“Stain,” Pejac
Stumbled upon this on Facebook. Given the recent resurgence of Banksy in the news (did everyone catch the article on why Banksy may be a woman?), I thought this was interesting.
Spanish Artist Pejac Spreads Poetic Street Art around European Cities
I believe that the film Wasteland answers an important question that was brought up in class: “Who can actually create art?” Of course there is the stereotypical answer that anybody can create art. However, I believe that question can be refined to focus on the creation of influential and lasting art. I believe that the answer to that question comes down to artistic privilege. In other words, only those who are artistically skilled enough to incur change, cause disruption, or gain precedence (politically, socially or even economically) can create influential art. I believe that is the reason why certain pieces of public art are cherished over others. This is why childish graffiti is painted over by the city and why The Charging Bull is still standing. It is also why Vik Muniz’s art, portraying the catadores, became globally famous.
Muniz said something that stood out to me. He claimed that he reached a point in his career where he’d like to give back to his roots. The only way he knew how to do that was through his art. This statement depicts his great understanding of art and the artistic process. He realizes that he has the ability to cause social change via his own artwork. By depicting the catadores in an unconventional piece of art, portraying them via the same garbage that makes up their livelihoods, Muniz was able to make them known worldwide. Muniz himself commented on the extent of his artistic skill and privilege. He notes that he wants to focus on a modern twist on art, and break away from the contemporary, depicting his confidence in his skill.
By some stroke of luck, I had the opportunity to visit Montreal last weekend. Although I spent a full 24 hours on buses to get there and back, the ride was worth it so that I could experience a new town, new culture, and see two of my best friends that go to school there.
I naturally couldn’t help but notice how radically different everything in the city was from what I know of in New York. One thing in particular was the street art. Everywhere I went, there were murals painted on buildings and pieces of graffiti everywhere. It seemed welcome rather than rejected. Honestly, I loved that these pieces were really all over the place. It added some extra character to the city and was a point that vastly contrasted against the typical New York mindset: graffiti is bad; it isn’t art and needs to be covered up rather than appreciated.
A mural seen on Rue St-Laurent in Montreal.
This point couldn’t be more clearly seen than in the tearing down of 5Pointz, an abandoned building in Long Island City (you can see it by Court Square on the 7 train!) that was often referred to as “the graffiti Mecca”. Graffiti artists from all over the world would come and tag the building, adding on their own piece to the murals. Recently, though, the building was painted over and torn down by the city so that co-ops could be built in the space.
Personally, I was always against the tearing down of 5Pointz and that’s why I particularly appreciated the street art in Montreal. Do you guys think that graffiti and unofficial street art should be considered art like everything else? Also, do you think that the building should have been torn down?
A view of the partially torn down 5Pointz “graffiti Mecca” from the 7 train.
In 1999, artists Kristin Jones and Andrew Ginzel had installed The Metronome in Union Square. The art installation is comprised of 3 pieces, the first being a centerpiece comprised of rippling, concentric circles adorned by a gold, halo-like embellishment around an opening in the wall and a slab of rock. The second is an LED display with 15 digits. The first 7 digits represent the amount of time that has passed since midnight, in hours (2 digits), minutes (2 digits), seconds (2 digits) and tenths of a second (1 digit). The final 7 digits follow a similar format, except they are in reverse order and represent the amount of time left in the day. The 3 digits in the middle, measuring tenths of a second, are meant to be mind-bogglingly fast and represent the fleetingness of time, along with the fast-pace of New York City. The final piece of the installment is a half-sphere that is part gold and part black and that mimics the phases of the moon.
The LED clock from The Metronome installation.
The entire installment deals with conceptions of time and utilizes symbolism to do so. The slab of rock, for example, is meant to represent geological passing of time. The opening in the wall emits smoke and sound at midnight and noon each day, to mark significant times. The sphere, of course, represents the lunar phases and passing of time on that level. The most intricate piece, however, must be the LED clock, which has matching halves that increase or decrease accordingly. They perfectly fit together, measuring the amount of time since the last midnight and the amount of time until the next midnight, functioning almost as a “modern-day hourglass” as described by Atlas Obscura. The installment as a whole is one of the most confusing public pieces in the city.
The centerpiece of The Metronome in Union Square.
Ultimately, our group chose to research The Metronome because its complex symbolism and links to mankind’s conception of and obsession with time. Humanity, as a whole, has a tendency to constantly need to understand time: how much of it has passed, how much we have left, and (especially for New Yorkers) how little we have to spare. The clock captures this idea perfectly, as the viewer is initially drawn to the 3 center digits, changing exceptionally fast, that connect how much time has passed with how much time is left. Literally and symbolically, you are stuck between past and future, quickly changing from each moment that is considered to be the “present”.
