When living in a city, it is always nice to see space used for public art. But the public part of public art is often too tied up in political decision making or too representative of local power (as opposed to local publics). This is why I have become increasingly fascinated with anonymous public art--art that has neither benefactor, nor permit, nor commission. I first took notice of this while visiting friends in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn (1st Brooklyn Stop on the L train from Manhattan). You know how kids often tie old pairs of shoes together and then launch them onto power lines and phone lines? Well, that's what I noticed in Williamsburg, except someone had been making shoe-shaped plywood cut-outs, painting them in all forms of elaborate sneaker designs, drilling holes and lacing them together, and then flinging them up on the power lines: small, colorful, public statues dangling 25 feet above the ground. What interested me was that a mundane cultural activity had been transformed into a subversive aesthetic one.
Also in Williamsburg there is a person who contributes to anonymous public art by transforming local detritus. This person picks up objects that have been left outside as junk, takes them away, and then proceeds to make paintings on the objects (boxes, signs, broken pieces of furniture, etc). The cool part is that this person then returns the completed painting to the spot in which it was originally found. Then, people will simply find paintings on junk sitting aroud the neighborhood. This person does sign his or her work with a one-word name, but I don't remember what it is.
I always thought it would be a good writing project to pursue, but I've never figured out how to frame it or even how to proceed. Regardless, my interest was reawakened when I recently saw an odd-shaped painting attached to a traffic sign near my house. Someone made a painting on plywood, drilled holes in it, and bolted it onto the metal post holding up a speed limit sign. It has been there a month, and I hope to find more. The best thing is that it has gotten me conditioned to look for art among the streets.
I suposed most would consider graffiti to be anonymous public art, and I do as well. For some reason that seems like almost a canonized form, and has given me less interest. Nevertheless, I want to share a favorite piece of simple graffiti that I've seen on my weekend bike rides through the city. Near a run-down bar, whose sign advertizes "best booty in town," there is a nondescript red door on a nondescript yellow building where someone has written "cops can't dance." It cracks me up every time I see it.
I just picked up some food at the Chinese take-out place around the corner. I love the sentiment expressed on a hand written sign on the counter: "have nice every day"
From The Future Dictionary of America
media feed n. a bland, flavorless mush; easy to swallow, hard to stomach.
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3 comments:
Hey, dr. m, I saw this post this morning, printed it out, and read it aloud in my class. We had a great discussion about anonymous public art and graffiti. Students talked about the Berlin Wall as a gallery of anonymous public art as well as the walls at Ellis Island. They talked about how public art and graffiti can be used to challenge those in power, give voice to the oppressed, mark territory, express feelings, memorialize people who have died .... how it can be silly or serious or both. I think the human statues -- like the Silver Man in New York -- are perhaps the most interesting to analyze. The body as artwork. We read an Audre Lorde poem about graffiti: To Desi As Joe As Smoky The Lover of 115th Street.
All I've got is a big smile. Your class sounds wonderful. And your methods are inspiring. And flattering, of course.
i don't mean to present as anonymous.
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