Raw, edgy, striking, exciting … illegal. The train is a good place to start—where it all originated. If you can bring yourself to tear your eyes from your iPad or (for the more old-fashioned of us) newspaper, then you might catch a glimpse of it. A bright blur or colourful flash: graffiti. Since the birth of tagging in the mid-1970s, splashes of paint have been inflicted upon city walls—the incendiary mark of night writers, a guerrilla network of avid youth armed with two things: spray paint and a keen eye. An aerosol artist needs to be on the lookout for two things—a good wall and the authorities. For these elusive painters, graffiti is a means of self-expression, like most art is. By spray-painting a city, ‘graffers’ leave their mark on society, assert their identity and gain respect and admiration from their cohort. For some, it is the risk-induced adrenaline fix that has them hooked on graffiti, but for most it is the satisfaction of crafting and creating in an innovative space. But when the sun comes up and the commuters begin their day, what does the world see? For a long time tags and throw-ups were seen as acts of vandalism, synonymous with societal decline. Even as a child I remember the uncomfortable chill that came with the sight of something criminal. For many, graffiti may indeed be threatening. It is an artistic indication of felonious operations, and that makes people feel unsafe. However, in the late twentieth century, emerging from the graffiti underworld came an explosive new movement: street art. But hang on, they are the same thing, right? Wrong. The boundaries may be blurry, but few graffiti purists... The rest of this article is available to subscribers of Eyeline
Rekier Oner, 2012
Graffiti Bins – photographed down Hosier Lane Melbourne, 2010
