Melbourne Monthly Madness – August 2013

Sorry this post is so late. I’ve had an injured hand, so typing has been a pain, literally… Here’s my round up for August. I’m calling this month the Video Edition, cos I don’t think I can recall a month where so many awesome videos came out… Here we go…

To start off check out this great video from Jack Douglas. Jack is a talented Melbourne street artist and tattooist; this video shows some of his street and tattoo work. His characters are always awesome.

Another rad video featuring local writer BOLTS smashing some walls across Melbourne with his always super tight style.

Do you know what a “bogan” is? It’s an Australian colloquialism, this video from Melbourne writer AEON (created alongside VNA magazine) gives you a perfect explanation of the Aussie Bogan, lost in London.

LINZ from Queensland visited Melbourne and painted this great piece. LINZ also talks about his time as a writer and how things have changed so much over the years.

This video from Spacerunner is definitely my favourite video for the month. SIMR and Rides showing us how it’s done painting one of Melbourne’s trains in the dark of the night.

Check out this video featuring interviews with Rone, Sandra Powell and Andrew King discussing their views on street art in galleries and the streets and the general attitude towards the art recently in Melbourne.

Rone was in Portland Oregon recently for Forrest for the Trees festival.

A new video from LUSH.

And finally Reka painted this epic 8 story wall in Copenhagen.

Continue reading “Melbourne Monthly Madness – August 2013”

Tim Hans shoots… Carlos Mare

Mare139_TimHans_03

Carlos Mare aka Mare139 is one of hip hop’s living legends, and one of the pioneers when it comes to adapting what he learned in graffiti to settings other than walls and subway cars. Indoors, he is probably best-known for his sculptures, but of Mare’s recent work involves painting Bboys in action. This past spring, Tim Hans met Mare at his studio for the latest in our continuing series of photo-portraits of artists by Tim. I asked Mare a few questions over email.

RJ: Do you see yourself as bridging a divide between hip hop and other art movements with your artwork, or do you see art movements all as one thing?

Carlos Mare: I believe, though unintentional my works and words act as a bridge between histories and culture. Art movements are isolated events that are time and location specific, ultimately the ideas and aesthetics of that culture disseminate. Hip Hop was a great catalyst for global impact, it used to be very provincial in NYC during its hey day but once it breached local geography it was adopted and readapted by the world. This forced the hand of us pioneers to rethink it, I just happened to think of it in Modernist terms after I saw the 1980 Picasso retrospective at MoMa.

RJ: What have you done in your role as a cultural ambassador for the USA?

Carlos Mare: My role is not unlike any other traveling artist of the culture, we have been doing ambassadorships since day one. My role in part is supported by the State Dept., which does so for many American artists. I just happen to be an ‘Urban’ voice of the generation. Being able to have these opportunities allows me to speak in rooms with high level officials, artists and art advocates about the benefits and challenges of today’s urban artists. One of the most important things about traveling and speaking is that you get to educate others about the past and present contributions of the culture. This discourse is crucial and often overlooked in the relationship between governments and artists which is at best a side eyed acknowledgement.

Promoting American urban culture is much easier abroad then it is at home just so you know, in the US we have a tendency to marginalize the people of color who innovate culture until it is adapted by the mainstream. On the other hand the world youth took us on as their own and flipped the script by recognizing us as an artistic movement they too could embrace. Once it went pandemic it became hard to deny so it had to be in the best interests of Governments, Institutions and artists to bridge the gap in order to create more opportunities for personal and community change.

Mare139_TimHans_05

RJ: What do arrows mean to you?

Carlos Mare: Not much anymore actually. When I was more into Style Writing it had different meanings such as the direction in which the the construct of the letter would flow or to camouflage my name, perhaps use it as a weapon as my good friend Rammellzee used to imply. I learned that the greatest of Style Writers could do without it and can create sophisticated graffiti without it. At the end of the day it’s just another graphic element in the graphic design of graffiti.

RJ: Your Bboy pieces seem to capture so much energy and movement even while they are based on stick figures. Even moreso than many photographs. How do you go about capturing that movement in a static 2-dimensional image?

Carlos Mare: The Bboy works are not based on stick figures at all but rather geometry and movement. The line work implies the skeletal framework of the body and to a degree yes the stick figure is an easy analogy but it’s been so refined and so thought out that these shapes even in their simplest forms capture a reduced impression of the body, a familiarity that both Bboys and writers can identify with. It’s coded language, it’s rhythm, wild style and modernism all in one. One of the best interpretations came from my show in Berlin at Skalitzers Gallery when Robert Smith observed:

“Carlos Mare’s Bboy drawings and paintings, so refined and visually direct, become coded representations of the dancer’s repertoire of movements and poses. In much the same way that staffed symbols are used to represent the written form of musical notation, so too the simple, gestural icons come to express a visual codification, a defined scale of available movements.”

I had never considered an analogy like this even though it was already baked into the work, this observation was spot on and opened up a whole other dimension into my thought process. These works are in large part about physical intentions, what is implied by gesture and movement, so much of the genius of the dance is nuanced and can be found in the in between spaces of the action, a dancer begins at A and goes through his whole vocabulary to get to Z. What I am interested in is what happens in between and how to capture that. It’s a Futurist concept with a dope backbeat.

Mare139_TimHans_06

RJ: What’s next for you?

Carlos Mare: I am always stretching the boundaries in my works, I’m challenged by my own works and see my work changing radically in the coming year. I will continue painting the Bboy works which are more and more amazing and will turn these ideas into sculpture as well. That series will likely come to an end but not before I do a series with Ken Swift, this will be the pinnacle of this exploration I think, I could be wrong but I’ve been at it for many many years and feel I can bookend it with the legendary master as my subject.

As for sculpture, I haven’t begun to scratch the surface. I have lots of new works coming and older works that need closure before I move into the next phase of sculpting. It’s unfortunate that sculpture is not in the urban contemporary art conversation right now, painting is getting way too much light since it is easier to do and live with. I hope to change this with new public works that are larger, smarter and more ambitious.

Currently I am consulting with the Lemelson Center/Smithsonian Institute with an upcoming exhibition on Hip Hop culture which will highlight the Turntable as an American Innovation. Beyond that I can’t speak about what I have planned as it is probably the most ambitious and important work of my career.

