graffiti

Subterms

    Latest story

    125 Shares171 Views

    Book Review: ‘Rammellzee,’ edited by Maxwell Wolf and Jeff Mao

    by

    In the mid-1970s, a half-Black, half-Italian teenager from the projects in the Far Rockaway neighborhood of Queens started hitting the A train with a spray can. At 18, he legally changed his name to Rammellzee, and since then no conversation about graffiti culture or the late-20th-century New York art scene has been complete without mentioning his influence.In RAMMELLZEE: Racing for Thunder (Rizzoli, $65), the first major monograph on the multi-hyphenate artist, who died in 2010, the co-editors Maxwell Wolf and Jeff Mao intersperse more than a half-century’s worth of art, photos and archives with an oral history as told by the fellow artists, friends and family who knew him best.Rammellzee spray-paints the Berlin Wall in 1983, on the occasion of his solo exhibition “Gothic Futurism.”via Silvia Menzel and Rizzoli“Untitled (Bands of Steel),” painted in acrylic and spray paint on carpet, circa 1985.via the Estate of Rammellzee and Rizzoli“In the Middle of Robbin the Bank the Dam Yard Bizzard Hits Us,” 1983.via D.E.F Collection, Paris and RizzoliAs a teenager Rammellzee conceived his theory of Gothic Futurism, which saw language as a “tool of oppression” and graffiti writers as heroes in a fight to liberate the world of letters. In the ’80s he began experimenting with new materials and a more formal studio practice, producing large-scale paintings, frescoes, sculpture, music, performance art and the elaborate costumes he wore to embody otherworldly, gender-fluid characters, like “Chaser the Eraser” and “Shun-U.”“Tower of Panzerism, The S.S. Speedway,” 1984.Matt Grubb / Red Bull Media HouseRammellzee as Chaser the Eraser, c. 2000.Mari Horiuchi, vía RizzoliRammellzee was an “enigma,” Wolf writes: “manic genius, style god,” and also “irascible overlord” and “to some, simply an incoherent madman.” A pioneer of hip-hop and freestyle, he played with idiosyncratic nasal and at times comic vocal styles that were widely mimicked in early rap and would inspire artists like the Beastie Boys and Cypress Hill. He had an on-and-off friendship with Jean-Michel Basquiat, who helped produce his 1983 vinyl single “Beat Bop,” and he had a small part in the 1984 film “Stranger Than Paradise,” whose director, Jim Jarmusch, called him an overlooked genius.Rammellzee in his apartment in New York City’s TriBeCa neighborhood, c. 1991.Monica Fritz
    “He was not part of anybody’s school,” the artist Henry Chalfant says in the book. “Rammellzee literally invented his life and the compelling mystique around himself and his work. This is a quintessentially American thing.” More

    More stories

    • 138 Shares99 Views

      in Street Art

      Whimsical Parade of Banksy Animals Sends Fans on a Giddy Hunt

      by

      Each day for nine straight days, a new Banksy artwork appeared somewhere in London. For some, it became a citywide treasure hunt.The first Banksy piece to show up was a mountain goat, spotted by passers-by on a wall near the River Thames. The second work, a pair of elephants, appeared overnight on a house in southwest London. Then came some playful monkeys, a howling wolf, two hungry pelicans and a cat.For nine straight days, Banksy, the famed and elusive street artist, unveiled a menagerie of animal artworks around the city, a prolific outburst that thrilled Londoners.For Banksy fans, finding the works became a daily, citywide scavenger hunt.“It’s like an adventure,” said Daniel Lloyd-Morgan, an artist who sketches live street scenes. “It’s turned into a safari around London.”Every day since the first one appeared, Mr. Lloyd-Morgan checked social media to figure out the location of each new Banksy and pay it a visit. “This is like a happening,” he said. “So basically I put everything else on hold.”It was an unusually whimsical outpouring from Banksy, a British artist known for his socially and politically charged street art, which has appeared in New York City, the West Bank, Ukraine and other areas around the world. More recently, he sent an inflatable boat with dummy passengers to surf across a crowd at the Glastonbury Festival in England, a commentary on the plight of migrants crossing the Mediterranean Sea.But what message was Banksy trying to send with the animals scattered across London? That has spurred speculation, even as the works have delighted the residents of the neighborhoods they popped up in.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

