By John Matos, Chris Ellis at the Janis Gallery, New York and Arthur C. Danto.
Full Text is © 1985 The Nation Company Inc.

When Tony Silver and Henry Chalfant set out a few years ago to make a film about what they perceived as the endangered culture of the South Bronx – graffiti, break dancing, disco rapping – their motives were, in a sense, ethnographic. Those forms of expression were endangered, but not quite in the way the filmmakers had supposed. By the time their Style Wars was shown on PBS to wide critical acclaim, the entire Hip-Hop culture had moved horizontally through suburban culture, where it was already beginning to fade, and vertically into the reaches of high culture, where it was appropriated by artists very different from those who had invented it. Break dancing had been incorporated into ballet, rapping doubtless awaited an operatic future and the idioms of graffiti had been internalized by painters who lived far from the violent matrices of ghetto streets. Hip-Hop culture was thereby gentrified from two directions, to the marginal advantage of its originators. Rappers, to be sure, made tapes, at best an ephemeral monument; breakers, thin and tough as rope, instructed members of the leisure classes who saw in their contortions the next thing after yoga and jogging. But the writers, as they called themselves, were scouted by the are world and, for the first time, cash became a factor for young men and women who had heretofore operated for glory and beauty alone. The most dispiriting sequence in Style Wars shows these young knights of the spray can being lionised by crass esthetes.

There can be few developments in the history of art quite so remarkable as that which began with the inscriptions “TAKI 183″ which covered New York around 1971 and culminated, almost immediately, in the full-scale subway-car calligram with its elaborate iconography, its brash signatory notations and its witty communications to a population that saw, mostly, disorderly evidence of a municipality held hostage by vandals. Sprouting abruptly as mushrooms, a spontaneous art complex as nuanced and structured as that of Siena in the trecento was in place. It had workshops, masters and apprentices; a system of nicknames or “tags” (most artists of the Renaissance are known to us by their tags: Barbarelli as Giorgione, or Big George; Tommaso Guidi as Masaccio, or Bad Tommy; Jacopo Robusti as Tintoretto, or Little Dyer; and so forth); a critical vocabulary; an esthetic code; a philosophy of art; and the elements of an art history. Since the subway system was at once art school and cathedral wall, a preponderance of awful scribbling accompanied the majestic progress of the masterpieces through dank and scary tunnels. Few who observed the visual cacophony from stops in four boroughs were prepared to make fine distinctions, and even those responsive to the masterpieces – those “bouquets of colors from the Caribbean,” as Claes Oldenburg described them – had some doubts as to whether the costs were worth the occasional splendor. And everyone was aware that laws were being broken so that the writers could, as the expression went, “get up.” There is little doubt that the consciousness of lawbreaking and its attendant risks was an important element in subway art, perhaps contributing to the decision to work monumentally, since the penalty was the same whatever the scale. But it is important to recognize that writing was not a means for breaking the law. In their own eyes the writers were not brutalizing bourgeois sensibility, like Celine, but enhancing public property to the intended gratification of all and the particular fameof him or her who took such risks for art. Artists have legendarily suffered a great deal to get up – but who took greater chances against greater odds than these?

There had always been some speculation as to how the writers’ unquestioned talent might be sundered from the squalor for which they were responsible, and now the social transition has been made, at least by the few who have forsaken the train yard for the uptown gallery and the savageries of the art market. Graffiti continues sullenly in its natural habitat, having been reduced in people’s minds to little more than a sociological problem and an administrative headache. But now we can see whether its transplanted gifts can survive – whether the moral luck through which the ivory portals have swung open to outsiders can be exploited as the beginnings of artistic careers.