“Don’t be an outsider looking in, be the Outsider they look into.” – Carlos Mare

Photos by Tim Hans

Best of Woodstock, as photographed by Jared Aufrichtig

DALeast
DALeast

A note from the editor: Today we have a guest post from Jared Aufrichtig, an artist who has been taking some really interesting photos of street art Woodstock, a suburb of Cape Town, South Africa. His book about South African youth culture launches this week at Kalashnikovv Gallery in Johannesburg, South Africa. I love Jared’s willingness to make these photographs his own, rather than just documenting the art straight-up. There’s a place for that traditional documentation, but these photos are great examples of how people can use the gifts that street artists give to the public and make their own art out of them. Jared’s photos here feature work by DALeast, Cern, Faith47, Gaia, Jace, Jaz, Know Hope, Louis Masai Michel, Freddy Sam, Paul Senyol, Mak1one, Pastel Heart, Jared Aufrichtig, Kasi, ?All and Makatron. – RJ Rushmore

These images were taken over the past 6 months while I got to know the Woodstock Community and explored the explosion of new work by local and international artists. During my many visits I was welcomed by the kind majority-Muslim community, they commissioned me to do work for them and I shared many fond experiences (except for when my original custom made RETNA Art iPhone grew legs while painting a mural). I was able to freely document their lives and unique area; I even shot portraits of a small child that ended up being used for a piece I had done by my friend from Durban Pastel.

Over the past few years the level of work and roster of international artist has risen dramatically. Woodstock will soon become Cape Towns ONLY area filled with creative public expression. I believe in and support the beautification of urban areas like this and others around the world.

Know Hope
Know Hope
Cern
Cern
Faith47
Faith47
Gaia
Gaia

Continue reading “Best of Woodstock, as photographed by Jared Aufrichtig”

Questioning ekg

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Editor’s note: Today we have a guest post from Yoav Litvin, a photographer and documenter of street art and graffiti in NYC. I’m really excited for Yoav’s upcoming book which profiles 46 of New York City’s most prolific street artists. In the mean time, for more on Yoav you can follow him on Instagram or check out these interviews. – RJ Rushmore

Knowingly, but most likely unknowingly, ekg is a part of every New Yorker’s life. ekg’s iconic orange symbol can be found on any surface in almost any neighborhood throughout the boroughs. ekg recently presented alongside Rubin, Hellbent, See One and Col at “Spectrum: Abstraction Through Aerosol”, a group show at Gallery Brooklyn curated by Royce Bannon. Luckily, I was able to catch up with ekg and ask some questions.

Yoav: What does the EKG symbol mean to you?

ekg: it is an illegal aesthetic manifestation first and foremost, but also contains other layers as a poetic symbol packed with a plurality of meanings: manifestations, transmissions, heartbeats, apparitions, illuminations, emanations, palpitations, resonance, signals, chimeras, missives, wraiths, pulses, blips…

i actually started doing it on the street before i was sure what to call it. at first i was thinking about it as a metaphor for visual communication on the streets, about the idea of a signal, a communicative mark, a transmission, a blip on The System’s radar, embedding Coordinates of Dissension in the matrix, occupying mental and physical space, connecting people and creating community on an alternative anti-status quo wavelength of rebellion and revolution. but when a friend hash tagged it “ekg” on her feed, it struck me that it gave the symbol another layer of meaning that was more personal and emotional. something people could connect to because it’s just a simple sign spread across the city becoming in essence a vast visual representation of the heartbeat of the city, a voice of the people, a pulse of the populace.

the following paragraph is the most precise statement i have crafted so far about illegal public marks, so i want to throw it in here. it is the intro to an essay that was published on graffuturism.com:

illegal aesthetic manifestations create connection, communication and community as they splice, transmit and mutate through the aetherial circulatory system ad infinitum. go all-city, all-universe, all-time-and-space. bomb the semiotosphere! revel in the power of the tag, the human mark, the identity avatar, the monitored action, the new millennium painterly gesture. david flinging pebbles at goliath.

it’s important to have rebellious signs present in the semiotosphere for the future of our urban environments, otherwise everything is perceived as under control, free of dissent, sedated. quantity and dispersion are crucial for the power of a tag, so I’m just constantly walking for days at a time. at one point, i started feeling like johnny appleseed sprinkling tags all over the place like seeds, hoping they take root and grow (attract other tags) not only in their physical spots but also in the consciousness of those that see them. tags are small but powerful in quantity. so if people actually notice, they start wondering what it means. especially if it’s just a simple symbol, it retains some mystery. what does it mean? why is it so important to this person to do all this work to make a public visual statement with it? any illegal public mark is an anti-status quo irruption, which is always appreciated, but if you do it enough, it can become an insurrection. One symbol can become an army. One word a manifesto.

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Yoav: When, where and why did you start getting up?

ekg: i grew up in nyc surrounded by graff. i tagged in high school like any other rebellious artist kid just for fun and attention. but i wasn’t really cut out for it at that time due to being a somewhat reclusive introverted anxious paranoid high-strung personality type. but after gaining more life experience, becoming more comfortable in the world, and exploring some other forms of art, i returned to it in 2003 after i watched the twentieth anniversary release of Style Wars. seeing all the interviews with my heroes all grown up and just living their lives, took some of the mythological gauze off my eyes, and i realized that i could do it too at this point. this time i’ve become obsessed and driven by the movement becoming committed to it as the most powerful means of expression at the turn of the twenty-first century.

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Yoav: How does your work interact with the diverse setting that is New York City? How does it feel tagging in other locales?

ekg: for me, going all-city is a crucial aesthetic element of being a graffiti writer or street artist. if someone sees your tag in every neighborhood, the geographic expansiveness creates a sense of omnipresence that is crucial to the power of the mark. going all-city could also be read as making the statement that you are all inclusive, not just trying to reach one kind of person or audience. going to different neighborhoods and cities is also just part of the fun. surfaces can be very different from neighborhood to neighborhood, city to city. since i don’t do any kind of public speaking or interviews, i feel like it’s one of my ways of connecting and communicating. although, i have also gotten pretty obsessed with instagram lately too lol.

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Yoav: Your tag is all over! How do you decide where to tag?

ekg: placement is crucial. because the pulse is so simple, an important part of the aesthetic is to paint it somewhere so it fits with the spot. i started out doing the pulse very low at first just because those spots are always free. but the more I did them the more i liked the placement as a metaphor for “downlow” or “underground,” which is what i consider this whole movement to be about: an anti-status quo collective of individuals who en masse speak for the alternative-minded citizens of a city. also another important aesthetic element is that the transmission lines which extend out on the left and right of the pulse imply continuation ad infinitum, hopefully giving the impression that they all connect together across the urban environment.

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Yoav: What inspires you?

ekg: friends, family, graffiti, street art, heavy metal, punk, science, semiotics, philosophy, sit-coms, sci-fi, technical manuals, text books, laboratory experiments, comic books, abstract expressionism, experimental writing, visual poetry, clean simple foods, swimming. also see my fav artist list below.

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Yoav: How does it feel to present your work in a gallery? What were some of the challenges you faced? Any thoughts about the movement of street art and graffiti into galleries?

ekg: street has become the heart and pulse of what I do. when looked at from that vantage point, the gallery becomes merely a place for embellishment. but a gallery does offer a different kind of space for reflection and depth if used to it’s advantages. otherwise, it just becomes a store to sell product, which is important too for making a living, but a gallery can be so much more, an experience, a library, a museum. as i refine theoretical ideas about key causes, impetuses and effects of graffiti and street art, i am starting to think about different ways to apply the ideas to a gallery exhibition, rather than just hanging paintings. what are the algorithms behind the creation of graffiti? what are the core truths within the machinations of art placed on the street? how they can they be expressed in a white box environment?