    • 113 Shares169 Views

      in Street Art

      Manfred Kirchheimer, ‘Indispensable’ New York Filmmaker, Dies at 93

      by

      For decades, he meticulously crafted short films and documentaries in relative obscurity. Then, in his 80s, he enjoyed a burst of productivity and acclaim.Manfred Kirchheimer, a filmmaker who was drawn to stickball, jazz, subway graffiti, gargoyles on old buildings and the memories of aging immigrants, and who after decades of slowpoke perfectionism earned a reputation as a master of nonfiction cinema, died on July 16 at his home on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. He was 93.The cause was cancer, his son Gabe said.Mr. Kirchheimer often wrote, produced, directed and edited his movies as well as photographed them. He worked hard to get funding from nonprofit sources, and he earned a living as a freelance film editor and a film professor at the School of Visual Arts in Manhattan from the mid-1970s until the mid-2010s.His camera moved at the speed of people-watching: lingering for an extra moment to relish a certain scene, turning to something else in the bounty of street sights, then returning his gaze somewhere it had already been, hungry for a second helping.He found dignity and delight in what other New Yorkers overlooked or even disdained. Mayor Ed Koch, for instance, called subway graffiti blight, but Mr. Kirchheimer exulted in the subway exteriors of the late 1970s as traveling canvases. He made the subway the main character of his 1981 movie, “Stations of the Elevated,” with a soundtrack by Charles Mingus that suggested that graffiti could have the same rough, improvisational genius as his jazz.The subway cars that Mr. Kirchheimer filmed featured a portrait of a hitchhiking snowman; a verdant landscape overseen by a smiling, big-eyed sun; and cryptic messages in bubble letters — “HEAVEN IS LIFE,” “am nor disaster!” He followed the trains from Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, at the city’s northern edge, past South Bronx tenements whose stoops hosted playing children, all the way to the beaches of Coney Island.Mr. Kirchheimer exulted in the subway exteriors of the late 1970s as traveling canvases and made them the focus of his 1981 movie, “Stations of the Elevated.”Manfred Kirchheimer/Cinema ConservancyWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

    • 50 Shares129 Views

      in Street Art

      New York’s Secret Signatures

      by

      Across New York City, people have written their names in places that only a select few ever get to see.Good morning. It’s Wednesday. Today we’ll look at hidden signatures in places you might not expect people to scribble their names. We’ll also get details on Senator Robert Menendez’s decision to resign in the wake of his conviction on corruption charges.James Barron/The New York TimesThis is not about the many things in New York that are hidden in plain sight. This is about things that are just plain hidden — little secrets that are understood only by those who know they are there.Specifically, signatures — the unseen John Hancocks of the people who made something or built something.For generations, the workers at the Steinway & Sons factory in Astoria, Queens, signed the pianos in places not even a virtuoso could find — until the managers said, No more.And construction workers have a long history of signing a beam that is put in place forever — a tradition that extends well beyond New York and usually includes people who designed or financed the building, or are the reason it is being built. Former President Barack Obama signed such a beam at the topping-out ceremony for his presidential center in Chicago last month. His signature won’t be visible in the ceiling of the room where the beam is going, which a spokeswoman described as “an intricately designed, angled affair.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

