K. Patrick May 2014
CHAPTER THREE
Progress to Revolution: Case Studies that Pave a Pathway for Graffiti Reform
A fatal mistake of the authorities and quite possibly entire communities is to believe that
one group of people is more likely responsible for the creation of graffiti than any other, and that
it always reflects the desire to stir up trouble and criminal mischief. This misunderstanding is
particularly dangerous when it impacts and further stigmatizes any society’s most vulnerable
populations: the poor and the marginalized.
Of the street artists I have met and had conversations with, each one is a story, and their
diversity of backgrounds has been as stunning as their diversity of reasons for creating graffiti.
Israeli, Latino, Black, White, Nepalese, mixed race, Indian, Native American, wealthy, middle-
class, poor, political, anti-political—the list continues. It is true that graffiti has strong ties to hip-
hop culture, which is in turn associated with people of color, the ghetto, and therefore gang
violence. However, according to author Gregory Snyder:
Graffiti writers are part of a subculture with a rich history, a distinct language and a unique set of forms (tags, pieces, etc.) beliefs, and practices. Unlike some other subculture groups—punks and hip-hoppers, most notably—they do not share a distinct style of dress or music.1
On the night of March 18th, 2014, I was standing outside the opening of one of New
York’s newest and hippest street art galleries in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. I was chatting with a
friend, and a man approached near to where we stood. White, likely in his mid-30s, wearing a
North Face ski jacket and blue jeans, he proceeded to tag the wall behind us and casually walked
away. Graffiti does not have a face: it has a mission and a social intention.
1 Gregory Snyder, Graffiti Lives: Beyond the Tag in New York’s Urban Underground, (New York: NYU Press, 2011), 159.
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This evidence debunks theories that any one community may, at present, be more likely
to pick up a can of spray paint than any other. As Baudrillard would agree, graffiti did grow out
of neighborhoods in which urban riots were repressed, and those neighborhoods contained
majority black and Latino inhabitants. 2 The implication, though, is that blacks and Latinos may
have been among the first, but certainly not the only, people responsible for creating graffiti and
its political significance in the city. In any case, they may have the most valid reasons for making
it, since blacks and Latinos are historically and presently the most oppressed and policed
populations inside cities.
The Acceptance & Significance of Graffiti Culture in Buenos Aires, Argentina
In Buenos Aires, Argentina, two generations of graffiti artists describe their experience
and what it means to see graffiti as a political tool and as a socially inclusive endeavor.
Argentine street artist Lean Frizzera is now successful both as an independent and commissioned
artist, and began creating work in the streets in the 1990s. Although it can legally be considered
vandalism, there is no specific law against making graffiti in Buenos Aires, and from a cultural
perspective it is understood differently in comparison to New York.
According to Frizzera, his experience since the 90s demonstrates that graffiti is
understood as a necessary political action in Buenos Aires. There is a quiet cultural
understanding that the right of the people to speak back to those in power must be immovable.
The recent collective memory of an estimated 30,000 disappeared people during the Dirty War,
taken and presumed murdered due to disagreements about political ideas, requires the
maintenance of this attitude.
After the Dirty War and the dictatorship of 1976-1983, graffiti exploded in Argentina the
same way it did in New York in the 1970s—especially in the 1990s when economic 2 Baudrillard, “KOOL KILLER,” (1993), 33.
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neoliberalism was introduced in Argentina. Inequalities grew, and as Frizzera confirmed in an
interview, so did the creation of graffiti. He also discusses what he considers to be the
importance of creating his own independent artwork in the streets as well as his commissioned
works, most recently at the National Library of Argentina in Buenos Aires. He says, “The work I
do in the streets is for myself, in the streets you don’t have to answer to anybody. You don’t have
to consider anything except that you go and paint. It’s an open relationship between yourself and
other people—you initiate something between yourself and the world.”3
Fernanda Sanz, known as “Pepi,” is a younger Argentine graffiti artist that takes a great
deal of inspiration from Frizzera and his work in Buenos Aires. She also discusses the cultural
and political importance of graffiti in a country like hers, where inequality is visibly evident and
impossible to ignore. She reiterates that graffiti in Argentina has inherent meaning related to the
government and politics, and that graffiti was “basically the only way to disagree with the
military government when they were killing people that were against them. It was less risky than
speaking out loud at the time.”4 She also makes the astute observation that, “Something very
important happened in the 80s and 90s: American culture was brought here to Argentina with
neoliberalism. That was the moment that brought art to the streets, murals and not just political
tagging.”5
In Buenos Aires, graffiti has also positively impacted the economy even during the recent
and ongoing economic difficulties there. Graffiti, according to the Brazilian newspaper Folha De
S. Paulo, continues to thrive independently of economic concerns. It functions as a tourist
attraction both for its quality and for the amount of international artists that go to Buenos Aires
3 Lean Frizzera, Interviewed by Kara Patrick, Buenos Aires, Argentina, July 24 2013. 4 Fernanda Sanz, Interviewed by Kara Patrick, Buenos Aires, Argentina, July 3 2013. 5 Ibid.
