Art as Authority

by KAI1





Times are tough all over and shit is bound to get worse. The world has its collective eyes closed to the problems that fester underneath the skin of our culture and I hate to tell you sweetie, but help isn’t on the way. I have my eyes closed as well, and I’m not watching my back either. I’m just cutting through the stillness of the night air, putting pigment on surface and watching only for a second as the ink begins to drip. Then it’s on to the next spot because you have to keep it moving, and remember never look back because they might be gaining on you.

The pain of life isn’t as sharp when nothings behind you or in front of you and there’s only pigment to surface, pigment to surface. The dance makes the desperation dissipate one signature at a time, and makes the first drop of water that your adrenaline scorched throat tastes all that more sweet.





I can feel it in my gut that the universe is about to reach its melting point and that a tough decision is going to have to be made, but sadly by this point, it will be too late. Art always foreshadows major cataclysmic changes. If graffiti, arguably the most important form of postmodern art, is any indication then this is an epoch of broken rules. It just may be the most important and vital form of expression that will be left with no economic viability for the artists, and only a predestined road of self-destruction. On the other hand, major corporations have no problems making millions off of their soulless ersatz graffiti appropriated from the street.








The irony is lost on the lawmakers who’ve raised the classification of graffiti to a felony everywhere they’ve been able to. The fact that graffiti flourishes heavier than ever right now, despite looming penalties and more drama, speaks to the true savant like libertarianism of the dedicated practitioners. These fucked up kids who continue to do their thing despite hatred amongst their peers and mainstream society alike, are not thinking of the sociopolitical ramifications of their vandalism. They just want to go for theirs and get their name up. They’re back on the streets night after night despite court cases and probation. They’re letting go of their girlfriends and their families to embark on perhaps the most important journey that one can go on. They let go off all the things that are supposed to matter to a person because they’ve found something greater amongst the cold steel or dilapidated concrete.





Any kind of art without a doubt saves both lives and destroys them. This can’t be disputed, but within the graffiti culture, mortality is an ever-looming presence. A painting might bring a smile to the face of a sick kid causing a cellular shift within him which makes him get better. Kids also get blasted in their head because of the three letters that they write on the wall. The fine art world doesn’t seem as ugly as the seedy graffiti community at first glance, but we only have to take the debacle of Guillermo Vargas Habacuc and the dead dog, to see that foul things are festering in both scenes.

It is hard making the transition from a scrub graffiti kid to fine artist. It has happened gradually over time, so subtle that maybe I didn’t even notice myself. At first no one liked what I painted, not even my friends. They were hardest on me and pushed me to progress – mastering the art of painting and constructing letters burned hotter inside me than anything I had ever felt. After a decade, I finally evolved into my own style, but at the same time, I also discovered the dialogue which is the fine art world. It’s timeline, exponentially larger than the relatively young history of graffiti. I found myself part of a most important movement in a crucial time in history, and I didn’t even know how I got there.








I got there the same way as the rest of the soldiers. Desperation and hunger pushed me to do something that was against all the rules. I was desperate for something that felt real no matter how fake it really was. I was hungry for adventures and journey. No writer would ever ask you what a piece of graffiti “means” or “is about”. For another writer to ask you that question would be laughable since you both intrinsically understand “what it’s about” and in reality you both have a duality of purpose. You both “get” why you destroy property. Deep down it is in you’re blood; you couldn’t stop if you wanted to. You do it because that’s what you do. Charles Bukowski talked about writing poetry and that good poems are the ones that are written when they are bubbling up inside of you. It’s the same way with graffiti, when you’re inspired you just have to step out of the way and let it come. You just have to free your mind and let your hand be loose. All you have to do is laugh and walk into the night with paint stained hands. Just try not to get shot by the fools that are meaning to mug you as you pass by a convenience store. The click-klak of a gun being cocked back will surely end even the sweetest of poems.





The question of “what does this canvas mean” is a different question altogether because painter and viewer are not going to be on the same wavelength in a way that two graffiti writers would be. When you put your art on canvas it is automatically bridging the gap between the creator and the viewer. Its is legitimized and made into something that people will travel to see rather than art that they are smacked in the face with as they travel. They can have all the time in the world to examine the intricacies of the brush strokes, or the imagery, or the color. They can ponder what deeper meanings exist within the painting and what the artist really meant. They forget that it's all just pigment to surface. Pigment to surface, I write my name on the wall so that you know and I know that I was there – just a living, breathing human being who wants you to see that I’m alive. Even if I’m dead inside sometimes; I’m alive God damn it!





