Life in vacant spaces

Christchurch 2014. At first glance you see a ghost town created by an economic bubble/crash. Boarded windows, letters bursting out of abandoned offices. Or you see a war zone, maybe one you have  imagined or seen on TV. A concrete and tiled staircase leading to nowhere. Twisted metal poles pressing through brick and concrete rubble. But then you urbex. Yes, I am claiming it as a verb. You step onto the vacant lots that were high rising bastions to enterprise. You trespass, but let's face it that's the only way. And around every corner, in every nook and all over every cranny, there is art. Initiative, hope, respect, expression of grief, optimism, sadness and again, hope. Art. Street Art. Urban landscape. This is Christchurch 2014.

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Toy Soldiers

The street is a harsh and violent critic.  It is a complex species.  It is homeless and Bourgeosie.  It is Queer and homophobic.   It is public school and private.  It is Bogan and Hipster.  It is male and female.  It is legal and illegal. It is gender fucked.  It is a battlefield where rules of combat collide with anarchy.  So it is a brave soldier that ventures into the street, and a war weary warrior that emerges.