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to paint.6 An organization in Buenos Aires, Graffitimundo, has been highly successful in
developing graffiti tourism in the city, and is well known for its excellent graffiti tours both on
foot and by bike.
Graffiti as a Political Weapon: Pixação in São Paulo, Brazil
Sociologist and professor at UC Berkeley Teresa Caldeira’s recent work focuses
predominantly on public city space in São Paulo, Brazil, and her ideas about graffiti are
transferrable to the situation in New York. She discusses class difference, which is a critical
discussion to have in the context of both Brazil and New York City. She particularly addresses
the self-segregation of elites within the population and how that relates to the creation of graffiti.
In São Paulo, there are physical walls that separate the higher classes from the lower
ones. Caldeira says, “these fortified areas reproduce the inequality and violence that precipitated
them.”7 As opposed to physical violence, the disadvantaged in São Paulo often wish to express
their discontent with unprecedented levels of inequality by use of graffiti. Caldeira champions
this peaceful artistic choice as a preferable method for those on the periphery to claim or assert
their own kind of power.
6 Michael Kepp, “Com Crise, arte de rua explodiu em Buenos Aires (In Crisis, street art explodes in Buenos Aires),” Folha De Sao Paulo, 19 December 2013, http://www1.folha.uol.com.br/turismo/2013/12/1387299-com-crise-arte-de-rua-em-explodiu-buenos-aires-e-virou-atracao-turistica.shtml. 7 Pedro Peterson, “Teresa Caldeira: A Contested Public: Walls, Graffiti and Pichações in São Paulo,” Center for Latin American Studies, UC Berkeley, 2 Oct 2006, http://bit.ly/18udmZA.
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Figure 4. Pixação, São Paulo, Brazil. Circa 2010. Spray Paint. Source: http://anniekoh.tumblr.com/post/54363768354/graffiti-‐in-‐sao-‐paulo The graffiti created by the oppressed in Brazil, pixação (tag names), ventures outside the
favelas and descends upon the physical symbols of segregation: those walls that enclose the
wealthy within the city. And, in fact, it has produced a really successful cultural movement.
Caldeira explains, “The complexity and beauty of the designs have even attracted the attention of
the municipal government, which, under control of the Workers Party began to sponsor graffiti
artists as a way to revitalize certain public spaces.”8
8 Ibid.
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Without ignoring the class dimension, this proves it is possible to applaud graffiti
movements and to uphold them as an important cultural activity and artifact. These policy
changes have been met with success and demonstrate that there are possibilities for graffiti
governance outside of prohibition. The reaction of the city government in São Paulo is, in fact,
exactly correct in its approach. It is a response rather than a reaction, and while the root reasons
for graffiti’s creation in the city may not be fully addressed by tolerance alone, it is positive
progress.
Figure 5. Jump over the turnstyle, Free Ride Now! A City Only Exists for Those Who Can Move Around it. 2010. Sao Paulo, Brazil. Spray Paint. Source: http://anniekoh.tumblr.com/post/54363768354/graffiti-in-sao-paulo Graffiti as a Tool to Promote Democracy: Shepard Fairey’s Obama Hope Poster & Kenya’s Peaceful-Election-Promoting Graffiti Train
Shepard Fairey, 41-years-old at the time of the 2008 campaign, designed what became
the iconic Obama HOPE poster for the 2008 election. It also became incredibly controversial
due to sourcing and copyright issues, and while it was approved by the Obama campaign, it was
at first created and distributed independently. Created by the artist in one day, this poster single-
handedly created the visual culture of the Obama campaign: as a symbol of “hope,” and also
“progress” and “change,” each poster was created by Fairey with the same stencilized image of
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Obama. There is no presidential campaign in recent history with a more memorable, iconic,
widely distributed and recognized image of a candidate.