I never really thought about what my paintings “meant” before people started asking me. I just did what I did on a subconscious level and never really questioned it. I started to think about what I was doing and realized they were all about desperation. I realized they were like totems to the sad poor and disenfranchised the iconography glorifying the lowest of the low garbage that you would find in the shittiest slum in the most roach infested city in the world. They’re homage’s to the broken families living lies and sleeping in overcrowded cold apartments with roaches crawling in and out of empty booze bottles. They’re beacons of hope letting us know that maybe there is a little beauty in the hideous.

I came back from the east coast chomped and spit out by New York, back to my little town, my heart shredded apart by a girl. All my paintings shredded apart by an Exacto knife in a blinding fit of rage. But it will take a little longer to get rid of all my art in the streets. Every little thing hanging on to the side of a freight train or hiding in cracks and crevices will live forever just waiting to stick its hand out and wave “hi”. After my return, I was still pretty bummed on life. My homie picked me up and we went to one of our old haunts that used to be so chill that you could paint all day and night. Now there are security cameras and bright lights illuminating the whole spot. We decided to rock it anyways and I did a quick straight letter with vintage Krylon colors. The paint even smelled different and I had olfactory recall of my younger days as I rushed to fill in my piece in the hot spot. We finished and got out of there with no hassle. Painting made me feel a little better but not much though.








The next week I was walking down the avenue and I saw a good friend of mine from the generation of writers before me. He had just been indicted on some serious charges and you could tell he was on a bad one. He told me he had been on a suicide mission a few nights before wandering around binging on drugs. He said he wandered into the yard and saw the piece I had painted a few nights before. He told me that that piece saved him. He was on the fucking edge and totally alone and the familiar markings on the walls were enough to show him that glimmer of hope. That shit is what art is all about.





So, this is for the true savages that are malt liquor balls of hate and spite taking drugs and seething in desperation, staying out all night emptying cans day in day out only stopping to get a quick bite to eat, or get some guts real quick, to grab some dope and head out of town to the chill rack spot so that they can re-up they’re paint supply for another never ending night of xylenes and ketones. Wafting through the air, the tip on the paint can gently sing songs to vandalism as the spotlights come on and they make a break for wash but it’s a good fifty yards away so they just keep moving through the pain and the rain over the countless buff paint marks, over their shit shaking rollers, while looking back to see what’s coming. These guys never get to chill for a second and take in the momentous destruction that they blessed this sad dull world with.

KAI1

Spun by Art as Authority at 10:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

by Kevin Freitas


Taking a direct cue from Edward Winkleman's blog and a recent poll he conducted, I decided to find out, who's potentially reading Art as Authority. So, as The Who start singing in my head, Who are you, ... I really wanna know. kf

I woke up in a Soho doorway

A policeman knew my name
He said 'You can go sleep at home tonight
If you can get up and walk away'

I staggered back to the underground
And the breeze blew back my hair
I remember throwin' punches around
And preachin' from my chair

chorus:
Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
etc.

Spun by Art as Authority at 06:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

There are three excellent exhibits opening tonight.

Russell Bowman’s mission has been to present strong Chicago material from the time of the Imagists to the present alternating with shows of international caliber artists whose work is not often seen here. In so doing he places the older Chicago art in a national context and narrows the gap in value of the historically under appreciated Chicago artist.

Tonight he opens a show of Imagist art from the 60’s into the 80’s. This is a fabulous opportunity for Chicagoans with a hankering for more knowledge about the period to get a insightful introduction. There are great works by City favorites like Roger Brown and Ed Paschke. But to be reminded of the strength of Gladys Nilsson, Christina Ramberg, Margaret Wharton, Karl Wirsum and Ray Yoshida is an absolute treat. Today’s Chicago artists cannot escape the influence of the Imagists, but many are not cognizant of where or how that influence comes to affect them. This show warrants being seen by artists so they can embrace, reject, or just learn about their predecessors. Good stuff.