This is a very different matter from the elevation of popular forms to high cultural levels. One would, for instance, have expected enfranchised artists to incorporate something of the spirit of graffiti in their works or even, as with Keith Haring, to descend into the tunnels to make a mark on public walls and expose themselves to the same set of sanctions–though to my knowledge Haring has contented himself with stationary surfaces and has not attacked the motile ones of the true subway writer. Super- or hyperrealists might even paint illusionist canvases of flamboyantly embellished subway cars, might even make them life-size. I can imagine a market growing up for salvaged panels from abandoned cars, semiartistic collectibles for authentic lofts. I can even imagine, if Rockefeller were alive, a new wing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art filled with cars purchased from the M.T.A. and generously donated for the instruction and enjoyment of future generations. My concern is with what sort of paintings the original writers can make when enabled by patronage to become studio artists working on surfaces rather more standard than the heavy-duty sneet metal of the I.R.T. The spray can may be a genuine augmentation of the artist’s toolbox, more promising perhaps than the drip-stick of Pollock, since it facilitates the staining of large expanses without any special compromise in expressive vitality. And after all, a number of jazz musicians have ascended the stage at Carnegie Hall with no notable dilution in the quality of music. Why should DAZE and CRASH not make the same transition upward to the Janis Gallery, a little farther east on 57th Street, slightly to the left of the Russian Tea Room?

I have shown some pretty classy “burners” – whole cars done in “wild style” – by CRASH and DAZE. I would place them in the A-minus class of writers – not quite up to SEEN, DONDI, BLADE, SKEME or KASE 2 (a brilliant draftsman) – but of fairly high quality on their own turf. I am struck by the fact that they continue to paint under their noms de metro rather than as John Matos and Chris Ellis, and that their show is advertised by Janis as “graffiti art” – as though they or the gallery had not enough confidence to display their work without benefit of a sociological excuse. But in candor, I think neither of them could survive without benefit of the pedigree and paraphernalia of the culture that formed them, which raises a question of paternalism at least. I was not even tempted to say something like, Not bad for a graffiti writer, since I think well of graffiti when it is good, and as graffiti writers they are good to very good. But working under the imperatives of gallery artists, DAZE and CRASH, For all the vividness of their imagery and the phosphorescence of their coloration, are pretty feeble. And I find it instructive that this should be so, since I think there is an easy answer to the question, Why? It has to do with training rather than talent. Their trouble is knowing too little and knowing how to do too little. They need the benefits of a good art school. Energy alone can only carry you so far.

CRASH is the abler artist, I would judge, and a sign of this is that he remains closer to his original success as a writer. He uses his name as a motif, for example, but works it up into a pictography of things that actually crash, as though within the frame of a comic strip. Inevitably there is a suggestion of Roy Lichtenstein, and it is not surprising that CRASH should use certain mannerisms from Pop Art. Pop must have been the first of contemporary art movements to be publicized in media accessible in the South Bronx; the writer FRED did a car with a row of Campbell soup can in 1980. Since there was very little visible difference between Warhol and a mere advertising illustration, or between Lichtenstein and a panel from a comic book, CRASH and others might have inferred that since Lichtenstein is Art, by authority of the media, and looks just like comic strips, well, comic strips too must be Art. After all, curators in exalted museums make the same inference every day: since Picasso and the primitive look so much alike …

But Lichtenstein was an artist of immense sophistication, steeped in the history of art and in the art world of his time, with a marvelous sense of the semiotics of mechanical sense of the semiotics of mechanical reproduction. What he uses wittily and allusively, CRASH employs without any sense of why it is there to begin with. Think of the use Lichtenstein makes of the dot pattern of the Ben Day screen – a mechanical effect carefully painted in by hand. CRASH picks up on such things because they are there, with no clear sense that in Lichtenstein they carry a significance wholly absent from his own work. CRASH uses huge cropped heads, and there is a clever portrait, recognizable, of Keith Haring, with little replicas of Haring’s familiar icons running around the rims of his glasses. This is certainly an inspired representation, but in execution it is flaccid: the copies of those icons have none of the energy that they radiate in Haring’s drawings. It is simply a matter of control. CRASH cannot draw, he can only copy the outsides of drawings without conveying their life. The energy in every mark Haring makes evaporates in these tentative efforts with the magic marker – so different from the authentic sweep of the spray can of which CRASH is master. He of course cannot go back to his train sides, so he must go forward. I hope he sells enough to go to the kind of school that will liberate him from the compromising status of being an exhibit himself – like that warrior who danced for the opening of the Maori art exhibit at the Met.