Figure 6. Shepard Fairey, Obama HOPE Poster, 2008. Print. Source: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/5/55/Barack_Obama_Hope_poster.jpg In Kenya, since the first democratic elections of 1997, there is a virulent history of
election-time violence. A group of graffiti artists wanted to do what was in their power to
prevent a repeat of the most recent election-induced upheaval: they would paint to promote
election-time peace. The violence is typically the worst in the country’s largest slum, Kibera,
which the painted commuter trains pass through daily. On NPR’s Morning Edition, on February
19 2013, Gregory Warner reports on the train in a segment called “Kenya’s Graffiti Train Seeks
to Promote A Peaceful Election.” Warner cites 27-year old graffiti artist Bankslave from Kibera
as saying that, “He sees dozens of official billboards around the city promoting peace but says
they don’t have the power to speak to Kibera youth like street art can.”
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Figure 7. Uhuru B & crew, Peaceful Election Graffiti Train, 2013. Nairobi, Kenya. Spray paint. Source: http://media.npr.org/assets/img/2013/02/13/05- _dsc4707_slide-abb0cbf6ec719968a4b63f6b7456ef8e99a6a2e5-s6-c30.jpg Uhuru B and Swift9, along with other crew members whose mission is to beautify the
streets of Kenya and in this case, to demonstrate the possibility of a peaceful democratic process,
took to the streets and also came to a truce with the Transit Authority in Nairobi. This was an
important truce for obvious reasons, as well as the fact that in 2007, part of the violence that
preceded the elections involved the riotous destruction of train tracks.
Graffiti as a Tool for Social Justice: JR & Tatyana Fazlalizadeh
French street artist JR has assumed responsibility for facilitating the representation of
oppressed and vulnerable populations throughout the world. One project, Women are Heroes,
2008 (figs. 8 & 9), both by title and content elevates the status of women in slums throughout the
world, and began in Morro da Providência, Rio de Janeiro Brazil’s oldest favela. The enormous
images of women’s eyes appeared after the Brazilian Army and a narco-mafia apparently
murdered several men from the community. Most of the women he photographed for this project
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were mothers with something devastating in common: each had lost a child to the recent military
police violence in the favela.
Figure 8. JR, Women are Heroes, 2008. Wheat-pasted Photographs. Rio De Janeiro, Brazil. Source: http://www.popomo.com/research/blog/wpcontent/uploads/2008/08/rio4.jpg The same women’s photographs were also brought to the Louis-Phillipe Bridge in
Paris, France. JR focuses most of his projects on the subject’s eyes, and he says this is because
the eyes are the essence the person. In an ideal world, these women would have the resources to
represent themselves in this way, but because this is not yet possible, the work of JR can be
considered second best to that.
He never speaks for the women he photographs and represents, and when asked
about them, he suggests that the inquisitor speak with the women themselves. That he forces the
viewer to look into the eyes of and truly see these women, to recognize that the people inside the
favela are not so different than those on the outside, brings significance to his work as an
endeavor towards social justice for those women and the children they lost. The Women are
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Heroes project continued in several more countries, including India, Kenya, Sierra Leone,
Liberia and Cambodia.9
Figure 9. JR, Women Are Heroes, 2009, Wheat-‐Pasted Photographs. Around Ile St.-‐Louis, Paris. Source: http://imworld.aufeminin.com/dossiers/D20091012/01-‐women-‐are-‐heroes-‐JR-‐133421_L.jpg African-American and Iranian artist Tatyana Fazlalizadeh has taken on the issue of
street harassment with her ongoing project Stop Telling Women to Smile (fig. 10). The creation
of street art around this issue is critical for women. Street harassment that women face on a daily
basis is a pervasive problem, and it is invisible to the half of the population who do not
experience it: men. Unless, of course, they are the perpetrator of the harassment—or with the
creation of Fazlalizadeh’s project, unless they see her posters pasted on the streets.
