How Street Art Became High Art: The Art School Method
Julie Fishkin
Swoon, Lower East Side.
Like everything else in New York City that has become iconic because of the peculiarity of the activity and the place that bred it, street art–once populating walls, bridges, and the mythic subway trains–has changed into something else entirely. Today, much that we label "street art" probably has its origins in rarified art schools and prestigious MFA programs and holds tenuous links, if any, to the New York City streets and their ineluctable sensibilities. It would be pointless to lament this situation; with the NYC neighborhoods undergoing constant reinvention and evolution, it’s only natural that the art created in response should change as well. If former mayor David Dinkins once jokingly pronounced piss to be the "official" smell of NYC, and Times Square was a distinguished sex hub, today, for better or for worse, these elements exist primarily in the city’s collective memory. Today? Luxury high rises are popping up to erase the traces of dilapidation, pristine streets are adorned with fashionable window displays; there is a voracious demand for brand marketing aimed at youth culture made by artists-turned-designers. It should come as no surprise that today’s so-called "street artists" purport an entirely different ethos from the graffiti legends of the 70s and 80s.
Graffiti aficionados believe the first known graffiti artist to be Taki 183, a Greek kid who wrote his name and building number in the early 70s. At the time, wall tagging was something the taggers did haphazardly, on their way to paint trains. And soon, the subway trains were completely covered with graffiti. The last of these trains was removed in 1989, a year which marks the beginning of street graffiti, an entirely new form of street art that saw its rise with the demise of the tagged subway cars.
The subway as a system of transportation doubled as a system of communication for the graffiti artists. As each train entered different boroughs, the various groups learned about each other and recognized the signatures and other coded elements attesting to the diversity of work being produced concurrently in New York City. This communal recognition quickly led to competition and, of course, to innovation. Graffiti artists began developing more elaborate codes and functions of the newly stylized "tag," or name. What in NYC began as a simple declaration of self through the artist’s "tag" rapidly evolved to incorporate different slogans, including political ones, and racist ones, impressive throw-ups on bridges, inside subway tunnels and off roof tops, veritable paintings on walls to commemorate dead friends or celebrities, and of course art graffiti by the likes of Jean-Michel Basquiat, Keith Haring, Lady Pink and many others.
Even legally commissioned graffiti by shop owners, which initially was a way to minimize the number of tags put up on walls, has become a popular method of showing the work without the consequences. Many true graffiti artists sneer at this simply because to them, the act of graffiting, the transgression on public space, is part of the point. Moreover, the very label of graffiti must be earned through a rite of passage, which often comes with a jail sentence, police beatings, or even death. Other new forms of graffiti have since evolved and now grace gallery walls as often as city streets–stickers, stencils, and wheat pastes. Graffiti culture has alternately influenced and been diluted, subverted and been commercialized, redefined and been absorbed by Hollywood, hip-hop and urban culture in general.
Today, artists who call their work "street art" are certainly not working in the same vein as their predecessors. "Back then, everyone–from the little brother to the crack head on the corner–had a tag. Not everyone put it up but many did," says Slept, a graffiti artist who also doubles as a painter. Certain legendary figures linger in people’s minds, such as Revs and Cost, who wheat pasted, painted and stickered their names all over the city, earning themselves mythic status. Other legendary groups such as XTC, TFO and Smith and Sane, who was found dead in a river under mysterious circumstances (or perhaps because bombing the outside of a bridge is dangerous), have all dedicated their lives to preserving and purporting graffiti culture. Harsher police penalties, more stringent laws and a general change in hip-hop and street culture has led to a decline in crime but also to a more commercialized, money-oriented, or simply individualized, approach to street art.
A team of twin brothers from Skewville started making wooden sneakers and hanging them up around NYC and other major cities all over the world as an urban tribute to those days when city kids would throw their sneakers over telephone polls everywhere. Instead of using spray paint or stencils, the Skewville twins http://www.whendogsfly.com/ constructed, by hand, hundreds of wooden sneakers, painted them and threw them up just like when they were kids with their real sneakers, creating a new way to voice their presence and make their mark. Since the inception of their sneaker project, they have had offers from major corporations, including Converse and Nike, to do projects for them; the twins from Skewville refused, claiming that "we had the opportunity to sell out but we turned them down;" their hand-made sneakers are their project, their own corporation of sorts.
Another artist whose hand has ubiquitously covered walls and staircases in Brooklyn and Manhattan is Neck Face. Spot his first, now-famous, written proclamation: "Neck Face is ugly." It is this self-deprecating, personal commentary scrawled in his easily identifiable handwriting that has brought him his fame. Neck Face’s tag is often accompanied by drawings of simple faces or child-like images–art brut? evidence of a child’s persistent urge to draw his world? too precious? Neck Face has exhibited in many gallery shows and boutiques; opinion of his credibility remains ambiguous. The twins from Skewville said: "Quote me on this. Neck Face: No comment… Everyone had a friend who drew like him but someone marketed him. He followed the formula."
Formula or not, this move from the street to the gallery is a common one for street artists who have graduated from art school and find themselves eager to support the rising prices of living (and surviving) in New York. The move from the street to the gallery has become quite common, a fact that has many "true" graffiti artists dismayed. Street artist Barry McGee, along with Todd James (REAS) and Steve Powers (ESPO) recreated their version of the city streets inside Deitch Projects in 2000. At the most recent Armory Show, Deitch Projects had ESPO create a booth in the form of a bakery, with artist-made cookies and cakes, while Swoon, who recently graduated from Pratt Institute, decorated the side of the booth with her wheat pastes and graffiti. The Skewville twins respond to this phenomenon: "Originally, artists put their work on the streets to counteract the clutter of advertising. Now street artists clutter the streets with art that advertises themselves as a brand (think: Obey Giant). We try to go beyond."
Graffiti, by definition, is illegal. Its reformation and reconstitution on the white walls of fancy galleries is lamentable for some graffiti artists. "The hardcore writers are still keeping it alive and employing new tactics for destruction that can’t be removed," says Slept. "From acids, paint rollers, to [physically] hanging off the sides of buildings and just smarter tactics to paint places that won’t be easily buffed [removed], is in one aspect moving ahead. The people that are doing their thing deserve awards and shit, to really bust your ass and possibly lose your freedom over something the majority of young people aren’t into says a lot about the writers’ hearts, attitudes and quest to keep the art alive." In fact, Swoon has accrued some resentment in the community for apparently putting her work over other people’s tags and pieces, exhibiting a disregard and lack of respect.
The attention and acclaim these artists are receiving is directly related to a new demand within art circles. With the price of contemporary art reaching astronomical levels, the search for new work on the "street" seems logical. The notion of "street art," however is hardly accurate; most of these artists working with wheat pastes, stencils, even graffiti are art school graduates with gallery aspirations. With New York becoming cleaner and wealthier, a new generation of artists who draw their inspiration from the "streets" are inevitably moving in the same direction.
