Meet Lewis Mallard, Montreal's psychedelic folk artist

This story originally appeared in URBANIA, an online magazine based in Quebec focused on pop culture and society.

"At first, I was vulnerable, full of adrenaline. But I kept telling myself, 'If my failure is spectacular, at least it will be spectacular!'" the artist says, taking a sip of coffee on Parc Avenue.

Maybe you've already caught a glimpse of him in the streets of Montreal. As for me, it happened just last week, on an otherwise ordinary afternoon on Mont-Royal Avenue: a giant mallard duck, about seven feet tall, was calmly strolling among the pedestrians, leaving behind a trail of bewildered faces and silent WTFs.

Already a cult figure in Toronto and Hamilton, the larger-than-life Lewis Mallard seems to have found a new home in the streets of Montreal, where he wanders wrapped in an aura of mystery.

Meet the artist who’s reinventing the art of making people dream—and adding a little magic to everyday life.

"A more playful world, if only for a brief moment," says Lewis, summing up his approach.

"I love sparking surprise, a little confusion, and showing that life can be a bit stranger than we think."

The moment he steps out of his Mile End home—where he just moved in with his partner, who recently signed with the Opéra de Montréal—heads turn, amused. Many people congratulate him, burst out laughing, and most pull out their phones. "That media interaction with the public, that kind of virality, it's part of the project. I've always struggled to put my art out there, but now I exist through other people's social media," he explains.

He hands out business cards to those who stop him. On his website, you’ll find merch: caps, t-shirts, tote bags. For now, it’s his main source of income.

During our walk, daycare kids are just as amazed as the construction workers. Cars honk, some passersby get startled, while others remain completely unfazed, as if his presence were the most natural thing in the world.

He goes out about twice a week, depending on the weather. Most of his walks last around two hours, covering a few kilometers through Montreal’s central neighborhoods. "I walk until I have to pee," he quips through his papier-mâché costume.

But how does one become a duck?

"It all started in a park in 2018, under the influence of mushrooms," Lewis says with a smile. "I was trying to reconnect with art. When I saw a duck, a question crossed my mind: 'But who is he really?' That’s how Lewis Mallard was born."

Because, of course, Lewis Mallard isn’t his real name.

Without really planning it, his path inevitably led him to create his now-famous duck costume. After studying illustration in Oakville, he co-founded a visual arts collective in Toronto, which enjoyed lasting success for about fifteen years. Their studio, once located at 888 Dupont—one of the city’s last strongholds of the local art scene—has since been torn down to make way for condos, a somber reminder of the relentless and rapid development reshaping Ontario’s capital.

In his thirties, financial pressures pushed him away from art toward a more stable job. But after a divorce and a series of personal losses, he found himself at 40, single, lost, and depressed.

"I had become exactly what I never wanted to be," he admits candidly.

It was at this crossroads that Lewis Mallard was born, marking a true rebirth for the artist. Far from the technical, serious art he once practiced, this project allowed him to dive into lightness and strangeness. Naturally introverted, he abandoned the rigidity of the canvas in favour of a more folk and psychedelic approach, where street art meets performance.

The concept is as simple as it is unexpected: Lewis roams the streets, wearing orange Converse and matching leggings, hidden beneath a giant duck, communicating only through quacks. Mallard plays with absurdity and anonymity, creating a subtle distance between himself and his audience, while rekindling a sense of childlike wonder in those who cross his path.

"I never thought I could move people like this," he adds. "Seeing those smiles light up faces, bringing a bit of happiness into otherwise gray days — it’s a feeling I never expected."

On Saint-Viateur Street, we come across a group of South Korean tourists, visibly delighted at the chance to capture the winged hallucination. Lewis answers them with a quack from his duck call. The absurdity of the scene is pure delight.

"You never really know what's going to happen," he says as we resume walking, narrowly avoiding a traffic cone he hadn’t seen.

He admits, however, that he tends to avoid going out in bad weather and prefers to steer clear of the times when teenagers swarm the streets—just to avoid being mistaken for a piñata. He’s also wary of dogs.

“I’ve had my share of bad encounters that sometimes came close to aggression, but I always stay in character,” he says calmly. “I knew there would be idiots — it’s part of the game. But in Montreal, things go really well. People are very polite and curious. They get it.”

Lewis’s experience is filled with unexpected moments. He recalls, for instance, how his Hasidic neighbors completely ignore him when he’s in plain clothes—but everything changes the moment he puts on the costume: “The women stop to talk to me, the men nod hello.”

On Laurier street, a man suddenly starts chasing after us. He stops, out of breath, and invites us into his grocery store to help promote his social media. Lewis agrees. “If he’d been a real estate agent, I would’ve said no. But I’m always up for supporting a small local business.”

Lewis Mallard plans to keep wandering as long as the streets don’t get too slippery. “It’s an escape that feeds my soul,” he says, taking off his costume on his doorstep.

As for the future, the new Montrealer has no plans to slow down. He hopes to keep surprising people and spreading his gentle madness throughout the city. And who knows — you just might spot him in a neighborhood near you.

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