I have a bit of an obsession with graffiti. Anybody who knows me well will tell you I’m a terrible person to walk around London (my home city) with. Why? Because I want to stop every five minutes and take another photo of some awesome street art I’ve noticed. I like the idea of people claiming and re-claiming their own city. Making it theirs, leaving a mark and making people notice. I find a lot of beauty in changing a formerly grey concrete wall into a beautiful mess of colour. My favourite place to find myself is the legal graffiti area on Leake Street, behind Waterloo station. I love that every single time I go it’s different. Sometimes I’m blown away, sometimes I’m left mildly disappointed (I’m really not a fan of tags). What I find incredible is some of the work that’s always left alone. Never covered. Like the above words. I think that speaks volumes. There’s a certain unspoken line of respect. However, at the same time there’s beauty in the brevity of the work that’s painted and then painted over. Nothing can stay the same forever.
I believe graffiti is an excellent demonstration of the New Modernist. It is a fleeting capturing of modern life as it is. Then it’s gone, lost under another layer of paint.