"Football is a classic sport, and the portrait is a classic art form": Benjamin Abana on painting the People's Puskás winner

When Billy Tabb's bicycle kick won the People's Puskás 2025, it earned him a prize unlike any other: a hand-painted portrait by Danish-Nigerian artist Benjamin Abana, named Denmark's best portrait painter in 2019 and the man behind a recent portrait of the Danish king.

Working only from photographs of a player he'd never met, Abana set out to capture not just Tabb's likeness but the moment itself. We spoke to him about the commission, his craft, and why a grassroots goal deserves a place on the wall.

Can you start by introducing yourself?

My name is Benjamin Abana, and I'm a fine artist. I paint portraits, and I have done so for more than 15 years. Other genres have pulled at me along the way, but I always return to the portrait. There's something about the human being I can't shake. I'm half Danish and half Nigerian myself, and that duality runs through my work: the question of who you are when you belong to two places at once.

How would you describe your technique?

I stand on a classical foundation, but I push it in a more abstract direction because that interests me more. I work with spatulas and palette knives rather than the brush alone. It has to be realistic without being approached realistically – broad, rough strokes that fall into place from a distance. Put simply, it's a blend of traditional portraiture and street art: strong, clear colours held in balance by high contrast.

What are some of your highlights?

The turning point came in 2019, when I was named Denmark's best portrait painter. Since then, it's been one commission and exhibition after another. The biggest portrait so far was of the Danish king – not a job you turn down.

What did the commission involve?

Veo asked whether I'd paint the winner's prize for the People's Puskás: a portrait of Billy Tabb, who won in 2025. It was a long way from my usual work, but a portrait is a portrait. I've never met Billy, so I painted from photographs. I was told he was a little shy and taken aback by all the attention, and I had to bring that into the picture. What I was after was capturing both at once: the shyness, but also the pride – it lives in the eyes and in that slight smile.

Why is a portrait the right prize?

Because the goal was extraordinary, the prize deserves to be too. In Denmark, it's rare for an ordinary player to get their own portrait – it almost belongs to another era. But that's precisely the point: when you do something out of the ordinary, an unusual prize fits perfectly. And there's something beautiful in the meeting of the two. Football is a classic sport, and the portrait is a classic art form. Letting them meet feels exactly right.

Did you try to capture the feeling of the goal?

Yes. I watched the video of his bicycle kick again and again and tried to put myself in his place – that feeling that hits when you pull off something great. That's the feeling I paint with. I don't just render what Billy looks like, but how he felt in that exact moment. A portrait should be honest, not flattering. If he's shy, the shyness has to be there. And the pride has to sit right beside it. He strikes me as someone who'd rather not be the centre of attention – but he did something that deserves to be celebrated.

How do you hope he reacts when he receives it?

That he's happy with it. That he hangs it up at home, where he can see it every day and remember what he did. And if he ever comes to Denmark, I'd love to shake his hand and congratulate him in person.

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