I can appreciate the technique and gleam of a clean oil painting but still prefer to see incomprehensible symbols smeared with shit on the wall. Is art supposed to be pretty? Deep down we aren’t pristine. We fester in hate, violence, tragedy, and greed but still manage to put on a happy face. Our intellect allows us not to be over taken by these disastrous realities. We learn to appreciate small things. We learn to grab a hold of fleeting glimpses of beauty in the sandblasted concrete of our existence. Some people have all the artistic technique in the world but still cannot communicate with their pictures. There may be composition and detailed perspective but soul is lacking. Then there are the artists with no skill who produce thousands of pictures that everyone around them thinks are ugly. They might even have to hide them away; the truth of the pigment on surface may be too much for the average person to bear. Which artist will outlast the other?

The parallels between modern Graffiti and Art Brut are many although they certainly differ enough to be classified as separate genres. To a great extent both types of artists are self taught and not guided by art trends and commercialism. Graffiti was given a small side bar with in the history of the Art Brut movement along with the art of the insane, children, mediums, hermits, prisoners and other pariahs. The Sun Kings carvings into walls are reminiscent of modern day Graffiti’s scribing (in which rocks or drill bits are used to scratch names into windows or glass.) However, it is self evident that the onslaught of graffiti that emerged in 1930’s Los Angeles, moved across the nation to New York and Philadelphia in the 1960’s, and worldwide shortly after is too broad in scope to be lumped together within the limited confines of Art Brut. Both tend to be fragile and impermanent. Graffiti is whitewashed and fades away. Delicate breadcrumb sculptures fall apart overtime and non archival paper disintegrates. Both forms of art struggle with coming to terms with mass discovery and commoditization. Pure forms of each type of art have nothing to do with commercial success. This is what makes them so similar to each other and also so different from almost every other creation within the realm of art. They are nasty Siamese twin brothers struggling to separate at once from each other and the rest of the world.

Jean Dubuffet, the brainchild and unabashed biter of Art Brut, was known to tell Art Brut artists who were one the verge of traditional artistic success that their increased presence and respect within traditional art communities would conversely diminish these same standings within the Art Brut world. He was trying to keep his “creation” pure, and (most likely) was trying to save all the good ideas for himself. I don’t blame him. This seesaw effect within the different subcultures is strikingly parallel within the graffiti world. Respect is almost always diminished on the streets among graffiti writers when one of them meets with financial or critical fine art success using the framework and concepts taken from graffiti. The only exceptions, perhaps, are artists (such as Twistoe) who had prolifically bombed hard prior to their success. If you’ve put in enough damage in the urban cityscape I guess you get a pass to make a little bit of cash off of your experiences. The writers who really grill shit will not get as much hater-ade as others but jealousy will always be there to some extent. Sometimes it’s hard to see people come up when you aren’t living well. Money is not real, only the love of it is.

Lofty philosophical notions are (supposedly) what lowered the respect for crossover Art Brut artists. Dubuffet and others felt that these raw works lost purity when exposed to commercial success. Perhaps he secretly didn’t want the prisoners to go free and the insane to get well because that would cease the production of “true” masterpieces. However, even with success the Outsider artist would still have the same medium and materials to work with. The grade of gouache and paper might increase but they would still be working with gouache and paper. The graffiti writer who attempts to pedal his wares or introduce his art into a more refined artistic community is faced with a unique challenge. He has to find a way to translate his process and technique to different materials. It’s an abrupt change to take an artistic vision out of its breeding ground of cold steel and gnarly concrete and replace it in the vast emptiness of pristine canvas. Something has to be lacking, at least to some extent, in the translation.

The physical setting is often as important, if not more important, to a piece of graffiti than the actual paint or ink markings themselves. A “balls to the wall” spot with a sloppy throw up might garner more acclaim than a fancy multicolored piece on wall in the middle of nowhere. A little danger gives spark to the creative process. The emotional setting is also different. Sometimes it’s easier to paint something when you only have a few minutes until the cops show up as opposed to having a full year to over think your work. Turmoil invites pure instinct and improvisation. It’s that magical time when you can feel creation happening, new ideas gushing from a vast well of our collective unconscious.

Art Brut had the double edged sword of having a figure head that made decisions and edicts on artistic theory and philosophy within the field. There were, of course, others within Dubuffet’s circle but he was certainly daddy to the movement. Much to his chagrin, many of the others had no problem reaping financial gains off of Art Brut. They would often acquire works considered of great importance for pennies on the dollar. Most Graffiti writers would simply not allow themselves to be financially ripped off like that. While many of them are certainly on the fringes of society most of them were bred with fierce streets smarts and the will to survive. This is the reason why the larceny and shoplifting culture has emerged so prolifically amongst writers. They allow themselves to be forced to use mainstream society’s game pieces but they don’t follow the rules. Graffiti also does not have one central figure head whose words and opinions are absolute dogma. Although almost any writer you could ask would probably claim to be that person himself. What almost any writer would agree on is that “graffiti art “on canvas or paper is entirely different from real Graffiti in the streets. True Art Brut artists are by definition untrained while Graffiti has its own unique visual lexicon (stars, arrows, swirls. Loops, whips, connections, splashes, bubbles, bits, sperm shots, shines, etc.) that have been handed down generations. At the initial conception of Graffiti it was truly a raw art form but an artistic lineage was quickly developed. The story goes that in New York the first masterpiece was developed by Super Cool 223 who outlined a tag with a Niagara fat cap with a standard stock tip thus paving the way for piecing as we know it today. Kids copped styles real quick and a new beast was created, one with infinite permutations, variations, and nuances. Graffiti slipped away from the realm of Art Brut. Class was in session. Kids would meet at the writers’ bench in New York (129ths st. and Grand Concourse) to watch the iron horse go by filled top to bottom with pieces. Kids in Philly would walk whole bus routes savagely tagging the whole way and constantly inventing new scripts.

Spray painted messages are cruising back and forth across the world highballing on freight trains. In the underground passengers are frightened because incomprehensible colors and symbols cover the windows obstructing their view. Each wall that is painted is like a soldier standing firm ground. Each train painted is like a bottle in the ocean. Someone might see a message from a world away, from a lifetime away. The recipient might have the knowledge or the skill to decipher the cryptic code and peep game on style. Perhaps the recipient of the gift is a neophyte who does not have the knowledge or skill to decode the complex typography but has something awakened inside of them by the brilliant colors and complex serifs. When you throw a bottle into the ocean it might not be discovered by its intended recipient. Would you be able to understand a message in a bottle written by someone in the past? How about someone in the future? There is a deep subconscious symbolism imbued in both Graffiti and Art Brut. The shriek of like and pain is unmistakable. It defies explanation and refuses to be dismissed. Words are still potent weapons but only if they are painted 10 feet tall in bold colors or caustically etched with acid into glass.

Is it better to fight the good fight and loose than to have a nice regular life? Is it worth it to succeed financially if you fail ideologically?

KAI1

kai1@artasauthority.com