DAZE, I think, has made genuine progress toward becoming Chris Ellis; the forms of writing are vestigial in his work, which chiefly shows images of street people – prostitutes, toughs and musicians – but executed in his adolescent sick greens and reds. His work is affecting without being promising, and his use of collage – cutout heads from subway and bus maps – does not cover the desperate innocence of his endeavor. But here and there are scraps of energy, a certain linear vitality, that suggest potential for a more auspicious order. For all the floundering of art education against the forces of the age, one sees how finally indispensable to the existence of art its discipline is.

The show, alas, closed on December 1, and the meager catalogue put out by Janis will afford a very inadequate idea of the strengths of these writers. I dare say CRASH and DAZE will be seen again, but I fear they will cling, tragically, to the forms that gave them entry to the difficult world they hope to conquer. For a marvelous glimpse of the difficult world from which they have graduated, you cannot do better than get hold of Subway Art by Martha Cooper and Henry Chalfant (Holt, Rinehart and Winston), which is full of breathtaking photographs of writers and writing. It is worth comparing with the 1974 text The Faith of Graffiti by Merwyn Kurlansky and Jon Naar), if only to see the stupendous progress this curious art form made before it was, like so much else, co-opted by our insatiable appetite for the raw and the new.

By Daniel D. Gross & Timothy D. Gross. Full text is © International Society for General Semantics, 1993, “Words of the prophets-written on the subway walls”

According to Michel Foucault, written language pictures mental images, thus capturing the otherwise fleeting experience known as spoken language. In other words, written language depicts visibly both impressions and oral utterances, the byproduct of which is a repository for reflection. Reflection upon this visible repository may reveal clues into a people’s cultural experience and even their way of knowing (Foucault, 1970).

Some written forms of language reflect the accepted conventions more than others. For example, the words on this page reflect the standard, formal, English vernacular used in scholarly writing. On the other hand, some forms of writing may express the non-standard or perhaps, the common vernacular — graffiti, for example. Whatever the form, written expressions change. While it is possible to note the changes from written Shakespearean English to the English of today, it is also possible to note the changes that have occurred in the non-formal arena of written language. This paper traces the most obvious changes that have occurred in a non-formal aspect of writing called “graffiti.” We trace its origin from the earliest recorded incidents until the present with special emphasis given the most recent expression of graffiti – “tagging.”

The word “graffiti”, borrowed from the Italian, refers to crude drawings or inscriptions scratched or drawn on a wall or other surface and intended to be viewed by the public. This general definition emphasizes three important aspects of graffiti – place, style, and purpose.

A myriad of forces have influenced the changes that have occurred in the visible form of graffiti throughout the centuries. These changes, plus the notion that graffiti has a rhetorical purpose, suggest fertile ground for interpretation. However, the focus of this paper is primarily descriptive with an emphasis on the changing visual patterns of graffiti and their possible implications.

Data used in this study were collected from a variety of sources, including books and bathroom walls. Some of the material was collected by camera or by the freehand copy of Timothy D. Gross (1992). Though photographs of all the data were preferred, at times freehand copies were necessary because of the sheer danger of the environment in which the graffiti samples were located.

Following data collection, a form of cluster analysis (Burke, 1973, 20) supported by grounded theory (Glaser and Strauss, 1967) was utilized to analyze the data which was spread along a broad historical time line. Grounded theory provided the framework for the data to suggest its own natural categories, while cluster analysis provided a method for later interpretation.

Cluster analysis revealed three phases of visible form in the historical development of graffiti: the imitative phase, the transition phase, and the most recent, the apocryphal phase.

Plato claims that written language is primarily an imitative response (Preminger, 1975, 65). In other words, written symbols found on a page are imitating the sounds of oral speech. In like manner earliest forms of graffiti were imitations of perceived objects; for example, a prehistoric cave dweller might draw the likeness of buffalo or birds on the walls of a cave. The drawings, though crude by some standards, imitated the world as seen by early humans.

For thousands of years mimicking the perceived physical world dominated the early historical or perhaps prehistoric phase of graffiti. In this phase, drawings on the walls imitate world perceived.