9 JR, Women are Heroes, (New York: Abrams, 2012), 5.
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Figure 10. Tatyana Fazlalizadeh, Stop Telling Women to Smile, ongoing. Wheat-paste Poster. Various Cities. Source: https://s3.amazonaws.com/ksr/assets/000/861/661/4da6914b38a9a8cd82cc87 12a3dc6b2d_large.jpg?1377534078 Because it is extremely difficult to legally combat street harassment due to its
ambiguity, and due to a patriarchal culture that invades nearly every aspect of everyday life for
all genders, this project empowers women to speak back to men that harass them in the streets. It
is inarguable that this is a positive cultural contribution to public space. Fazlalizadeh wheat-
pastes giant posters with messages such as, “Stop Telling Women to Smile,” “My Name is Not
Baby, Shorty, Sweetie, Honey, Pretty, Boo, Sweetheart, Ma,” and “Women Do Not Owe You
Their Time or Conversation.”
Constructed Differences Between “Criminals” and Cops
Finally, if the chosen case studies are not adequately compelling, one of the fundamental
assumptions made by any organized society is that there is a drastic difference between the
police and the criminals—that they are, necessarily, binary opposites. However, Vandal Squad is
the personal account of NYPD Police Officer Joe Rivera and his experience in the 1980s through
the 1990s as a transit cop in NYC. He goes into great detail in order to explain that, while he did
end up on the “right side” of the law, it was not necessarily pre-destined to be that way. He
believes that he could have just as easily ended up as one of the kids he arrested for graffiti, and
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explains that because he was from a neighborhood that produced many of those writers he really
just “got lucky.”10
Rivera even admits and discusses his own fascination with the sub-culture, and his
account truly offers an alternative perspective to other government- and police-produced
propaganda about graffiti writers as leading overtly delinquent lifestyles. This proves that, while
the lives of graffiti writers might seem hopelessly far-removed from non-criminal, “law-abiding”
mindsets, there are often more similarities than differences between graffiti writers and those
responsible for policing them.
And Rivera is not the only officer of the law to express interest in or a fascination with
the “other” side: there is ample evidence that the police and graffiti writers often have
surprisingly intimate relationships in the form of ongoing cat-and-mouse games. In a radio
segment entitled “Spray My Name Spray My Name” on episode 309 of the program This
American Life (2006), Ira Glass discusses the interactions between Vandal Squad cops and
graffiti writers. Glass says, “In an odd way, a Vandal Squad cop can become a graffiti writer’s
biggest fan.”
One officer, Lieutenant Mona, describes a situation in which a graffiti writer acquired the
officer’s profile information and began to paint the Lieutenant’s name instead of his own on the
wall. Graffiti writers even give officers various nicknames. Additionally, Glass says, cops are
sometimes the only ones other than the writers that can actually read the tags. They are
absolutely intertwined with those who commit the “crime” of graffiti, and yet, they admit that it
is very difficult to catch a graffiti writer—they spend countless hours tracking, tracing, and
10 Joseph Rivera (Vandal Squad: Inside the New York City Transit Police Department 1984-2004, Brooklyn: powerHouse Books, 2008).
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playing a tireless game of hide-and-seek with the elusive creators of graffiti. This is how the
interaction becomes a relationship rather than an incident.
Graffiti writer Revs wrote his entire life story out on walls between subway stops. In the
end, he had pages in between almost every train stop in the city. According to Glass, he achieved
“one of the most extensive and sustained graffiti projects of all time.”
He wrote his autobiography in 235 four-foot by ten-foot installments, in the dark, in a
place where nobody could read it. The pages are signed, numbered, and dated. Glass says, “They
are quite moving and impressive, and even Lieutenant Mona thought they were interesting.” He
writes everything, down to his place and weight at birth. The officer who caught him had read
more of his pages than quite possibly anyone else, and Revs turned out to be a 33 year-old man
from a working-class neighborhood. As Glass points out, “Not so different than any of the cops
pursuing him.”
Figure 11. REVS, Diary Page 228, circa 1989. New York City Subway. Spray Paint. Source: http://img138.imageshack.us/img138/2043/revs228id4.jpg