Graffiti Gratification

Although a lot of people disagree with this I have always thought that “graffiti art” was an oxymoron. “Vandalism” was my own personal definition regarding this urban phenomenon (blight?) and I’ve pretty much stuck to this opinion right up through the popularity of Keith Haring. But it seems to be the nature of humankind to “tag” the dwellings and otherwise empty spaces clear back to when we were frying up saber toothed tiger shank for breakfast and Napoleon’s soldiers scratched their initials on the flanks of the Sphinx.

When I was a kid, writing on the wall was just something other kids did above the urinals at YMCA camp: “Players with short bats should stand close to the plate,” etc. The major “writing” in NYC (and elsewhere) in the 70’s and 80’s just made no sense to me and I was affronted by the usurpation of my own personal space by chronically untalented vandals. At the time I totally supported the ban on selling spray paint to anyone under 21 and I was pretty appalled when the art cognoscenti became victims of some very clever entrepreneurs; paying big bucks for what was essentially unlawful activity. However, the graffiti “movement” did do something positive. That is, it occasionally drew out some real talent, if only in the use of spray paint.

I’m not sure when I began to realize that “street art” started to achieve credibility in my own backward mind. I do know it was a slow process as I got stuck in my reverence for impressionism and, yes, some facets of very clever modern art. I loosened up somehow and was able to be thrilled by something other than Monet haystacks. It was a long time coming and I was reminded of this by a mural I encountered last weekend on a wall at Houston St. and the Bowery. Full disclosure: I should tell you I was on my way to see this epic mural and ducked into a large Crate & Barrel store to cool off; but the fact is my goal was actually C&B and the mural was truly a result of peripheral vision in my excellent left eye. I should tell you I got whiplash from its immediate attraction but, hey, when a relatively mundane gift for a mundane special occasion is the reason for existence at that particular point in time, and it’s a hot day, who’s going to give up some excellent air conditioning for what looked like, from a distance, some major graffiti?

You know where I’m going with this. Two Brazilian brothers named Otavio and Gustavo Pandolfo have taken another step up the ladder of spray painted coolness. The brothers call themselves “Os Gemeos” and some Portuguese linguist could translate that for me, but I don’t really care. This mural is fairly audacious if only judged for its size: about 17 feet high and 50 feet long. It’s full of storybook imagery and magical realism and it’s like reading a fanciful (and sometimes melancholic) comic book in that one needs to start on the left and follow its flow to the end on the right. There are many details and you have to take your time not to miss any. I know it’s basically a work of complicated whimsy but I’m as susceptible to that as any other adult with inner child problems. The mural is funny and weird and sometimes thematically dark but it sure does the job it’s supposed to. That is, make you completely forget the gravy boat and the cunning variety of kitchen spices in your shopping bag. I cringe at my acquired urbanism and sort of feel like I am a part of the joke of the mural, in that I need an occasional slap in the face to let go of some of that big city veneer I’ve acquired.

I am still very pleased to have stumbled across this splash of color on the Bowery and I’ll make a point of it to go back; Crate & Barrel will be secondary. I’m so damned plebian in my tastes and manner and so out-of-it in what I perceive as great art. But, then, there really is something to be said for great air conditioning too.