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Yoav: Any thoughts about the graffiti/street art divide?

ekg: in every community there are sub-cultures of like-minds that band together over ideals, protocols and procedures. in the late sixties, “graffiti” kicked it all off; in the late seventies, “street art” tried to be all inclusive. but for a lot of writers it was seen as gentrification and piggybacking, so for many people the two remain exclusive. yet there are more and more crossover artists and hybridizations as time goes on. i don’t do letterforms and have no style, so that falls into the street art category. but then i mainly operate like a graffiti writer because i like to tag and spray paint more than do wheat paste or stickers. maybe there will be another term someday that can sum up the whole movement while leaving the subcultures in tact and unoffended.

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Yoav: Do you have a formal art education?

ekg: i was a terrible high school student. always distracted, drawing, and running around the city or just depressed and hiding out. but then did well in college. i first studied writing and literature, then painting and cartooning. i have taken a random class here and there after college, but tend to challenge myself a lot anyway without the need for outside impetus. silly things like setting a 2-hour time limit to read gary panter’s jimbo in purgatory a second time. but also just in my own expectations in terms of the depth and originality i would like to achieve in my body of work over the years. i probably would’ve loved to be a teacher of some sort, but due to pathological stage fright, i just didn’t see it as an option. unless i wanted to feel like i was being ambushed and tortured everyday.

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Yoav: Any favorite artists?

ekg: futura, rammellzee, phase2, ee cummings, aesop rock, david lynch, gary panter, mark beyer, arshile gorky, matta, de kooning, basquiat, joel-peter witkin, jean baudrillard, tony oursler, harmony korine, harvey kurtzman, art spiegelman, david foster wallace, howard finster, melvin milky way, adolf wolfli, 907 crew, matt siren, cash4, aa crew, krt crew, ngc crew, lava 1&2, amrl, lsd-om, riff170, comet, blade, rime, os gemeos, faust, raven, sonik, freedom, zephyr, ket, ghost, noxer, espo, twist, reas, neckface, smart crew, btm crew, dick mama, choice royce, el celso, abe lincoln jr, skewville, overunder, michael alan alien, cosby, wisher, krasty, tonetank, poesia, mare139, part2, jurne, gorey, pal crew, sen4, zaone, hound, club clout, decoy, ur, stor, chef pants, atak, hert, snoeman, enrico letter, and so many more…

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Yoav: How do you see your role as a street artist within society?

ekg: basically, i just want to continue to consistently do work on the streets and spread the word. i’m just another responsible citizen performing my role and doing my duty. the transgression of illegal aesthetic manifestations is a kind of civil disobedience, not just a misdiagnosed adolescent megalomania. we all don’t communicate in the same ways from individual to individual, but also from generation to generation. obviously this is the way we are wired in this day and age, or else it wouldn’t be the biggest movement at the turn of the new millennium.

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Photos by Yoav Litvin

Adrian Doyle paints a Melbourne street art hotspot completely blue

Adrian Doyle in the new Blue Rutledge Lane - Photo by Adrian Lagniton.
Adrian Doyle in the new Blue Rutledge Lane. Photo by Adrian Lagniton.

A couple of weekends ago on Sunday the 25th of August, I started walking down Hosier Lane, which I do at least 5 times a week, but this time I noticed something very strange. Rutledge Lane (located parallel to Hosier Lane – one of Melbourne’s most well known street art and graffiti locations) was completely fenced off and there were trucks and equipment. When I made it down to the other end, an even more surprising site met me.

It was Adrian Doyle (who I’ll tell you a bit more about later) in a full white body suit, spray gun in hand, starting to paint Rutledge Lane completely BLUE. An eery light blue glow came all the way to the edge of the lane with a distinct sharp blue line all the way to the edge of Hosier. What followed has been the talk of the Melbourne street art and graffiti community, and whilst it has calmed down now, or has even been forgotten, it definitely created quite a stir.

The ‘installation/artwork/buff?’ was not only the talk of the local street art and graffiti community, it also attracted much media attention on radio, TV and in newspapers due to the infamous nature of the lane way.

The Lane being painted - Photo by David Russell
The Lane being painted. Photo by David Russell.
The Lane being painted - Photo by David Russell
The Lane being painted. Photo by David Russell.

Adrian continued down the entire laneway and proceeded to buff everything in sight, and I mean everything, every bin, every spec of rubbish laying around, everything. Top to bottom, even the road. Scissor lifts and spray guns were his tools of choice to get as much paint up as high as he could.

Rutledge Lane - GIF by Khoon Sorasiri
Rutledge Lane. GIF by Khoon Sorasiri.

Later that day Invurt posted an article on the project, which contained Doyle’s explanation behind the project, taken from his Facebook page:

Today piece was not a buff….. it was a burner.. Hell yeaH…

Houses are a major influence on my aesthetics and imagery. Most of the important events in my early life were focused around our quarter acre block in the heart of suburbia. We had an outback toilet, complete with its own dunny man that came every week to change the bucket. We went through numerous above ground pools and sadly, many pets. My house was not really different than any other suburban house. Yet it was my world for many years, a curated world, in which I learnt social skills and perceived normality from my parents.

I watched from a very young age as my parents struggled with house payments and debt collectors. They worked so hard to pay the bills and bring up 5 kids. They worked in jobs they hated with little respect from their bosses. They married in their teens, and did all the expected norms and learnt behaviour passed down from their parents. The house was a symbol of their hard work.

This experience made me reflect on my childhood home, and the hold it had over me, my family and my art. When my parents eventually lost the house to the bank, my parents moved four hours away to a small cottage in East Gippsland. But the grief and pain followed them. I began to play with the idea of creating a colour that represents my childhood and my suburban experiences. Was it possible to create a colour that could capture that kind of experience?

So I decided to come up with my own colour. I named it: Empty-Nursery Blue

The way I decided to create Empty-Nursery Blue was by sitting in the studio and creating hundreds of different blues until I found the one that expressed my experiences the most. It was a baby blue that had hints of mauve in it. It’s a beautiful colour, a bright pastel. This colour expresses the feeling that something has been disturbed. All is not quite right. I took my disturbing yet beautiful colour to a paint lab and worked out its recipe.

But what good was Empty-Nursery Blue, if it was without a context. I needed to find something to paint to physicalise the concept of the colour.

As mentioned above, after losing their house, my parents moved to an island in the Gippsland Lakes. It’s a significant removal from the realities of suburban Frankston. Their house is alone in the landscape, only bushes and trees to keep it company. Not even a bridge links the island to the nearest shop. This physical removal from the past does not automatically come with emotional removal.

This is why I decided to paint my parents’ new house Empty-Nursery Blue.

