Hall of GraFX’s storefront is easy to miss. The business is only identified by the small logo tacked beside its double doors.
There’s an irony to this company, which produces bespoke graphic prints but hosts the most unassuming of exteriors.
On this Monday afternoon, founder Gary Wallace is the only person in the office. He’s dressed unassumingly too: a black T-shirt, green sweatpants and a Yankees cap.
“We’re not (wearing) suits and ties, like sales reps. Sales reps are scary people,” he later explains.
Wallace prides himself on being approachable and “cool.” His office is packed full of Star Wars funko pops — 96 and counting. He even owns a funko pop of himself, a gift from a former intern.
But ogle at his collection for too long, and you’ll miss the splay of award plaques hung modestly below his shelves. On most of them, “Hall of GraFX” is plated in gold.
The shop, founded in 2012, uses its vast arsenal of machines to print virtually anything.
“I have, probably, some of the biggest machines in the state,” Wallace says as he enters “the dance floor,” a room nicknamed for its impressive boast of printers.
To an untrained observer, the machines look more similar than not. But Wallace, who spent much of his career flying around the world to fix machines like these, distinguishes them with technical precision.
From Switzerland to India and Australia, Wallace spent most of his time traveling to keep machines like these alive. But it was in New Jersey where Wallace embarked on his most poignant journey.
In New Jersey, he saw a machine being stored “in a place that wasn’t really a print shop,” Wallace recounted. His client, on the brink of retirement, wanted the machines fixed so he could sell them. Struck by sudden inspiration, Wallace agreed to buy them.
“I always daydreamed of having my own place,” said Wallace. He had spent most of his career hopping between jobs, honing his design craft and repair skills while being limited by bureaucratic micromanagement.
“Talent should be doing his own thing,” Wallace continued. So the design-technician became CEO of his own company.
“There was no business plan, no bank loan … no nothing. Just, ‘Yeah, let’s do it,’” Wallace said. “And I know I’m pretty good at this stuff. I’ve been doing this for the biggest companies in Manhattan, been doing it around the world.”
Hall of GraFX has become a Providence staple, printing and designing materials for some of the most famous local events like PVDFest, Waterfire and the Dominican Festival. According to its website, the shop also has working relationships with various political campaigns, the Providence Place Mall and the cities of Providence and Central Fall.
The company also makes prints for non-profits, usually at a discounted rate. “Most of these companies can’t really afford much,” said Wallace, echoing similar sentiments in his previous collaboration with The Womxn Project Education Fund, The Herald previously reported.
Wallace’s generosity is founded on more than just charity. “I help out other companies (and) they keep coming back,” Wallace said. Word of mouth, especially through social media, has been formative to Hall of GraFX’s momentum.
Unlike his first digital printing job in Manhattan, which catered towards brand names, Hall of GraFX mostly retains a grounded target audience. And unlike other local printing studios, Hall of GraFX boasts machinery capable of large-scale printing without hefty variable costs. Wallace doesn’t need to hire service technicians, for example, when he can fix machines himself. The office’s unassuming location is also part of this business model — Hall of GraFX enjoys cheaper rent, and their customers enjoy cheaper prices.
“If you can last five years, they say your business is going to work,” Wallace continued. Hall of GraFX is still standing, twelve years into its operations.
“I’ve seen things I liked, seen things I didn’t like,” said Wallace. He rattles — often in sports metaphors — about business philosophies he’s adopted over time. He tries to make “one base hit a day” and compares great business mentors to famous gymnasts like Gabby Douglas.
But Wallace most passionately spoke of the athlete Raygun, an Australian breakdancer who went viral for her performance at the 2024 Olympics.
“I clapped for her while everybody (booed) her,” he said. “She wasn't great. Everybody knows it, but she had the guts to go on stage in front of the whole world and perform, (and) now, she’s more famous than anyone else.”
It’s not difficult to understand why Wallace resonates so deeply with Raygun. As a fellow artist, Wallace understands the frustration of criticism. But he also understands the unexpected rewards that come with offering opportunities to the unassuming.
“She wins,” Wallace says, describing Raygun. He might as well be talking about himself.
Megan is a Senior Staff Writer covering community and activism in Providence. Born and raised in Hong Kong, she spends her free time drinking coffee and wishing she was Meg Ryan in a Nora Ephron movie.