Dominick Di Meo’s influenced the Imagists. He was a member of the Monster Roster of the 1950’s that included Leon Golub, June Leaf and Seymour Rosofsky. Di Meo’s early works can be seen at Corbett vs. Dempsey. Even though they have not been restored or cleaned they look remarkably fresh and vibrant. Some images remind me that Jean Dubuffet gave a highly controversial lecture in Chicago in 1951 and made a major impact on collectors and artists here (which has something to do with why there is a sculpture of his downtown). Some look like Leon Golub who shared a studio with Di Meo in the 50’s. Others show the influence of Joan Miro. And H.C. Westerman was a friend. Mix these influences together and you arrive at the unique vision of Di Meo. Looking at this show you can begin to see how Chicago art history evolved. Start where you want. Maybe with Ivan Albright (earlier is even better). Connect to H.C. Westerman, Leon Golub, Di Meo, the Imagists and Ed Paschke. A lot of things start to make sense: Chicago’s aesthetic independence, awareness of national trends, preferences for figuration, a surreal tangent and visual integrity. We are fortunate to have exemplary dealers who show great art, know how to do business, orchestrate their exhibitions, teach their public and allow us to learn by looking. Thank you.














I’m impressed with Harold Mendez and I’m impressed with his art. Years ago he was in an exhibit at my gallery that was curated by Sabrina Raaf. Since then he’s gone back to school, studied with Rodney Carswell, and emerged as a thoughtful, contemplative, serious artist. His show, which opens tonight at the Contemporary Art Workshop is special. I feel like we are allowed the indulgence of a meditative look inside the artist’s studio, psyche and soul. This is not an easy show. There are references to Beckett and Sartre, thoughts about Mendez’s exploration of self and the large ethereal questions. Here he is being particularly vulnerable, revealing his thought process and his work process, considerations of future pieces and work that he needs to explore outside the walls of his studio. Mendez is definitely an artist to watch. He’s very good.











At Kasia Kay, an artist from China is showing some rather fun and intelligent photographs. I remember being in China maybe 8 years ago and visiting a handful of successful artists. I was impressed by the lack of vision and a desire to provide whatever they thought capitalism would spend money on. It felt like a scam. Since then so much of the Chinese art that appears at auction and sells for ridiculous sums feels exactly the same way – soulless, thoughtless and vapid. Not so with the art that I see at Walsh Gallery on not so for Maleonn at Kasia Kay. The art is fresh, obviously from somewhere else, considered and charming.











Stacie Johnson is a good Chicago painter. It is insufficient to just have a good idea. The work needs to be made well too. Her show, opening tonight at ThreeWalls, is evidence of her technical ability and insightful, intuitive studies – personless portraits, if you will. This being the 5th anniversary of ThreeWalls the show delves into the history, personalities and physical space of ThreeWalls. I thought it was fun and well done. As you know, ThreeWalls, our favorite little, local, not-for-profit, the recipient of a rather large Warhol grant, a world-class curator reviewed in Artforum, with artists they’ve introduced here in Chicago now appearing in the Whitney Biennial, also has a residency program where they bring in out-of-town artists, put them up and show their art. This month ThreeWalls is swapping exhibits’ with the older, Philadelphia NFP powerhouse, Vox Populi. Good for them. Good for ThreeWalls. Check it out.








Rowley Kennerk Gallery has a fun exhibiton/series titled Rotations / One Work, in which they present a sole work of art for one week (ending on a Saturday) and then hang a new piece the following week. Up for another couple of days is the work of Joseph Grigely who is deaf and has saved the communication people have scribbled on paper in order to communicate with him.





Mariano Chavez whose show opens tonight at Linda Warren Gallery, has been anointed as a “break-out” Chicago artist by NewCity. His work is certainly brash, bombastic, attention-getting and not very pretty. Impressed by the mass media bombardment of our senses he seeks to compete, but mostly the work looks like that of an adolescent teenage boy who was weaned too soon. Clearly Chavez has talent and a lot of ideas. I look forward to seeing him do something with his ability.











