Monday, September 3, 2012

Memorial Hunt (Kelly) : Graffiti


I have always had a long standing infatuation with the British street artist known as Banksy. I think his pieces are thought provoking, smart, witty, poignant, vulgar, violent, unsettling, hilarious, cute, and every other adjective you could probably come up with.

When ever I get on a Banksy kick and start googling him and seeing what new mischief he is up to, I always come across this quote of his: 
“I don’t believe in anything. I’m just here for the violence.” That statement has always fascinated me, because one would not associated street art with violence. I understand that graffiti could be associated with gangs and, therefore, violence does seem to be a key ingredient in that, butI’m talking more about his stencil work. The one with two male police officers making out. One where a man is throwing a bouquet of flowers as if it is a grenade. The violence that Banksy is talking about… perhaps it is the violence that happens once he has done his work. To see the uproar it has stirred. To see what happens when you shake society a little bit more than expected.

My friend took me to one of her favorite spots in Bloomington where she practices her graffiti. (Apparently there is a very large street artists’ community in Bloomington. And, as my friend put it “aside from a few dicks” every seems to be very supportive of each other and each other’s talents. 
One ‘genre’ that is beginning to surface is these emotional statements tagged on the side of buildings.   



This kind of tagging has been around forever and I hope I’m not making it sound like this is something that is revolutionarily unique. It’s not. These types of graffiti date all the way back to ancient Rome where people would write on walls in frustrating rage about someone who sleeps around a lot. These PSA’s, though, I believe, are a type or revolution. Perhaps even a revolt.

The painted words on the wall is, certainly, not a plaque commemorating fallen soldiers, or ‘the ones who’ve passed these halls before’. But they do commemorate something or someone, that much is obvious. And I think that is where the brilliance of this all comes in.

The artist is demanding you participate.
The artist has given us a portion of the picture but not everything. We must fill in the left over holes. The gaps that were left behind.

Who was this man who was, apparently, good?
Did that person ever forget that other person?
When does the point come when it truly is too late to apologize?
So there is not a institution that is being remembered here. There is no ‘fund’ to make life easier for the next being established. In fact, it is quite the opposite. It’s the artist making a choice to go out and buy a can of spray paint. And tag this message on a building. Inside the artist there was this need to commemorate a person. An idea. 
Or perhaps they needed to put to rest a relationship that has been long since dead and left this as a final goodbye and a resting place. 

Having that desire inside the artsist to go out and do this, and then have it, in turn, demand that the audience participate.


No longer is the artists’ work the performance. 
But it is merely a trigger for the audience to become the performer.

I think this type of graffiti in conversation with very expensive statues and plaques and the like, is very fascinating. Because I respond to these much more than I do of the bust of Herman Wells. These are monuments that I can cling to and understand
“The Spectacle is not a collection of images; rather, it is a social relationship between people that is mediated by images.” Debord 12

That transfer between image and audience is where the spectacle takes place.
It’s not the interpretation of the image, but it is the audience’s performance prompted by the image that stirs inside a relationship with the artist we may have never even met. A communication. 

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