Empty-Nursery Blue once placed in context became a symbol of a collective past. Surrounding the new house with the memory and emotions of an experience that ruptured my family’s suburban dream.

In recent years I have spent much of my time lost deep in the Melbourne Street Art world. Street art has become a major part of my life and the lane-ways have become my world. I have lived and breathed art all my life. My art, however, is conceived of and formed from my past experiences. I cannot exist today without recognizing my roots in the past.

Thus, I would like to incorporate my past and my present in a Street Art piece using the colour Empty-Nursery Blue, and only this colour. By using Empty-Nursery Blue to cover Hosier Lane, I am symbolically ‘coating’ my present with my past, it is reminder to me and anyone who is living, that you are a product of your former experiences, and you should be reminded of them as you work your way through your present and into your future. By doing this, I am claiming that a colour in its pure form can be street art or graffiti. This is a great conceptual link from fine art to street art, a link that is often lacking in the Melbourne Street Art scene. By bridging this gap, I hope to expose more people not only to Street Art, but also to the importance of art in general.

Doyle explains that his piece reflects the experiences of his childhood and his relationship with the suburban house, in particular the negative impact of his parents losing the house to the bank when he was young. “We’re all victims of suburbia” he said on a radio interview on 774. This all inspired him to create the “Empty Nursery Blue” colour.

Doyle claims the piece wasn’t a buff, but by nature it can’t really be called anything else. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t an interesting piece of art, although some argue it is not art, at all.

Doyle is no stranger to street art in Melbourne. He runs Blender Studios; Open since the birth of the circa 2000 street art explosion in Melbourne and home to so many of Melbourne’s best past and present street, contemporary and fine artists. Doyle also helps run the Signal Arts mentoring program which provides young kids paint and the opportunity to learn from some of Melbourne’s best street art and graffiti artists. He is a well known character in the closely connected Melbourne scene.

Does his intimate relationship with street art give him the right to paint an entire lane way blue though?

The Lane just before it was painted - Photo by David Russell
The Lane just before it was painted. Photo by David Russell.

For readers not familiar with them, let me tell you a little about Hosier and Rutledge Lanes. Hosier Lane is Melbourne’s most renowned street art location by far – I say renowned, not best; because there are MUCH better places for street art and graffiti in Melbourne. Just open any Lonely Planet or travel book about Melbourne and you’ll see that it is considered as a must see tourist attraction. On any given day of the week, hundreds and hundreds of people (from all walks of life, ages and parts of the world) visit Hosier and Rutledge Lanes to see what amazing artwork has been left for them to admire. The lanes are also one of the most popular places in the city for wedding photographs, which I personally think is extremely tacky, each to their own through.

Rutledge Lane before the buff - Photo by Dean Sunshine
Rutledge Lane before the Doyle’s project. Photo by Dean Sunshine.

Hosier and Rutledge Lanes are close to the middle of Melbourne (off to the side a little) and are apparently a legal painting precinct, which means anyone can paint there, any time.

For many years the laneways were cared for and curated by a guy called Andy Mac, who used to run Until Never Gallery on the corner of Hosier and Rutledge Lanes. This kept the level of quality artwork fresh and relevant and to some extent meant that the lanes had a caretaker of sorts.

Since Andy left, Rutledge Lane in particular has gone downhill in terms of quality and in terms of respect shown to the work, unlike most other places people paint in Melbourne. I mentioned my disappointment in my July article at a piece by German artist MSYK getting capped almost immediately after being painted (at the time it was by far the best piece in the lane). This is what Rutledge Lane is like now.

More recently in particular Rutledge Lane has gained a reputation as a “practice spot”. This reputation definitely doesn’t do any favours for the longevity of pieces painted there or to encourage respect, an unspoken rule in most other places you find graffiti and to some extent street art. “Don’t cap what you can’t burn” is not a saying that generally holds true in Rutledge Lane.

All of that said, while the lane was a little out of control, the layer upon layer of paint and tags and sculptures, was a spectacle in itself. There really wasn’t many (so publicly accessible) places quite like it in Melbourne. It even caught the eye of Futura when he was last in Melbourne. From my interview with him: “Well that’s the fucking craziest street in the world, I mean, that one back alley, it’s like DONE. Jesus it’s impressive. Fuck, I mean, you gotta see it to believe it. I don’t care where you go, you know, Germany, Italy, France no no no, it doesn’t exist. Plus your architecture.. the lanes, just the set up.” Not everyone will agree with this opinion, but it was a pretty special place in hindsight.

Walking through the lane after Doyle had finished, was a pretty surreal experience, love or hate the project. The fact that every single surface was well and truly covered in bright blue buff and it was quite unique. The lane stayed fenced off for 45 minutes before it was opened back up to the public, and once the fences removed it didn’t’ take long for the cans to come out and some awesome burners to grace the new blue walls. (“Thanks for the Blue” – someone wrote). Sadly these pieces were capped with shit soon after. (Check out #RutledgeLane on Instagram or Flickr to see lots more shots, it changes daily).

What was I expecting though? One criticism of the project relating to this point, would be the lack of community consultation and engagement. Could this have had a different outcome if let’s say all the artists and writers were a) across the project, b) endorsed it, and c) aware of it happening? What if it had been discussed and debated? What if the majority of artists did support it, and organised to meet in the lane once it had been reopened, and repainted the new blank canvas? Would that have changed things? Could it have been one almighty refresh of Rutledge Lane?

Watching the event in time lapse is also fascinating. Personally I would still be filming the experiment, to see how long it takes for all the blue to disappear. I think this was also a bit of a missed opportunity; how fascinating would it be to watch it over 6 months or a year?

Rutledge Lane - Photo by David Russell
Rutledge Lane. Photo by David Russell.

Another disappointment from my perspective was the lack of intelligent discussion this project generated. Not because it didn’t have potential to do so, but because most people are idiots. I found the reactions to this fascinating.

The majority of the reactions on Facebook and Blogs was just mindless insults and abuse. Some interesting (and ill informed) rumours too: “It’s for a new commercial,”  “It’s the cops, they’ve baited the lane and they’re filming to catch people,” “It’s illegal to paint there now.” There were a few sensible and intelligent comments though. Along the lines of “It’s a fresh canvas”, “Nothing is permanent” or “Go down and paint your best stuff and stop complaining”.

Others complained that he destroyed a iconic place with some classic pieces. As Doyle says “the lane was trashed” there were no really significant pieces there except for maybe 2 or 3; as Acclaim Magazine rightly noted “in my opinion, it is a shame to see those Mic and Tekno rollers disappear” (those pieces were only still left intact because they were up so high). The rest of the lane way was a mess. And, it will be back before people realise, I bet.

I think one of the things that pissed many people off was the fact the project was endorsed and facilitated by RMIT University (a large institution) and (as it turned out) the City of Melbourne. Two of the least relevant authorities on street art. It was also interesting timing given the Lord Mayor had said he was “worried about the quality of the street art” in the Herald Sun only a week earlier.