Karen Reimer’s show at Monique Meloche doesn’t open tonight, but it’s the first time I’ve had the opportunity to see the show and it’s a winner. The work is beautiful and moves progressively from being obvious to obtuse, from easy to damned near impossible, from realistic to conceptual – all while using the same set of constraints. Each piece has a number on its face that is the same height in inches as the number. That number dictates how pieces of fabric the artist has sewn together to make the piece. Once the numbers get taller than the art and are folded back on themselves the work moves from visible to concealed, thin to thick, comprehendible to mysterious. There are an awful lot of Chicago based artists make some damned good art. Reimer is among the best.














Hey, it’s good out there.
Go have a look!

Paul Klein

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by Richard Gleaves

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by Richard Gleaves

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by Kevin Freitas





An art exhibition at the Flash Online Gallery:

ART-i-Facts JAPANESE:
Still-Life Photographs of
Japanese Antique & Vintage Objects
by Bob Matheny

June 1-30, 2008
Hours: 24/7
www.almostmaybe.com
For more information: 619.223-3745
almost@cox.net

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by Kevin Freitas





Chris Marshall lives and makes his artwork in the UK. I met Chris in 2000, in Brussels, when he came there as part of a cultural artist exchange between UK and Belgian artists. A reciprocal exhibit entitled Terre à Terre, organized by A.P.T. (Art in Perpetuity Trust) Gallery, an artist collective located in Deptford, S.E. London; Maison de l'Art Actuel des Chartreux, Brussels, a contemporary art gallery with resident studio space (similar to our LUX Institute); and my space, Abel Joseph Gallery, also located in Brussels. Chris was a member and practicing artist with A.P.T. and with a smaller group of South East London artists, under the name of A2 - christened in spirit by the A2 freeway that runs through the South East.

Chris and a second UK artist, Liz Harrison, both did installation works in my gallery, while the remaining artists, Mickey Dell, Paul Malone, and Nicola Rae, exhibited their works at the Maison de l'Art Actuel. The site-specific work Chris placed in the gallery, Red Wine, was made up of 500 8 mm x 1500 mm glass tubes, 30 litres of red Gallo wine, rubber stoppers, filled to the brim, and the patience to line them all up, side by side, against the gallery wall and storefront window. The gallery, a former cafe bar, fit perfectly with Chris' work in both concept and idea. Here is what he has to say about the piece:

Red wine has an enormous history, it is the embodiment of time. It has an inherent depth of process; of making; of maturing. It is metaphysical and scientific. There is immense poetry in the concept of wine, its associations, its symbolism. It has a magical presence in its colour and transmission of light.

Spun by Art as Authority at 09:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

SOKE is interviewed by KAI1


My pal Soke here, has dabbled in all aspects of criminal life spanning across all 50 states including Canada, and of course Mexico. He has been engulfed in the modern graffiti culture playing a major role for the last decade in the southwest. He now makes a modest living doing murals and selling paintings. - KAI1

KAI1: Alright man – tell me about doing some graffiti.

SOKE: What types of graffiti are you talking about?

K: Whatever types of graffiti you like to do man.

S: As long as its graffiti I like to do everything. I prefer doing filler bombs with black and white, preferably Kilz tips as high as I can reach on freeways and abandoned buildings. I also like to use the canvas of nice vehicles leaving the club, such as Hummers i.e. Escalades, any kind of Audi, even if it’s a nice Mitsubishi. I like to adorn them with my name in numerous places.

K: How many cars do you think you’ve hit excluding moving trucks and vans and shit?

S: As far as just cars? Whips motherfucking whips? I think I’m the Hummer killer, I probably got at least over 50 Hummers, and were not talking about keying these things here – fucking we’re doing scribes man.

K: Got any funny stories about any etch bath?

S: I never really fucked with it but I got a funny story about my homeboy Daveo. I had this recipe that I made up in my mind and shit – and I told it to him – and then, he hit me up and told me his boy put it in his marker and it blew up in his pocket and burned through his pocket and burned his whole leg up – nawwhatimean? But I personally, never fucked with it – fuck that shit. If you got a marker though I'll use it – I'll fucks wit it.





K: A lot of people even old school writers, think that using etch bath is just too destructive and look down on the kids that do it.

