencil. His relationship with art wasn’t something he discovered later in life or adopted as a hobby once fame afforded him the time. It was always there, baked into who he was before anyone knew his name. “From the time I can fully remember I’ve been drawing. It started with dinosaurs. Lots of T Rex for a while. Then I moved onto drawing hockey goaltenders. Ken Dryden was a favorite to capture. Then I discovered KISS which was a natural segue way into super heroes. Eventually I designed and drew every set of tights and trench coat I’ve ever worn in my wrestling career. I’m heavily involved in t-shirt concepts. I decorated our house. I love designing.” That quote reads less like an origin story and more like a mission statement. Creation wasn’t a phase. It was a constant.
That creative instinct is visible in how Copeland has always approached wrestling. Characters evolved visually as much as they did psychologically. Gear wasn’t just attire; it was part of the narrative language. Colors, silhouettes, and textures told stories before he ever stepped through the curtain. Wrestling, for him, became another canvas, one that moved and collided and reacted in real time. It’s no accident that his career is remembered as much for its imagery as its matches. The art was never separate from the performance.
When Copeland talks about what fuels his visual work, the answer feels both simple and revealing. “[The] biggest influence on my art is probably pop culture. I love bold lines. Sharp lines. Bright colors. Different textures. I painted Ric Flair a pop portrait for his 70th birthday. I used boas, Swarovski crystal, stencils, and spray paint. Lots of different elements but it’s all meant to be fun to look at.” Fun is the operative word. There’s no pretension in how he describes his process. It’s playful, experimental, tactile. He gravitates toward materials that clash and pop, toward images that invite the viewer in rather than keep them at arm’s length. The goal isn’t to impress; it’s to engage.
That same creative mindset carried over when Copeland stepped into a completely different arena: business. As a co-founder of
Pure Plank, a fitness product designed to make core training more accessible and engaging, he didn’t approach the idea like a traditional entrepreneur. He approached it like an artist with a sketchpad. “When I first put sharpie to paper there was no thought of what was actually feasible. So it morphed, streamlined, once we got to the actual development stage.” The origin story matters because it reinforces a pattern. Ideas begin freely, without constraints. Practicality comes later. The napkin sketch wasn’t a flaw; it was the point. Creation first, refinement second.
Pure Plank also reflects Copeland’s belief that art doesn’t have to live on a wall to matter. Design, in his world, is about problem-solving and connection. The product was born out of a desire to help people move, stay healthy, and feel capable, especially parents trying to keep up with their kids. That purpose ties directly into his personal life, where creativity isn’t a solitary act but a shared experience. “I have two daughters and they LIVE and LOVE to create. They’re constantly trying new things and we craft together all the time. It’s definitely one of the areas we bond.” Art, here, becomes a language of family. It’s how time is spent, how memories are made, how curiosity is encouraged.
Despite his skill and history, Copeland has no interest in positioning himself as a gallery artist or chasing validation in traditional art spaces. When asked about future exhibitions, his response is immediate and honest. “Ah no galleries for this guy. My art is purely for my own enjoyment and if anyone else happens to see it? Cool. Now painting on a Pure Plank is a FUN idea I may have to explore!” The excitement isn’t about recognition; it’s about possibility. A fitness board as a canvas makes sense to him because boundaries between disciplines have never really existed in his mind. Art can live anywhere.
That attitude explains why Copeland’s legacy, when viewed through an artistic lens, feels unusually grounded. He doesn’t talk about permanence or impact in grand terms. He talks about process, curiosity, and joy. “Art is in the eye of the beholder. That being said I guess my answer would be, I don’t care if it's remembered. It’s more about the fun of discovery for me. I don’t place anything on it. It’s purely for joy.” In an industry obsessed with legacy, that perspective is quietly radical.
Adam’s story isn’t just about a wrestler who can draw or a businessman with a creative streak. It’s about someone who never stopped seeing the world as something to be shaped, colored, and reimagined. Whether he’s leaping off ladders, sketching on a napkin, or crafting with his daughters, the same impulse drives him forward. Art isn’t what he does on the side. It’s how he lives.
