But is it Art?

In the town where I grew up there was a shop called ‘But is it Art’ that sold objects and trinkets that were loosely related to the subject of art. It was one of the better shops in town, a place you always looked first when birthdays and Christmas came around, but I don’t think anybody was ever able to answer the question with a positive or a negative.

The same question popped into my mind recently when I decided to visit the ‘Né Dans La Rue’ (Born in the Street) exhibition at the Fondation Cartier. The idea of the show is to tell the history of graffiti and street art from its beginnings in New York up until today, with several new specially commissioned pieces displayed both inside and outside the building. The exhibition is an incredibly rich one, and a visitor could spend hours looking through the documents and watching the fascinating films that accompany the show, but I’m not sure that they would be able to answer the question afterwards either.

Nevertheless, if you are planning a trip to Paris before the end of the year (the show ends on November the 29th) this is one exhibition you really should try to catch. The photos that I have included here are all from the perimeter of the building as photography inside the show is strictly forbidden. However, thinking back now, it is not the artwork inside the show that sticks in my mind, but the socio-historic elements, and these would be very difficult to catch in coloured pixels anyway.

I have never been to New York and remember little of the 1970s, but I was an impressionable teenager when the shockwaves of this movement arrived in the suburbs and small towns of England in the 1980s. I was fascinated therefore to see the collection of tag sketchbooks which were similar to those friends of mine kept, and hear the music again that was so tightly linked to this world. I never got involved, feeling that I would simply be mimicking somebody else’s culture, and I still feel today that this is creation that you have to live.

Was it the intention of the curators to organise the exhibition in this way? Walking around, looking at the hand-sketched cards advertising rap events and films showing people spraying tags at these same shows, it is impossible not to see this as anything other than a complete integrated movement. As a juxtaposition, films also show the New York of the early 70s, a bankrupt city where immigrant groups had been left to fend for themselves in the tough city centre, and a place the rich only ever visited when working.

Tagging was therefore a way to show people in power that there were others who existed and who also had a voice. This becomes even clearer in the film ‘Pixo’ which centres on gangs in Sao Paolo in Brazil today. They have developed a new form of tagging known as Pixaçao which is almost a language in itself. One illiterate youth in the film is shown struggling with printed text on a poster, but then quickly translating all the pixaçao messages written on surrounding walls.

These are all powerful messages. A notebook from one tagger lists how and where other taggers had been killed in action (crushed by trains or shot mostly!), whilst a full subway maintenance worker outfit in a glass container shows how the taggers disguised themselves in order to reach their train canvases. Where was the art though? It was one of the most interesting sociological exhibitions I had visited in a long time, but when I entered the room where the contemporary ‘inspired by graffiti’ creations stood, I couldn’t help but feel that they seemed weak and diluted against the vibrancy of the originals.

‘But is it art?’ I asked myself again before taking the staircase up to the shop. I had come full circle, finding myself again in a place where objects have price tags. I bought a t-shirt, a cute one for a child which was covered in the tags of some of the featured artists. A tag, a label, Cartier. I don’t know if it is art, but what shows acceptance more than capitalist consumption?

Né dans la Rue
Fondation Cartier pour l'art Contemporain
261 Boulevard Raspail, 75014
Until November 29th

If you are interested in urban creation, you can also download my free Street Art walk.

No Tag

Nathalie from Avignon pointed out this week on her captivating blog some problems that exist in her local environment with graffiti and tagging. The suggestion was that cities today, even such ancient and architecturally pleasing ones as Avignon, have few if any remaining sacred environments. The problem is universal, with ancient doors, freshly painted white walls, shop windows and even churches being seen as acceptable surfaces to paint on.

Her pictures set me thinking. Who are the taggers, why do they tag and what prevents them from tagging? Being fascinated (naturally!) by invisibility, my interest in the subject stems from the contrast between the invisibility of the perpetrators and the distinctly visible traces they leave behind on the face of the city. This simple fact seems to explain many of the issues involved.

Is invisibility always something that we choose? Research conducted amongst taggers and graffiti artists around the world has shown that they share some basic traits, notably that they are predominantly male and generally between the ages of 12 and 25. However, there are no defined links to any particular social or racial background, meaning that the phenomenon has spread to almost all geographical locations.

Without wanting to fall into the traps of cod psychology, this is clearly an age where individuals are asking many questions and building personal identities. Young men have traditionally had difficulties with self-expression, but may also be wondering where their future place in society will be. Tagging gives them the opportunity to create an imagined identity (the tag) and to impose this identity on their surroundings. On a more visceral level, it also gives them the thrill of climbing up onto rooftops and doing something illegal.

On a technical level, tags exist rather than more advanced multi-coloured pieces simply because not everybody has the talent or the time to work on larger works. Their creations are known as bombing, a night-time activity based on repitition and rapidity. If they find themselves with more time in a more hidden location, they will create a throw-up, a larger two-tone version of the tag. The only aesthetic criteria considered important is that it should be recognisible and easy to produce in the dim orange glow of the streetlight.

Are there any parts of the city that remain sacred and untouchable today? Research seems to suggest that city councils that are proactive in this field and offer sanctioned zones suffer less problems, although it would be naive to think that this would put a stop to an activity based around a certain rejection of authority. Near my home though, I discovered one shop owner who had found an original solution. The shutter which protects their establishment at night is decorated with a mural painting on which a 'No Tag' message has been added. To one side, they have added a black panel which they have invited taggers to use. To date, this system seems to be working and their mural has remained tag free.

Does this suggest that if our streets were more creative environments there would be less tagging? On a very basic level, many parts of our cities can be seen as a series of flat surfaces, devoid of character and interest. City authorities have no problem sanctioning advertising on many of these surfaces, yet reject street art installations. It would seem to be an experiment worth trying to change some of these parts of the city into canvases of free expression.