S: I think anyone who discredits what anyone else does is full of shit. These people, they try to perpetuate some type of graffiti hierarchy and it has totally ruined the reason we do graffiti. Graffiti is not to be cool – if you're cool like you’re having a good time, then you’re not doing graffiti. But if you’re hella sad and you’re girlfriend just fucked your best friend and your mom kicked you out of the house at six AM and you had to go to your faggot friend who you never liked ever and who’s gonna annoy the shit out of you just so you can live and have a place to sleep, THEN that’s when you do graffiti – that’s when graffiti comes and pours out of you. It’s not when you’re having a good time and fucking a fine bitch and making a lot of money.

K: Talk about the moves you’ve been making as a fine artist.

S: I hope that one day it happens for me. I’m not a fine artist though man – I strive to fuck wit it. I’ll draw all day long - I’ll fuck around and produce art. I think it’s my next step, the kind of artwork that I’ve done my whole life can only go so far in the manner that I’ve been doing it. I think that in order for it to be accredited in the manner that it deserves is to actually display it to the people who are in charge of, well, in charge of not really classifying it, but in a way get graffiti reclassified as a legitimate art form – something that’s gonna get some kind of respect. The thing about the kind of artwork that we do is that it’s so competitive that you can never really gain any type of true appreciation of your artwork from your peers because they’re putting all of the energy that could be used to appreciate your art into appreciating their own art. It’s not to say that you can’t take somebody else as an inspiration…








K: It’s narcissism?

S: Yeah that’s true but the thing is that it’s great though, it feeds your ego. It’s like you know “every cars a cop and every cops a critic”. That means when you’re out bombing in these streets please believe that the headlights coming around the corner just saw you doing this shit, now your heart’s pumping and bumping and you’re running for your life in a wash and then air support comes and it’s a whole new situation and your running from the spotlight in the wrong neighborhood. You run into a cul-de-sac being followed by its inhabitants screaming “mira, mira” at your ass as they join the chase. Graffiti introduces you to situations in life which one would never experience or fantasize about.


K: Do you agree that graffiti most prolifically thrives in the ghetto?

S: Graffiti belongs in the ghetto. When these kids spray-paint they are trying to go to battle with paid maintenance crews and it’s a fucking losing battle. It’s a funny joke, don’t get me wrong if you have the heart and the effort to go after a corporation who you feel is unjust then I wanna go see you fight the fuckers – but that fight is not for me. You’ll see me painting where people can’t afford to go over my shit and not only that I’m attacking slum lords whether they be the city or business owners who don’t maintain their shit. The government should be maintaining the freeway, it’s not my fault I run for years on end… it’s not my fault.

K: What are your new paintings all about?

S: They don’t mean nothing to me. It’s just what I do man…check it out, some people just feel the need to water a yard full of dirt and rake it just to see the lines in it. It’s like: why do they gotta do that shit? I just do what I do man.





K: What's a beef about man?

S: Aww fuck, I dunno I think beef is basically somebody who you don’t see eye to eye with and it’s like, are you gonna accept my way of believing or am I gonna accept your way of believing. I don’t think I’m going to accommodate someone else by saying “yeah you know you were right let me apologize and try to make this right.” I have tons of beef but half of it probably starts out of boredom. I shouldn’t even be allowed to say shit to people sometimes – because I have a certain way of thinking and it’s just my bad habit to call them out on it. And I hate to be called out on my shit so it leads me to do the same thing over and over and over again.

K: Like a downward spiral?

S: Not to say that it’s like a curse, because it’s definitely something that you choose – but it’s within a graffiti writer’s nature to be engulfed with beef…








K: Yeah if they’re really doing shit.

S: I think everyone has demons and I think these demons could be either real life situations or they could be a manifestation of super paranoia that physically haunts you. Some people are afraid of going broke so they’ll do whatever it takes to make it. I have a real good sense of humor when it comes to people trying to adapt their ways onto other people. I’m intrigued by mind control. I grew up in a neighborhood full of Debos and its kind of rubbed off on me a bit – don’t get me wrong you’re a product of your environment to a certain point, but the only time I disagree with anybody is when they stop being true to themselves. Don't mistake, if you’re being true to yourself and it opposes me, don’t be surprised when I come upside your head. It’s just the way its gonna be like everything else, but you'll still get my overall respect by holding yours down.