Literally millennia transpired before the next major phase of graffiti appeared on the walls of civilization. This phase required the advent of “letters” which represented oral sounds. Though imitation is still the impetus, as claimed by Plato regarding all writing, the transition phase of graffiti’s historical development added letters/words to the drawings on the walls. Thus the transition phase represents a movement from symbols imitating only visible objects to symbols representing sounds as well. This phase marks the combining of two categories of symbols on the walls. However, during the earlier years, visual symbols dominated, with words dominating in the later years of the transition phase.

The movement of graffiti from visible symbol to word symbol occurred in three broad strokes covering approximately 2500 years. The first stroke includes graffiti that is primarily a social expression. The second stroke is primarily a personal expression and the third primarily a word-message expression.

With this stroke of the transition phase, graffiti’s dominant characteristics are marked by drawings accompanied by a few letters or words. The graphic illustration of the hatred and contempt sometimes evoked by the Christian faith. The graffiti was found in 1856 in one of the guardrooms of the Palatine in Rome, the site of the imperial palace. The graffiti was scratched on the wall in the first hall of the third century A. D. and shows a man kneeling to a crucified figure with an ass’s head. The inscription states that here is “Alexamenos worshipping his god.” The allusion to Christianity is evident; similar calumnies regarding the worship of an ass had already been uttered by the enemies of the Jews in the hellenistic period (source unknown).

Though the graffiti was most likely the product of a single individual, the content is social in nature. The drawing signifies a reaction of one social group’s perception against another’s. Thus the graffiti represents a stroke within the transition phase called a “social-expressive,” form combining drawings and letters/words with an emphasis on drawing.

Within this stroke of the transition phase, graffiti’s dominant characteristics are marked by drawings accompanied by words, not unlike the former stroke but with the added distinction that the graffiti was clearly the product of an individual representing a personal state of affairs.

Few people over forty have difficulty recalling graffiti. In fact, in most small towns such graffiti expressions are still common. The drawing is most likely the product of individuals expressing their own personal feelings for another or perhaps the expression of an individual’s wishes. Nonetheless, the graffiti represents a stroke within the transition phase called a “personal-expressive,” form combining, like the social-expressive stroke, drawings and letters/words with a possible emphasis on word. The major difference in this stroke and the previous one involves a movement toward the use of words over drawings and personal expression rather than social expression.

Within this third stroke of the transition phase, graffiti’s dominant characteristic is the transition away from drawings altogether to words. Though the focus of this paper has been visible form, content does enter the process of distinguishing the form of this stroke of the transition phase to a small degree, for in this stroke words dominate but the words are also part of clearly distinguished messages. The most obvious characteristic of these messages is that they are mediated by words not drawings; three word-message examples follow: (1) Jesus saves … Moses invests (2) God is dead – Signed Nietzche (3) Nietzche is dead – Signed God (4) God is dead But don’t worry, Mary’s pregnant again (Abel, 1977, 121-2).

The word-message expression, which characterizes this final stroke, brings the transition phase to completion. With its concluding development it leaves “words” as the dominant visual form instead of drawings or some combination of words and drawings. This fact is crucial for understanding the next major phase of graffiti from a historical perspective focusing on visual form.

Within the last 25 years a new form of graffiti has appeared on the walls. The name most often used to designate this new visual form is “tagging” (Lachmann, 1988; Raymond, 1989). The dominant visual impression of this phase includes words, though the graffiti only leaves a hint of words. The graffiti depicts words in disguise, thus the label apocryphal. The words both reveal and conceal their identity. They reveal themselves to the insider or initiated but conceal themselves from the uninitiated (Lachmann, 1988, 234). The insider may be of two types — individual graffitists or graffitists scribing for a gang. Upon first sight, the uninitiated may view apocryphal-phase graffiti as Chinese, Japanese, or some other oriental language because of its similarity to pictorial writing. It may resemble a crude form of hieroglyphics as well. Regardless of the comparisons used to describe it, even the novice may be able occasionally to distinguish familiar words.