    • 88 Shares159 Views

      in Street Art

      Beyond Outlaw: New Paths for Aging Taggers

      by

      At Lehmann Maupin, exhibitions of new work pushing the form of street art forward, from San Francisco’s Barry McGee and Osgemeos, the Brazilian artists he inspired.Street art is in a funny place. More than 50 years since its invention as the urgent, unruly markings of kids scrawling their names on walls and the flanks of subway cars, it has evolved into a worldwide language and commercial behemoth — from a position outside the mainstream to one in its center. Its progenitors, having reached late middle age, are still searching for ways to push the form forward, even if that way moves beyond its improvisatory and outlaw mode into something tidier and more well mannered.Two exhibitions of new work by the artists Osgemeos and Barry McGee at the Lehmann Maupin gallery in Manhattan illustrate divergent paths for the aging tagger. Neither represents a significant departure for either artist so much as retrenchments of their well-defined practices, honed for gallery consumption over the last 30 years. But familiarity can be instructive, a map for longevity over novelty. Their work suggests the street is more of a mind-set than a medium.Their presentations here are linked, but not by style, which could scarcely be more different. Osgemeos (Portuguese for “the twins”) — the Brazilian identical twin brothers Otávio and Gustavo Pandolfo — are enamored with the nascent hip-hop culture of late 1970s New York City: style writing, break dancing and D.J.-ing, which the ’80s had floated down to South America. The brothers began making work as teenagers, bombing fat letters that chugged along like a rail car around their native São Paulo.Eventually they expanded into baroque murals featuring cartoony humanoid figures rendered in an obnoxiously lurid palette that looked more like a hallucinatory children’s television show than anything happening on the street. (Even now, it’s easy to imagine their characters launching into an extended reverie on words that start with the letter A, say, or listening intently as an adult patiently explains the concept of anxiety.)Osgemeos, “Cultivando os Sonhos (Cultivating Dreams),” 2023, mixed media on MDF Board.via Osgemeos and Lehmann Maupin, New York, Seoul, and LondonOsgemeos, “A Vênus (The Venus),” 2023, mixed media on MDF board with sequinsvia Osgemeos and Lehmann Maupin, New York, Seoul, and LondonMcGee, about eight years older at 58, is a product of San Francisco’s countercultural tendencies. He came to tagging as a reclamation of public space from the incursion of commercialism, and as an empathetic witness to those whom that commercialism dispossessed; his work is often punctuated by a slumped caricature with sagging eyes and defeated air.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

    • 138 Shares179 Views

      in Street Art

      Osgemeos Rocked Brazil. Can the Graffiti Twins Take the U.S., Too?

      by

      Their street murals, monumental sculptures, intricate drawings and vivid paintings pop up at Lehmann Maupin gallery on the eve of their Hirshhorn debut.Just inside the door to the studio of the Brazilian artists Osgemeos is a self-portrait.Spray painted onto the concrete wall of the old metal workshop’s entryway, the image shows the identical twins Otávio and Gustavo Pandolfo, 50, standing next to each other, hands at their sides and looking forward. They’re wearing colorful printed clothing, bags slung over their shoulders and baseball caps propped on their heads.Their skin is the same shade of yellow as the other characters they’re known for throughout their art, a nod to the fact that they, too, might be from Tritrez, the fantastical world they explore in their graffiti-style murals, monumental sculptures, intricate drawings and vivid paintings that have for more than three decades rocked their native Brazil.The self-portrait is just a snippet of what’s to come after passing through a small doorway at the back of the room that leads to a work space that allows the twins to create on an enormous scale. Here, preparations are underway for “Endless Story,” their first museum survey of work in the United States. The full-floor presentation will run at the Smithsonian’s Hirshhorn Museum, in Washington, D.C., from Sept. 29 to Aug. 3, 2025, using the circular museum and its outside gardens to showcase some 1,000 artworks, photographs and archival materials.One of the brothers’ imposing sculptures, wrapped in black plastic so it can be shipped for the exhibition, hangs from chains on the sweeping ceiling and another is tucked away in a corner, a smidgen of what looks like a subway car visible.Under the studio’s mezzanine sits a model of the Hirshhorn, miniature versions of paintings and a photo of the pair as teenage B-boys placed on tiny gallery walls as the brothers decide where they should go. Working with Marina Isgro, the curator, has been a massive undertaking — not only do the artists have to select pieces they’ve done since art became their profession, but they also have to comb through the thousands of drawings their mother saved that they did as boys. Some depict sketches of cars and fire trucks, while others are an attempt to explain to their parents the importance of Tritrez to their journey.That magical world is also the focus of a solo exhibition at Lehmann Maupin gallery in New York. “Cultivating Dreams,” their sixth solo show with the gallery, runs through Aug. 16 and features 13 new paintings and an immersive installation, taking visitors through Tritrez, a dreamworld they first started drawing when they were just five years old.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

