Something Old, Something New: Graffiti Art of NYC

New York City is a concrete canvas splashed in a neon rainbow of aerosol paint. Around every corner, colorful neologism pops from the blank brick walls. “Scratchiti” covers subway car windows; advertisements are slandered with profanity and scratched out words. Murals down in SoHo and the Villages tower over New Yorkers and tourists rushing by, beckoning social change or provoking thought. Paintings disappear, reappear, and then disappear again. It is ever-changing, infinite, and most importantly: profound.

When I was six years old, every time my parents took me to the playground, I passed a tired, abandon warehouse under the West Side Highway. The brick walls were as colorful as a storybook: blue and green monsters with their plethora of eyes danced into one another. Aretha Franklin and Ella Fitzgerald sang an eternal duet to Muhammed Ali throwing a final blow to an anonymous opponent’s skull. The walls stared at me, following my every footstep as I trekked on to the swings and slides. My parents told me that was called “graffiti.” Although they claimed it was “vandalism,” I found it profoundly beautiful. It was good as any painting hanging in the MoMA or the Guggenheim. I also naïvely thought that like museum art, they too would last forever.

Now, at the age of eighteen, I walk by that same warehouse, and nothing but white plaster covers those same brick walls. Although I never got to say goodbye to Ms. Franklin or Fitzgerald on the walls, I know that in some shape or form graffiti will always be a part of the NYC landscape. It gives a sense of rebellion, release, and community that people crave.

Graffiti in New York City dates as far back as the late 1960s. The civil rights movement birthed a new generation of rebellious youth. However, “‘there were writers that were African American, Latino – Puerto Rico, Dominican, Cuban – Jewish, Asian, and it became one unit – one family’” (“When New York Was Graffiti Central”). The artists were just as elusive and ephemeral as their art. People such as JOE 182 were on the run, but “nobody could catch them. They were just these mysterious figures” (“Graffiti In Its Own Words”). Evading capture was all part of the fun in graffiti. These rebels always felt “a panic in the act…an eye over one’s shoulder for the oncoming of the authority…”(“The Faith Of Graffiti”). People competed to be the loudest and the quietest all at once.

Despite this dog-eat-dog world of spontaneity, graffiti artists from all over the city always felt a sense of community. For artists such as MICO, the commonality they all share with each other was they all “’wanted to be famous…everyone could get autographs.’” Others, such as the artist LEE, think of their spot as “’a speakeasy, everyone came and traded stories’” (“Graffiti In Its Own Words”). These competing artists find common ground in their work: at the end of the day, they all just want to have some good stories to tell.

With every social or artistic movement, though, there is always opposition. People against graffiti argued that “anyone who glorifies graffiti needs to answer one question: If your home were tagged during the night without your consent, would you welcome the new addition to your décor or would you immediately call a painter, if not the police?” (“Graffiti Is Always Vandalism”). Unfortunately, graffiti has also been notoriously connected to violence and gang activity. Ever since the 1977 blackouts that led to mass rioting and looting, the MTA and NY government has cracked down on subway graffiti. In 1984, vandal Bernard Goetz gunned down four people in the subway, which led to the police focusing on subway vandals. Blogger Benjamin Kabak remembers “’the whole atmosphere – trains were covered in graffiti and stations were dark and it didn’t feel safe to be underground.’” By the end of the same year, over two thousand four hundred graffiti artists were arrested (“When New York Was Graffiti Central”).

The opposition did not stop their crusade at arresting individuals. In 2013, a complex developer John Wolkoff took to Queens to destroy the graffiti art Mecca known as 5Pointz. Many artists campaigned to save the graffiti landmark, and even gathered up to 20,000 landmark forms to hand to the Landmarks Commission. However, before Marie Flaguel (the leader of the campaign) could hand over the forms, Wolkoff brought the police to 5Pointz and painted over all fifteen hundred paintings (“Graffiti Mecca 5Pointz Erased Overnight”). The graffiti community worldwide was shocked. Both admirers and artists gathered at the ruined warehouse for evening candlelight vigil. Graffiti artist Just, who had two paintings at 5Pointz, saw this more than a death of a landmark. “’This is not just about graffiti — it’s about the unity of people who met here from all over the world…” (“Night Falls, and 5Pointz, a Graffiti Mecca, Is Whited Out in Queens”).