Was it a kick up the arse the lane and the scene sorely needed? Was it a challenge to the community? Why has this lane become a “practice lane”? Is this what the painters of Melbourne want people to see when they visit “the most iconic street art and graffiti location in Melbourne”? (According to the public/tourists anyway). Or was the lane perfect, just the way it was?

I still don’t know exactly what I think about this very unique project. I can see so many good things about it, but I also understand many people’s negative opinions. For me the negatives were only in the execution, maybe missing out on some potential opportunities to make this project even more effective.

Anyway, it’s over now. I am looking forward to watching the evolution of the new Rutledge lane. I wonder how long, if ever, it will take for every drop of blue to be covered.

I’d be interested to hear what you think in the comments section below.

Photos courtesy of: Adrian Lagniton, Khoon Sorasiri via Art Fido, David Russell and Dean Sunshine

Nether on Wall Hunters’ “Slumlord Project”

Mata Ruda’s piece on Broadway
Mata Ruda’s piece on Broadway. Photo courtesy of Wall Hunters.

Editor’s note: I tried to write about this fascinating project that just finished up in Baltimore, but for some reason I was unable. So, instead, I asked Nether to write about the project for Vandalog. Nether was one of the co-organizers, so instead of my guesswork and thoughts based on a few articles I had read, now we have a first-hand account of one of the more daring street art projects in recent memory: Wall Hunters’ “Slumlord Project”. – RJ Rushmore

Wall Hunters‘ “Slumlord Project” was a project that installed 17 pieces on dilapidated vacant houses that are owned by people we consider to be negligent property owners. The project was a collaborative venture between the newly-minted street artists’ nonprofit, Wall Hunters, and Slumlord Watch, a local blog that documents the city’s shameful and shockingly large stock of uninhabitable vacant homes. QR codes and text descriptions were pasted alongside the art. A cell phone app scan of these instantly unveiled ownership information on the guilty landowner by linking to the Baltimore Slumlord Watch website. The artists’ ephemeral work and the community reaction to it was recorded for a documentary being produced by the project’s third partners, filmmakers Tarek Turkey and Julia Pitch. The project’s goal was to catalyze a larger conversation on Baltimore’s vacancy issue–a conversation that includes the normally muted voices of those who live in the targeted neighborhoods, as well as politicians and the developers whose phone calls get answered by city hall.

The idea for the project was born about a year ago. At that time I was putting up wheatpastes on dilapidated, vacant houses. As I was researching specific properties I was hitting, I regularly came across the Baltimore Slumlord Watch blog run by the housing activist Carol Ott. Slumlord Watch is basically Wiki-leaks for Baltimore’s underfunded housing authority. As blog posts make clear, many of the blighted houses are owned by entities with the means to fix their crumbling properties–slumlords who blithely ignore the cost of their neglect on city communities. Since much of my work uses images to deal with the vacancy problem and Carol was battling the same issue, we decided to meet and try to do something that joined street art with housing activism. I began driving her around while she catalogued vacants and researched ownership, and I wheatpasted.

Continue reading “Nether on Wall Hunters’ “Slumlord Project””

Melbourne Monthly Madness – July 2013 (belated)

Apologies for the delay posting this. I have had to hold off posting it due to Illegal August.

HAHA - Photo by David Russell
HAHA – Photo by David Russell

Metro Gallery started off the month with the opening of their group show “Writing on the Wall” with works from local and international artists such as Swoon, Rone, Matt Adnate, HAHA, Word to Mother, E.L.K, Dabs Myla and D*Face and more. Some shots from the opening below and more here.

Rone - Photo by David Russell
Rone – Photo by David Russell
Word to Mother - Photo by David Russell
Word to Mother – Photo by David Russell

The day after the opening Metro hosted more live painting, this month featuring work by Unwell Bunny, Two One and again E.L.K. More shots here.

Unwell Bunny - Photo by David Russell
Unwell Bunny – Photo by David Russell
Two One - Photo by David Russell
Two One – Photo by David Russell
E.L.K - Photo by David Russell
E.L.K – Photo by David Russell

Chaotic Gallery’s 1st show BRUISER by Creature Creature was a cracker. A massive turnout for the Southside’s newest gallery. The works were amazing; a combination of the two artists styles which mesh so well together, featuring influences from the samurai era throughout. Check out some of my favourite pieces below and more here.  Also check out some of their recent paste ups, which I also love, here.

Creature Creature - Photo by David Russell
Creature Creature – Photo by David Russell
Creature Creature - Photo by David Russell
Creature Creature – Photo by David Russell
Creature Creature - Photo by David Russell
Creature Creature – Photo by David Russell

Continue reading “Melbourne Monthly Madness – July 2013 (belated)”

Tim Hans shoots… Swoon

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Caledonia Curry aka Swoon has to be one of my all-time favorite artists. Her wheatpastes have inspired a generation of street artists, and her work indoors and outdoors touches hearts in a way that many artists aspire to but few achieve. Earlier this year, Tim Hans met up to Swoon for the latest in our continuing series of photo-portraits of artists by Tim, and I asked her a few questions over email.

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RJ: You always seem to have a lot on your plate. What projects are you working on at the moment?

Swoon: Today I am gonna finish a paper cut out that’s hanging on my wall and needs my attention… what else?

I have a big installation coming up at the Brooklyn Museum that I’m pretty excited about, it opens in April 2014, along side Ai WeiWei and Judy Chicago, so I am honored to be in such good company, as well as just excited to create a big project in New York again after all these years.

And then besides a few other small projects in the works, the rest of my energies revolve around the big 3 that have dominated my life for the last couple of years – Konbit Shelter, sustainable architecture in post earthquake Haiti. Braddock Tiles, restoring a formerly abandoned church in Braddock, Pa to become an arts based learning center. And Dithyrambalina, musical architecture for New Orleans!

Whew! I get tired just thinking about it all!

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RJ: You just finished a community mural with Groundswell, right? How does that process compare to your usual public art or street art projects?

Swoon: Actually the mural is still in progress. We will be installing a version of it together on the Bowery wall in Manhattan in October. What I love about groundswell is the thoroughness of their process. Everybody benefits from a groundswell mural, all of the youth artists that are involved, as well as the community members who get an awesome colorful mural that they helped to inform and create. It’s been amazing watching them work.

RJ: So many of your projects (Miss Rockaway Armada, Swimming Cities, The Music Box…) seem to be able inspiring people to be creative themselves. Why is that such a focus of yours?

Swoon: I’ll answer this one in a story.

So, one night in New Orleans we had an event to introduce our ideas to community organizers from various neighborhoods. There was a woman there named Linda Jackson, a resident of the Lower Ninth Ward who has been working tirelessly to bring her neighborhood back since the storm. This woman was fierce and I really admired her. She came up to me and said “Whatever I have to do to welcome you to into my community, I will. I got your back if you guys decide you want to work in the Lower Nine.” I asked her a bit about why she thought a project like musical architecture could be good for her neighborhood and she said “You know, it’s gonna really help these kids. We have kids with no parents, latch key kids, and kids whose parents are addicted to drugs, and in that situation creativity can save a kid’s life.”