As mentioned earlier, two types of apocryphal-phase graffiti exist. The graffitists in this phase call the scribing “tagging,” refering to either individual tagging or extended tagging called “gang writing.” These two types of graffiti decorate the walls of modern civilization world-wide. Some examples of tagging and gang writing from several major North American cities follow, with the samples arranged north to west then south to west. The tags are presented first followed by gang writing samples. In addition to location, the tags are deciphered when possible. Finally, descriptive explanations accompany the samples when appropriate.

Figure 1 – First of all you draw on a strong material the shape you want to stencil. Important: be sure you let some portions of the drawing not drawn. When you will cut it the material will stay in one piece and will not break apart.

Figure 2 – Then you cut the piece of material which represents your stencil. Once again: when you cut it be sure the material will stay in one piece. Otherwise you won’t have a stencil.

Figure 3 – Take a can of paint and spread you stencil around your town

Figure 4 – This is how our example should look after you paint it on a wall.

PS: I don’t know where I found these images but if someone remembers please comment on this article with the link so I can credit the creator of these images. Thanks.

You can find them and also buy their products at SprayART site.

Here is the making of some graffiti paintings (just to get an idea of what it means

Graffiti from Wiesbaden, Germany. Photos taken on September 2006. Music by PostAtomicVibez. Video by TheRealList on YouTube.

Graffiti from different german cities. Music by PostAtomicVibez. Video by TheRealList on YouTube.

To download the movie go to Revver.

To download the movie go to Revver.

Asociatia Alburnus Maior are placerea sa va invite la manifestarea culturala From Rosia Montana with ART joi, 29 martie si vineri, 30 martie 2007, orele: 18:00, in Club A, Bucuresti. Evenimentul isi propune o abordare culturala a subiectului Rosia Montana, pe aceeasi directie pe care si-a propus sa mearga si festivalul FanFest. Intentia organizatorilor este de a polariza, prin arta si comunicare, atentia publicului asupra campaniei “Salvati Rosia Montana!”.

Program

Joi, 29 martie

• 18:00 – Lectura de poezie – Ovia Herbert si Catalina George, Poeticile Cotidianului
• 18:45 – Recitare de versuri hip-hop – Andrei Vulpescu, MC Naiba de la Da-Hood
• 19:15 – Concert Oliver

Vineri, 30 martie

• 18:00 – Teatru-forum Rosia Montana, Trupa Art-Fusion
• 20:00 – Concert Bucharest AV (Audio-Video Fusion), Classic vs. Electro – music on live visuals

Va asteptam cu drag,
Echipa “Salvati Rosia Montana!”

Eveniment realizat cu sprijinul: Club A – www.cluba.ro / Radio Alternativ – www.alternativ.ro / Sapte Seri – www.sapteseri.ro / Port – www.port.ro / Dor de duca – www.dordeduca.ro / Metropotam – www.metropotam.ro / Best Music – www.bestmusic.ro / Metalhead – www.metalhead.ro … carora le multumim.

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The Alburnus Maior Association is very happy to invite you to the cultural manifestation From Rosia Montana with ART. It will take place at Bucharest’s ‘Club A’ on 29-30 March 2007. From Rosia Montana with Art aims to use culture to put forward a social issue; very much in the same way as FanFest does each year at Rosia Montana. The aim of the organizers is to use art and communication to mobilize the pulic’s attention on the ‘Save Rosia Montana!’ campaign.

Event Program

Thursday 29 March

• 18:00 Poetry Reading – Ovia Herbert and Catalina George
• 18:45 Hip-hop Poetry Reading – Andrei Vulpescu, MC Naiba – Da-Hood
• 19:15 Concert performing Oliver

Friday 30 March

• 18:00 Rosia Montana interactive theater with Art-Fusion
• 20:00 Concert performing Bucharest AV (Audio-Video Fusion) ‘Classic vs. Electro’

We hope that the information is of interest to you,
The Save Rosia Montana Team

Thank you goes to: Club A – www.cluba.ro / Radio Alternativ – www.alternativ.ro / Sapte Seri – www.sapteseri.ro / Port – www.port.ro / Dor de duca – www.dordeduca.ro / Metropotam – www.metropotam.ro / Best Music – www.bestmusic.ro / Metalhead – www.metalhead.ro.