Based off of the information given, it is easy for someone to say that graffiti is a dead art form. This statement could not be more false. During drives out of the city, my eyes drift towards the buildings and warehouses that line the. The infamous “PK KID” tag lines the urban scenery. I’ve seen multiples of this tag in the most outrageously dangerous locations such as a water tower and a very tall billboard sign. I walk through the streets of Brighton Beach, Brooklyn to see massive, bubbly letters scrawled across playgrounds and storefront gates. When I grab food with friends on the weekend, I still see the Lower East Side often graffiti bombed with large murals of provocative and witty images of disobedience.

I live by one of the most active graffiti spots in the city: the Freedom Tunnel. Located underneath Riverside Park, this active Amtrak tunnel is a hotspot for graffiti bombers to let their creative sparks fly. The tunnel got its name by the artist Chris Pape, who went under the name of Freedom. For decades, he tagged the walls with his name and his massive murals, such as a version of Antioch’s Venus de Milo (“Exploring an Active Amtrak Tunnel Under the Upper West Side”). A former classmate of mine used to bring me to the mouth of the tunnel, calling himself an “Urban Explorer,” and he often ventured deep into the tunnel. Moses Gates, the author of Hidden Cities, is one of these explorers. In his writing, he expresses his deep sentiment for the art of graffiti and the tunnel itself. Gates firmly asks the opposing forces “‘what’s the point [of painting over people’s work]? …The reason New York will never get rid of graffiti is that everyone writes graffiti in New York’” (“Exploring an Active Amtrak Tunnel Under the Upper West Side”).

The support for graffiti art in New York City has an international interest as well. British graffiti artist Banksy is at the forefront of modern day graffiti. In October of 2013, the pop-culture icon launched a New York “art show” called “Better Out Than In,” in which the planned “’to live here, react to things, see the sights—and paint on them.’” He admitted in an interview with Village Voice that many of his paintings were quickly removed or defaced. Despite this dilemma, he continued with his unconventional art show, saying “’to be honest…I’m figuring a lot of this out as I go along. Which is one way to keep it fresh, I suppose’” (“Village Voice Exclusive: An Interview With Banksy, Street Art Cult Hero, International Man of Mystery”). His work continues to inspire artists across the globe, and even landed him an Oscar-nominated documentary Exit Through The Gift Shop in 2010.

No one can deny graffiti art’s presence in this amazing city, and little evidence can contest its importance. In fact, it was graffiti’s dark and violent past that inspired Mayor Ed Koch in the 1980s to reform the criminal justice system and clean up the subways of New York City. In the 1990s, graffiti art was a driving force of hip-hop culture, being just as bombastic and exuberant as the music. In today’s culture, artists like Banksy use graffiti to bring social awareness to global issues such as the war in the Middle East or police brutality. Graffiti art is a generation’s (any generation) colorfully loud way of saying “listen up, New York! We’re here, this is happening, what are you going to do about it?” The gargantuan, bubbly neon letters and provocative stencils light up this city just as much as any skyscraper does. Graffiti is the skyline within the skyline: it is ever-changing, infinite, and most importantly: here to stay.

 

 

Works Cited

Apiento. “Esquire / The Faith Of Graffiti / Norman Mailer.” Esquire. Esquire, 6 June 2012. Web. 27 Sept. 2014.

Babcock, Laurel, and Bob Fredericks. “Graffiti Mecca 5 Pointz Erased Overnight.” Nypost.com. New York Post, 19 Nov. 2013. Web. 27 Sept. 2014.

Buckley, Cara, and Marc Santora. “Night Falls, and 5Pointz, a Graffiti Mecca, Is Whited Out in Queens.” The New York Times. The New York Times, 19 Nov. 2013. Web. 27 Sept. 2014.

Donald, Heather Mac. “Graffiti Is Always Vandalism.” Nytimes.com. The New York Times, 16 July 2014. Web. 27 Sept. 2014.

Ehrlich, Dimitri, and Gregor Ehrlich. “Graffiti in Its Own Words.” NYMag.com. New York Magazine, 3 July 2007. Web. 27 Sept. 2014.

Hamilton, Keegan. “Village Voice Exclusive: An Interview With Banksy, Street Art Cult Hero, International Man of Mystery.” Villagevoice.com. The Village Voice, 09 Oct. 2013. Web. 27 Sept. 2014.

Kensinger, Nathan. “Exploring an Active Amtrak Tunnel Under the Upper West Side.” Curbed NY. Curbed NY, 21 Mar. 2013. Web. 27 Sept. 2014.

Summers, Chris. “When New York Was Graffiti Central.” BBC News. BBC, 8 Aug. 2014. Web. 27 Sept. 2014.