Right then a light bulb went on in my head.  I don’t know why I had never put this thought together until this conversation, perhaps I had been avoiding it, but all of the sudden I understood something about my own life — and perhaps something about why I do the work that I do — and I said, “It’s true, my parents were hardcore drug addicts and my mother stayed an addict for the whole of my life. When I was 10 years old, and I found painting, it absolutely saved me.”

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RJ: What is it about block printing that keeps you interested in the medium after all these years?

Swoon: I was just saying this the other day, that I find it funny that no matter how many blocks I carve, each time I start to carve one I get excited to begin it. I just love the process. I love the transformation that happens to the drawing through carving, and I love the permutations you get to experiment with when you have a bunch of different prints to work with.

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RJ: What was the last great book you read?

Swoon: Hmm, well, I just watched a documentary and started on a book I found from watching it, and to be honest the documentary was only barely watchable, and the book may or may not turn out to be great, but both of them are on a subject that is so incredibly important that I dearly hope they keep up their work.

The doc was called Punishment: A Failed Social Experiment, and it centers around the way that the prison system, and indeed the idea of punishment are both dysfunctional in philosophy and in practice, and then tries to highlight the work of some people like the psychiatrist Bob Johnson who worked for years in the maximum security prisons in Britain and believes that even the hardest criminals can heal psychologically given the proper help. It’s a whole mind shift toward the idea that retribution is barbaric and unacceptable, and that our only real goal is to help people heal and to stop violence from continuing in our communities. Seems a really promising direction.

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Photos by Tim Hans

Illegal August: Vandalog’s month-long experiment revealed and explained

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I have a confession to make: If you read Vandalog at all this August, you were taking part in an experiment, but today we are ready to publicly announce what we were doing. We nicknamed the experiment Illegal August. Look back through what we posted last month and you’ll see that we only posted about illegal work or news stories relating to illegal work from August 1st-31st. The experiment extended to our Tumblr and Facebook pages too. It was an entire month of ignoring murals, gallery shows, print releases and the VMAs on all of the general Vandalog sites (we didn’t include our personal social media accounts in the experiment, so that’s why you may have seen legal work on the Vandalog Twitter or Instagram accounts, which are really my personal accounts).

The idea for Illegal August came out of a dinner that Caroline and I had with Luna Park and Laser Burners. We were discussing mural festivals and legal murals, and how perhaps street art blogs have lost focus on street art in favor of covering a roving band of international murals touring city to city like mercenaries with spray cans, ready to paint something out of their sketchbook on any wall they can get access to, as long as they also get access to a lift. Somehow, I don’t think Luna Park actually ever said this to me, but I got the idea in my head that she had challenged Vandalog to only post about illegal work for one month. Whether she said that outright or even intended to make that challenge or not, I associate Illegal August with Luna Park. I thought it was a great idea to try only posting about illegal street art and graffiti for one month, and I chose August for the challenge/experiment because I thought that would be the most difficult month. There are so many mural festivals from July through September that I knew Vandalog would miss out posting about some great murals. It would hurt, but if it wasn’t going to hurt, what would be the point?

The rules for Illegal August were simple: Anyone posting on Vandalog from August 1st through 31st had to be reasonably confident that what they were posting about had been done without permission, or if they were posting news or an interview that the content was related to something that had been done without permission.

Illegal August morphed from a challenge into an experiment when I decided that we would attempt to complete the challenge without announcing it publicly. I wanted to see what readers would do. Would people complain that we weren’t covering Living Walls? Would they stop visiting? Would they get tired of posts featuring stickers and tags when they had come to expect murals? Would anyone notice what we were doing and ask us about it?

One way to analyze what happened is by looking at visitor numbers. In July, our most popular post by a mile was this one about a legal mural by Escif. In August, it was this post about a piece by Above that I believe to have been done illegally but I’m not positive. The Escif post got about 3x the visits as the Above post. Looking at pageviews in July versus August, we saw about a 10% drop in visitors.

But not all visits should be counted equally. Multiple posts in August inspired people to email me personally to say how much they enjoyed something that we had published. Most months, people will share what they like on Facebook or Twitter, but honestly it isn’t common for me to receive the kinds of emails I got last month. To me, that says that at least some of the people who did visit Vandalog in August were more engaged than visitors in July. I would rather know that a handful Vandalog readers are really loving the content than that a lot of people are visiting who are mostly indifferent about the content. It seems that focusing on illegal work forced myself, the rest of the Vandalog team and this month’s guest posters, to create more engaging and unique content.

What a lot of people may not realize is that a lot of what gets posted on Vandalog are things that I learn about because people email me press releases (sometimes very formal ones, sometimes entirely informal) about them. But most artists don’t send out messages to their mailing list when they put up a wheatpaste. Those emails are pretty much reserved for legal murals and gallery events. Illegal August forced me to not be so lazy. I had to go out and find content, whether that be interesting guest posts or searching through archives to highlight underrated artists. It was a lot harder than just publishing whatever was in my email inbox. But because I wasn’t worried about posting the latest murals, it freed me up to write about artists like You Go Girl! and Enzo&Nio whom I love but tend to neglect posting about. Basically, Illegal August allowed me to escape the rat race that street art blogging can be, the very existence of which is nuts since all of us bloggers are doing this out of love and a passion for the art.

But what art are we really so passionate about? I’ve always described Vandalog as a street art blog, and then there are blogs like StreetArtNews and Brooklyn Street Art with “street art” right in the name. I did a quick look at at what StreetArtNews, Wooster Collective, Brooklyn Street Art and Juxtapoz (in their “Street Art” section) posted during the week of August 19th…

    • 28 out of 38 posts on StreetArtNews that week were definitely about legal work, with one post mixing legal and illegal work and 9 where I wasn’t positive if the work was painted legally or illegally.
    • The only post on Wooster Collective that week was about a print release related to their 10 year anniversary show with Jonathan Levine Gallery.
    • Brooklyn Street Art had 2 posts about legal work, 2 posts about work that seemed likely to be illegal, and 3 posts that had a mix of legal and illegal work.
    • 13 out of 14 posts that Juxtapoz published under their “Street Art” category were entirely about legal work.
    • I would guess that if Vandalog had not been in the midst of Illegal August, at least 75% of our posts for that week would have been about legal work.

Given those numbers, if you think that “street art” means art placed in public space without permission, it’s pretty clear that street art blogs are not the place to go looking for street art online. But why is that? Talk to any street art blogger and they will tell you about the awesome wheatpaste or sticker that they saw recently before mentioning the mural they posted about the night before.

