graffiti

Art on the streets

March 9, 2010

Despite Portland’s reputation for attracting artists, I’ve yet to encounter an abundance of street art depicting this level of flair and creativity. Maybe I don’t get around enough, but I mostly encounter incomprehensible graffiti. Much is gang messaging, a defacement uglier and longer lasting than cats peeing to mark their territory.

Some people are trying, judging from these photos. My own finds are here, including some on passing rail cars. An artist known as Cake, whose work has been featured in an Albany, New York gallery, apparently stopped in Portland and left behind two paintings.

I’m a big fan of my friend’s approach — temporary, portable, and free. In a story I wrote before we became friends, he said:

I’m letting go of dormant energy in my world and leaving it to other people to revive it if they want.

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Graffiti and the Fartinator

February 22, 2009

Graffiti fascinates me. It’s hard to miss in Portland, especially east of the Willamette River where I live. Some is artistic. Most is illegible, as if space aliens scrawl communiques at night, unaware that their writings generally make no sense to Earthlings. And defacing property, no matter the creativity involved, is a crime costing major money to clean up.

Why then would a retail store inside a mall festoon its facade with unreadable graffiti? Even the font in the store name resembles taggers’ bold lettering. Read More

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Choirboy Graffiti

February 9, 2009

Finally, graffiti I can read. And it’s not only legible but painted in a flamboyant cursive script, conveys a simple but powerful admonition, and is brazenly displayed in the heart of one of Portland’s most-tagged neighborhoods. Read More

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Art Amid Gibberish

October 24, 2008

Consider me an accidental archeologist of urban blight. No academic journal will record my find yesterday during a trek through part of Portland where I don’t normally walk. But the thrill of discovery is reward enough.

I was retrieving my car, in the shop for overdue maintenance. I turned onto NE Everett off Grand after navigating through day laborers clustered on the I-84 bridge. Trees losing their grip on red and yellow leaves helped deaden the din of traffic. Read More

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