| In 1979 I painted about 40 hummingbirds on exterior locations in lower Manhattan. An experience I’ve never recovered from. Every year I do another street project but I don’t think I’ll ever get to the bottom of the possibilities I stumbled upon with those birds. For years I engaged in a pretty standard street art message-in-a-bottle type of dialogue. Lately though, with the new spirit on the public commons, I’ve been amping it up. Last year I put trompe l’oeil-occupied grates and vents on the ugly new condo buildings out here in Williamsburg. The characters behind the grates had to be subtle enough so the pieces wouldn’t be instantly spotted and removed. This strategy was suggested by the piece from the year before where I did interventions on “Do Not Enter” signs… |  |
Dan Witz
In 1979 I painted about 40 hummingbirds on exterior locations in lower Manhattan. An experience I’ve never recovered from. Every year I do another street project but I don’t think I’ll ever get to the bottom of the possibilities I stumbled upon with those birds.
For years I engaged in a pretty standard street art message-in-a-bottle type of dialogue. Lately though, with the new spirit on the public commons, I’ve been amping it up. Last year I put trompe l’oeil-occupied grates and vents on the ugly new condo buildings out here in Williamsburg. The characters behind the grates had to be subtle enough so the pieces wouldn’t be instantly spotted and removed. This strategy was suggested by the piece from the year before where I did interventions on “Do Not Enter” signs here and abroad. The more sneaky and integrated the imagery, the longer the piece would last. But—and this is the street artist’s dilemma—much fewer people would see it. So, after watching people somnambulate by my work for so many years, this season with the Dark Doings series, I’m embracing this: I’m exploiting our sleepwalking ways and committing outrageous acts right out there in plain view, which are also practically invisible. My goal is to make obvious, in-your-face art that 99 percent of the people who walk by won’t notice. Eventually when they stumble upon one or find out about it I’m hoping they’ll start wondering what else they’ve been missing.
I’m attracted to street art because it’s not for sale; no one can own it; it can exist independently of the compromises of consumer capitalism. The idea of an art form not being dependent on the market place is, frankly, a huge relief to me. I don’t hate the art world; for the most part it means well, but let’s be honest: it pretty much sucks the life out of everything it touches. For me these days, it’s simple: if art is free, it keeps me free. That said, when people find out I’ve had a long career doing free, anonymous street art, they almost invariably say something like, “Wow. That’s really great. But how do you make a living?” The answer, which is that I show “real” art in galleries as well, always seems mildly disappointing to them, like they were hoping maybe I was a tattooist or a taxidermist or something.