Huge murals captured in the perfect light by professional photographers look great on blogs, regardless of how they look in person. Stickers and wheatpastes captured with an iPhone that look like crap on blogs can stop you in your tracks on the street. And on the street, the work is confronting you, so you’re going to look at it whether it’s Swoon or Mr. Brainwash or someone you’ve never heard of. Online, if you’re like most viewers and see a headline for a blog post along the lines of “Some guy you’ve never heard of who does wheatpastes in a city you’ve never been to,” you’re maybe not so likely to read that post. This may be one reason why street art blogs and general art and culture blogs that cover street art have shifted from covering street art to covering contemporary muralism under the guise of covering street art.

And then there is the issue of laziness that I mentioned. Well, not really laziness, but it’s just easier to post about the legal piece is sitting right in your inbox than to go out searching through flickr or actual streets (if you’re lucky enough to live near a lot of street art) in search of something brilliant but still illegal.

Or maybe street art just doesn’t mean the same thing that it once did. Maybe mural festivals and the ease of finding legal walls has elevated the genre. Artists can spend days on a mural without worrying about police rather than sneaking around at night and working as quickly as possible. With plentiful legal walls, maybe some artists don’t see the need for working illegally anymore. Can the same goals be achieved at a legal wall as at an illegal spot? I don’t think so, but some may disagree with me.

For me, Illegal August was difficult. I had to spend a lot more time than usual coming up with content, even though I asked guest bloggers to come in and help lighten the load. And it hurt. It hurt to not post about Living Walls while Caroline and I were there watching the conference happen. It hurt to not post about Tristan Eaton painting a spot that I helped to organize in Little Italy. It hurt to tell artists whose work I really like, “Sorry, no. I can’t post about this.” But Illegal August was also freeing. It made me realize when it hurt to not post something, and when I hardly cared. It allowed me to get out of posting work that I would have otherwise been on the fence about, but would have felt obligated to post because of personal ties or because all the other blogs were posting about it and not posting would make it look like Vandalog wasn’t up on the latest thing. I hope that this experiment can spark a discussion in the street art and contemporary muralism communities about how we create, promote and consume art, but on a personal level it has helped to remind me that Vandalog is about what I feel strongly about, and I need to keep the focus on that. Today Vandalog goes back to “normal,” but it won’t be unchanged.

What do you think about Illegal August? Did you notice anything different on the site? Was the experiment valuable or a waste? Are street art blogs too focused on legal walls? Has “street art” become about legal work? If so, should that change and how could it?

Photo by RJ Rushmore

Parallel interviews with Droid 907 and Stikman

Stikman
Stikman. Photo by Stikman.

Stikman and Droid: On the Importance of Illegality in Their Work, an introduction by ekg

a few weeks ago, i was asked by RJ to do an interview with Stikman, which would be published on Vandalog during the month of august, 2013. first and foremost, i was thrilled to be interviewing Stikman, a long-time friend, and longer-time Street Art hero of mine. of secondary interest, over the past year, i’ve been working on an epic essay called Anti-Legal Art: On the Importance of Illegal Aesthetic Manifestations in the Twenty-First Century, so i thought this might be a good opportunity to collect some first-hand data on that topic from one of the lifetime-dedicated, constantly up and consistently innovative street artists today. no matter what else is going on, he is always up with new series and new materials, which has cemented in my mind his dedication to the medium, embodied in his consistent efforts for the past twenty plus years to disseminate his sign, spread the word, and challenge the law.

with a weird subtle quiet alien language, Stikman has been leaving a cosmic trail of lo-res multimedia crumbs throughout the urban semiotosphere for us to discover and decipher. his main icon is an alien form rendered with primitive materials in an infinity of mutations and environments. in a sense, Stikman operates much like a tagger in terms of his obsession with constantly being up, the wide dissemination of his mark, and the large quantity of his small-to-tiny pieces. but instead of markers and spray paint, Stikman utilizes alternative materials to disseminate his character, such as wood, metal, glass, and other sculptural elements recovered from the trash, as well as wheat pastes, printed and hand-made stickers, computer-manipulated mutations in all mediums, photographic and illustration fictional environments, and other interesting series as well. unlike a graffiti writer, Stikman does not utilize letterforms, but his primitive alien could be defined as a “character,” which quickly became an important element in the writer’s palette during the seventies as the movement grew in size and diversity of talents.

more often than not Stikman chooses small humble spots for his offspring: the alcove of a steel girder; floating almost unnoticeable in the middle of a peeling sticker mess; forgotten rusty metal boxes; underneath staircases in the dark; inside a missing-brick nook; yet all right under our noses in highly congested urban display hubs. sometimes as large as life, but more often as an invasion of miniatures, totemic and other worldly, charismatic and resonant, significant. does the primitive expression of a futuristic character inspire paradoxical feelings of nostalgia for a simpler earth bound time but at the same time create a yearning for an alien saviour to save us from ourselves? or does it emote a sensation of elation as in the moments of a visionary scientific discovery through alien contact? or is it simply a sign that encapsulates a relief that the alien isn’t a member of the slimy bloodthirsty hordes like a majority of our movies promote as the dominant dystopic mythology? whatever theoretical narrative can be applied to our attraction to these graphic alien insurgents, they have landed, been building underground support, attracting a large vocal segment of our population that is excited about it.

in my recent paris travelogue, i wrote that i feel like Johnny Appleseed as i disseminate marks. this concept of a writer or street artist sprinkling tags or stickers around a city like the iconic Johnny Appleseed flinging his seeds from his sack in an anarchistic, unsanctioned trail behind him across the rural landscape, first occurred to me during a conversation about Stikman’s series of municipal street adhesives. he literally walks around dropping those thick adhesive aliens onto the asphalt in crossing walks and parking spots as if it was a fertile bed of dirt in which his alien flowers will pollinate, mutate and grow, due to the constant motion and weight of traffic passing over them. like a twenty-first century Johnny Appleseed, Stikman releases his beings into cultural consciousness on the anarchistic and rebellious broadcast channel of Street Art; and yet still transmits a quiet message of poetic transgression, positive cultural mutation, and personal vision, a calm voice of beauty and reason in the aetherial semiotosphere, a contrasting environment of hyper texts and semiotic wars, missives and missiles, data patterns and pigment irruption, agents of the matrix and guerrilla aesthetic actions.