K: Where do you get your inspiration?

S: I get so much inspiration from the people of the night. It’s crazy, at a certain point in your life you wake up in the morning and you see your parents, you see everybody, and you live in a house and there’s lights, it’s not dim and you see the color of your clothes, you get in the shower and feel the warmth of water and you dry off, you feel the dry towel, but what nobody knows is that you’re about to go on this adventure that night, that is gonna lead you to the most delusional amount of bullshit that you're ever going to experience. You’re not going to be going out to paint where people are mowing their lawns at 2 am waving at you – you’re gonna go to where people are smoking crack, fucking prostitutes selling crack, trying to divert the attention of the police, and you being there is causing even more attention. So you are immediately encountering opposition as soon as you step out of your house. Timing is crucial –it’s crazy because the areas you can be in at 5pm are definitely not the same areas you should be in at 2 am. When you go scope a spot it doesn’t matter what city you’re in because all of em got slums all of em got ghettos. Say you scoped the spot at 5 and it looked cush then all of a sudden you’re up there at 2 and you have people coming out after you – what are you supposed to do jump off the roof?





K: What do you see in the future for Graffiti?

S: Graffiti is an art form that will live forever but I don’t think people will ever really appreciate its true value. Tell me and show me, how any other art form has held this high of a dialogue between each other. Who follows each other this closely? It’s just not the same. I understand that people respect fine art, but are they saving up their money to go fly, visit, and in essence study with and surround themselves with all these fine artists? No, nothing else is as prolific as graffiti. Graffiti is what it is, there is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. You’re not going to become some super cool dude; you might score with some stupid girls who you would never really want to associate with anyways, if they’re gonna fuck you cause you’re good at graffiti. Graffiti is illegal. Paint is free. Don’t stress about it. If you’re gonna do art than do art, be the dopest artist out but just don’t call yourself a graffiti artist. All the checks that are going to be cashed have the names on them already – you better hope that graffiti has a resurfacing 20 years from now because otherwise, you're gonna stay broke and useless.

Spun by Art as Authority at 09:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

by Kevin Freitas


The following works by French artist, Julien Colombier, are hand-painted with acrylics, spraypaint and marker on paper (kraft) grocery bags. Each piece is an original painting, and was part of a larger installation, produced specifically for Julien's first one-person and highly acclaimed exhibit in the United States, at the Art Produce Gallery, San Diego in March 2008.

Every bag purchased will come with a 8" x 10" color photo of the installation, artist bio, and press clippings. (see image below) Please direct all inquiries and questions to artasauthority@artasauthority.com All purchases will be securely packed and fully insured for shipping. Shipping: $15 in the U.S. Outside the U.S. - please inquire for rate. Please specify the size, and the number of the bag - in brackets [ ]
Don't wait, get the one you want now!



Installation Art Produce Gallery - March 2008




10" x 12.5" $75.00 each



size/number: 10" x 12.5" - [1] $75.00


MORE...

Spun by Art as Authority at 09:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

by Kevin Freitas





Un temps donné
Un espace laboratoire étroit comme une boîte crânienne
Des éléments choisis, associés, en transition
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0…
Un lapin ramassé sur une route à quatre voies, la chasse est parfois involontaire,
avoir l’oeil
L’arme n’a pas le même calibre
Une séance de cuisine et quelques fraîches…
Un souvenir, deux oublis
Aux limites des mots et des images.

Si vous cherchez fébrilement le moment propice pour vous précipiter découvrir la
dernière expo de la saison, nous vous suggérons l'une des plusieurs collaborations qui sont prévues:

Le 17 mai à 18h30, lors du vernissage : intervention du cuisinier créateur Pierre Moussaoui
le 6 juin à 20h : soirée performances avec Sylvie Alexandre (performance voix/labyrinthe vocal), Benoît Casas (artiste, poète, performeur, éditeur), et Patrick Martin (musicien botaniste).

Exposition: 26 avril 2008 au 21 juin 2008 / april 26 - june 21, 2008
vernissage / opening: le samedi 17 mai de 17h à 20h / the 17th of May from 5 to 8 pm

le petit lieu poileboine
8-10 rue de l'église de Vaucelles
14000 Caen
tel. 011332 31 83 20 35

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