    • 75 Shares189 Views

      in Street Art

      What’s a Banksy Museum Without Banksy?

      by

      Work by the anonymous street artist is hard to find. At a museum devoted to him, it’s even harder.To enter the Banksy Museum, which opened this month above a Bank of America on the lower lip of SoHo, a visitor must wade through the thicket of vendors crowding Canal Street with bootleg Apple products and almost-convincing Prada handbags splayed out on blankets.It’s a fitting approach. The Banksy Museum does not own or display any actual Banksys but rather 167 decent-enough reproductions of them, life-size murals and paintings on panels treated to look like exterior walls that stretch through an exhibition space, designed to resemble the street.The Canal Street entrance to the Banksy Museum, amid gift stores and street vendors.Hiroko Masuike/The New York TimesThat these replicas of Banksy’s oeuvre since the late 1990s are more or less faithful to their source material. That has less to do with the competence of the anonymous artists who executed them than it does with the simplicity of Banksy’s aesthetic: photo-derived stencil work, more about social commentary than technical proficiency. A Banksy work does not astound with technique or formal innovation, nor is it meant to. Designed to be quickly made and quicker understood, they rely on easy visual gags that don’t always amount to much, all punchline and no windup (a man walking a Keith Haring dog; riot police and protesters having a pillow fight; a boy catching snow on his tongue that’s actually ash from a dumpster fire). His early political satire, like Winston Churchill with a mohawk and teddy bears lobbing Molotov cocktails, had all the profundity of a dorm room poster, a shallow populism that explains his trajectory — populism being a sure route toward cultural phenomenon.The world’s most famous street artist who prefers to work in the shadows, Banksy has traveled that route since the mid-2000s, inspiring a singular devotion. The appearance of a new work is heralded as a cultural event, its removal often met with protests. Few other artists are treated as prophet and savior, and fewer still who insist on a complete allergy to public life. We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

    • 100 Shares149 Views

      in Street Art

      Patti Astor, Fun Gallery Co-Founder, Dies at 74

      by

      She was a founder of the Fun Gallery, which staged early shows by Keith Haring and other artists who defined the city’s downtown scene in the 1980s.Patti Astor, the downtown Manhattan “It” girl, indie film star and co-founder of Fun Gallery, the scruffy East Village storefront space that in the early 1980s nurtured young graffiti artists like Futura2000, Zephyr, Lee Quinones, Lady Pink and Fab 5 Freddy, as well as showcasing artists like Keith Haring, Kenny Scharf and Jean-Michel Basquiat, died on April 9 at her home in Hermosa Beach, Calif. She was 74.Her death was confirmed by Richard Roth, a friend. No cause was given.With her platinum hair, raspy voice and glamorous ’50s-style dresses, Ms. Astor was a formidable presence among the music, film and art makers who gathered at the Mudd Club in TriBeCa. In the summer of 1981, one of her nightclub buddies, Bill Stelling, told her that he had rented a small storefront on East 11th Street with the thought of turning it into a gallery. Did she know any artists?“Yeah,” she said, “I know a few.”The place was just eight by 25 feet, and the idea was to make a gallery by artists, for artists. They had no money and no art experience, but they had a lot of creative friends.The first show there was an exhibition of pencil drawings by Steven Kramer, Ms. Astor’s husband at the time; all 20 of the pieces sold, at $50 each, which seemed like a promising beginning. Mr. Scharf, who had already turned all of the appliances at Ms. Astor’s home into his signature outer-space critters, was offered the next show. He was also given the opportunity to name the place for its duration.“My stuff was fun, so fun seemed like a good name,” Mr. Scharf said in a phone interview.Fred Brathwaite, otherwise known as Fab 5 Freddy, was show No. 3, and his plan was to name the place the Serious Gallery. But by then Ms. Astor had bought stationery stamped “Fun” and had run out of money. Also, as she often said, “the name was so stupid it stuck.”Ms. Astor in 1983 in the backyard of Fun Gallery in the East Village during the opening of a show. Fun Gallery openings were mobbed, as uptown dealers and collectors mixed with D.J.s and aspiring teenage graffiti artists.Allan Tannenbaum/Getty ImagesWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More