Droid and Amanda Wong. Photo by Amanda Wong.
Droid 907 and Amanda Wong in the Catskills. Photo by Amanda Wong.

in the past couple years, i have also been in contact with Droid 907, a graffiti writer who continues to blow me away as he expands his repertoire, exploring a wide-range of hardcore graffiti tools; collaborating constantly with other artists and crews on missions, painting  larger and larger outdoor pieces while developing unique roller letterforms, as either clean-and-bright two-tone pieces, or wacky and crude expressionistic letterforms; expanding his already-wide geographic perimeter through a network of bike maniacs, van nomads and freight hoppers, poetry in motion, all dedicated to an off-the-grid DIY lifestyle making music and art, publishing zines and encrypted web pages, curating shows and running galleries, while also managing exposure on the internet through a network of friends, fans, and a sympathetic media community.

in the previously mentioned paris travelogue, i was snarky at one point about the overuse and meaninglessness of the term “Punk” forty years after it’s inception; but here i am just a week later reading statements by and looking at photos of Droid’s work, which have, in total for me (including other interactions with him over the past three years), imbued the term once again with its original anti-status quo meaning, a symbolic power derived from IRL transgressive action, off-the-grid DIY work ethic and alternative lifestyle, and blunt radical political statements. to sum up: Droid gives Punk meaning again. this may even be a sign of something else brewing, the crest of some building resonance, the immediate unseen and unrecognized now pregnant with singularity and tumescence, rearing itself up from a minority to a majority, no longer a whisper but a shout. from a third-person vantage point, reading the accruing signs, Droid’s memoires and photo essays, as well as his friend’s zines and other media, such as Avoid’s Vagrant Space website and the novel Train To Pokipse by Rami Shamir, are a bold collective attempt at creating a transom-window visionary-view statement about the growing youth underground in America that in another ten years, as the chasm between rich and poor continues to grow unacceptably wider and future opportunities are proactively hoarded by the one percent, may well become the angry fist of a job-less, cash-less, CPU-less, homeless, transient mass culture with no where to go but off-the-grid onto unregulated topology, creating a new kind of culture that will not be based in anaesthetization in front of a computer screen or by an American Dream that is unattainable for 99% of the population.

so, having Droid on my mind while i was thinking about what to ask Stikman, i was struck by how differently these two artists express themselves with their work on the street, and wondered how two such distinct personalities ended up choosing the same illegal alternative channel to broadcast their message. Graffiti and Street Art can be defined abstractly as a channel, a broadcast media, an alternative wavelength that also imbues the signs transmitted through it with an aura of rebellion under a Halo of Illegality. therefore, since the Medium is the Mess, this particular media manifests an inherently anti-status quo, anarchistic and revolutionary signal and sign. this added layer of outlaw semiotic definition is embedded in the remnants of the art on the street and in the photographs of the art on the internet by the indications of the transgressive action that took place in the placement of the symbols illegally on an unsanctioned display surface. this is the heart of art placed on the streets, the human pulse of the populace, the urge to take back our surveillance reality, re-manifest ourselves through coordinates of insurrection, and visual civil disobedience.

the Illegality of graffiti and street art is a crucial formal aesthetic category at the root of the movement’s cultural power, strategic operations, aesthetic forms and choice of materials. the choices an artist makes from this selection of options defines their personal vocabulary with which they symbolically define themselves and express their message. etch tags or wheat paste? spray paint or rollers? fame spots or cutty hideaways? freights or walls? quantity or detail? stickers or extinguishers? construction sites or high end retail? some materials are contentious, but can be offset by other elements in play. each makes a statement about the artist, their temperament, their strengths and their intentions. so why and how do artists as different as Stikman and Droid express themselves on the same illegal broadcast channel?

Stikman. Photo by Stikman.
Stikman. Photo by Stikman.

i sent Stikman and Droid the same twenty questions, each consisting of three-to-four more increasingly specific sub-questions on a similar theme; so in essence i sent them about sixty questions total. as i was crafting them, i did not really think about how much i was asking of them, so i want to emphasize that i appreciate their time and effort. it meant a lot to me that they wrote so much detailed, thoughtful and inspiring text. as well as RJ for the suggestion to combine the answers underneath each question. i’m sure it took a lot of time to format, and was well appreciated. thank you.

i’d also like to mention that both Stikman and Droid expressed mutual admiration for each other’s work when i first raised the idea to them. if forced to make this kind of comparison, each of them fall onto opposite ends of the Graffiti and Street Art spectrum, but, at the same time, because of their unique aesthetic paths, they are also outsiders within their designated categories. so mutual awareness makes sense: in the presence of Art, categories collapse and unique minds recognize each other. for instance, when it comes to street operations, Stikman is basically a solo agent on the streets and a ghost on the internet with no self-directed presence except through fan photography and gallery representation; where as droid is constantly painting with different partners, as well as utilizing methods to stay off the grid that involve multiple subcultural supports and many layers of socially-engineered encryption when utilizing the internet. for Stikman, who is celebrated more often in Street Art contexts, he is still a complete enigma in that subculture, because of his refusal to show his face in public or do legal walls, even during his own solo shows; similarly, Droid could be considered a Graffiti outsider from a traditionalist’s viewpoint because of his dedication to the raw power of rollers, an underground comix aerosol aesthetic, and a strong political voice in a movement that usually counts on the aesthetic transgressions to speak for themselves.

important to note is that any truly singular voices, such as Stikman’s or Droid’s, frequently are quarantined in a marginalized cultural space until enough mass-market interest makes it economically feasible for the mass media to broadcast it; but on the other hand, this gives culture-at-large some time to assimilate difficult artist’s visions from the ground up. ironically, this is usually due to a significant portion of the mass population already being altered by, or at least familiar with the artist’s message through the artist’s personal subcultural osmotic-homeopathic resonance which eventually vibrates up to the mass cultural level. an attempt at a flow chart illustrating such relationships between artist’s fame and cultural demand would be fascinating: it is impossible to hold back a resonant aesthetic form when it speaks using the pertinent vocabulary of an era. due to their own particular aesthetic voices, or simply because of their utilization of and dedication to the Graffiti and Street Art broadcast mediums, Stikman and Droid may be recognized as artists historically at ground zero, relevant to cultural discourse, symbolic expressions of a time period, ideal examples of new technologies manifesting aesthetic forms, visual metaphors that summarize the feelings of the majority of the populace, but above and beyond all that: i see Stikman and Droid at their cores as enduring flames in a flat-lining world.

Droid 907 and Wolftits in Boston. Photo by Danika2
Droid 907 and Wolftits in Boston. Photo by Danika2.

egk: when and where did you first get up?

Stikman: When I was 15, I wrote my name in black paint with a paintbrush all over town like everyone else I grew up with. It was in an older inner ring suburb of a large city in the Northeast US.

Droid 907: the first writer i got up with was DESIGN NFO from brooklyn in the mid 90’s. i was broke and new to the city. the subway was still free and one could venture all over town with no money. he put me down on $35 ounce weed spots in harlem, basically showing me how to make a buck and keep my head above water. he’d write his name whenever he felt like it, regardless of who was around, and pass the marker or can to me and expect me to do the same. it was a different time in new york city for sure. i wrote a different name then and met a number of city kids who all wrote tags. i kept scrawling and scribbling for a few years, as more of an aimless act than one with a mission or purpose. it was more like graffiti found me and it took me awhile to understand it. it wasn’t until 2003 that i did my first roller with FIYAH EMP that i got deeper into the organism.

Continue reading “Parallel interviews with Droid 907 and Stikman”