Sunday, March 29, 2015

Covering Legals .. Sorry but who are you? (In answer to Trish)

Just so we are clear (I would like to think many have picked this vibe up from me before): I think a lot of legals are shithouse. Like, really fucking banal and vanilla. Spare me, shoot me, just stop being cute.
There is a paradoxical vibe undermining street art right now.  Some are attempting to use the paradigm and power of 'legitimacy' to pull rank. In public. On walls. In shared spaces. Outside of galleries. I don't care who owns a wall, legally, no one owns rights over how others choose to treat it. Well, aside from the cops, obviously.      
Coming from this perspective, with my romantic notion of anarchy, I need to therefore ask: why the fuck are some people increasingly becoming so pent up when 'legals' get 'capped' ?
Do we need to drag this old argument out again? How does a pecking order based on what looks 'good' sit next to the reality that art in the street is public. By allowing the idea of a collective understanding of 'good art' to have any legitimacy we are actually buying into the commercial and bureaucratic ideas of how to control the 'filth on the streets'.
This is very judgemental territory people. Make no mistake, you will turn Melbourne into a giant Chadstone food court if you buy into it.
I absolutely refuse to support any notion that involves favouring one thing on a wall over another because of some notion of beauty, talent or legality. I don't mind if you do. But it makes you a conservative, in my mind. 
Who says what is good? What does it mean to critique the street? Like I said, I know as much as anyone in the public, about seeing and responding in public spaces.
But Trish, sorry but back at you, who the fuck are you?
Our walls. Our land. Our rules. Stop buying the shit the council tells you. Let them pay your rent, for sure, but don't sell out. 

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Safety Fallacy

I was attacked once. In my home. I was 11 years old, and I ran away under the perpetrator's legs and to the safety of a neighbour. The cops think he followed me home. I have often wondered about my fate had I not escaped. And I watch my back. I would love to say if we all got pissed off that it happens, if there was enough keyboard rage, it would go away. It won't.
What happened in a park this week to a teenager is awful. We are all getting heated and pent up about the language around it, who we blame. But can I say, in that moment for that girl, ideology, rhetoric and the 'power' of language meant fucking nothing. She just needed to be safe, but she wasn't and she died violently. So with all due respect, let's all get on with the task of allowing her shocked friends and family to grieve.
I love parks and always will. But our safety cannot be assured anywhere, and nothing will change that.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

for the sake of it

I don't know why, but somewhere between January and now I made a few right turns and ended up focussed elsewhere. I started to focus my photography on Nth Fitzroy, reflecting images that represented what I was feeling as I pounded the pavement and not the other way around.

I used to walk the streets to kick a fix of art that made me happy. So the drive was what was out there, not what was 'in here' *pointing to self*.

This transition is weird, uncomfortable and leaves me with unease. You may even have noticed me shifting more over to Wordpress. It seems so much more grown up.

I can only reminisce today. Not much recent work to publish. I trust Fitzroy is enjoying its resurgence in street art, with so many huge names coming back - with the launch of Chopper Lane, the Paterson Project, and various commissioned jobs around the traps. I have enjoyed watching from afar.