I have a friend in Denver, a ninja-type friend, who likes to ride his bicycle around to see the sights. He has an eye for art that lives up on the sides of buildings, and a knack for capturing it in a way that’s spontaneous and dynamic. His never-ending quest to capture that energy gave me momentum to continue the mission myself in another country.
The little graphic tags in the Denver neighborhood alleys would catch my eye, secret communiques from shadowy artists. They weren’t the spraycan scribbles of territory-markers’ names alone, but the small illustrations of those who took a bit more artistic license to create their mark. And it felt good to see them repeated across the city, and to imagine the footsteps of their creators and the roads that lead them to any particular blank piece of urban landscape, what the weather was like or what they were thinking while they painted or penned their mark.
Wellington is teeming with street art, obviously commissioned and encouraged. The other day on the way home from the farmer’s market I was lucky to catch an artist at work. The next day it was all done, and one of those less-visually-adept taggers couldn’t resist putting their own uninspired mark on the fresh piece (see lower lefthand corner).