An imprisoned woman surveys the street from behind bars, a godess balances the life that walks beneath her gaze, a musician from every genre is immortalized by the corner they occupy, and I am caught between. Street Art, plastered upon walls and signs from Greenwich Village to Brooklyn, of all different scales, encapsuletes the life from which it was born and ingrains itself into life yet to be established.
It's creators, rebels and anarchists, the artists that take their work beyond gallery walls, beyond exhibition spaces, and beyond permission. Rooted in counter culture and social and political activism, street art begs for a reaction within the public who views it. In many ways, becoming a more accessable way of absorbing an artist's work, there are no entrance fees, no artist profit, and no compromises.
The Bowery district of New York City is home to works of all different varieties. Each one acting as a memory or reminder communicated to the urban space from the artist. It's most recent attraction, a mural by Banksy, that extends the legnth of the building behind it covered in black tally marks. As I approached this wall, the marks enlarged until they were towering over my head, just one of them near the length of my stature.
In place of a signature, the bottom right of the piece reads "FREE ZEHRA DOGAN," a Turkish journalist and painter who was sentenced to 2 years and 10 months of jail for producing a painting depicting the destruction of a Kurdish town with Turkish flags flying over the debris.
Dogan, though trapped behind a set of marks, grasps onto a pencil, determined to continue spreading her message despite her restricted state. The creation of one controversial piece of art in reflection of another controversial work propells the conversation beyond just Dogan and the institutions imprisoning her, between Dogan, Banksy, and the public.
Walk a block away and another freshly painted work can be seen peering over a subway entrance. This work commemorating the #marchforourlives campaign, the movement to prevent gun violence that drove in over a million participants worldwide on Saturday, March 24. As I passed this work I couldn't help but feel the glare of the sorrowful yet stern eyes of the youth depicted in the mural staring back at me as if to say enough is enough. The statement made by this mural and others like it is not just powerful, it is reality-altering and revealing of a society determined to make change happen, art as just one outlet of doing so.
Viewing this piece, I couldn't believe how soon it was completed, the march occurring just a few days prior. "There are so many statements being made and they're all put up so quickly as if the moment people react to the issues being talked about is the moment they take to the streets and start working," one onlooker commented.
On the other side of the bridge, a vibrant Brooklyn is booming with art. Shepard Fairey, famed graphic designer and founder of OBEY Clothing, is perhaps most notable for his work as a street artist, and one that gets government approval no less. Though he had made his name through "OBEY Giant" stickers as a college student, his art has since been featured in contemporary art museums worldwide and representative of immigration reform and even the campaign of president of the United States. One of his most famous street pieces, the Lotus Woman Mural, was introduced to the side of the BQE in August of 2012 and has attracted the attention of residents, tourists, and the neighborhood itself ever since.
As I stood before the Lotus Woman, I was saddened to see that her once omnipotent image had faded. Her striking portrait, manifested in Fairey's signature deep red and off-white, bruised and buffed from age. Once was her maternal portrait, upholding "peace" and "justice," the guide and protector of all who entered Dumbo. At present, the first image people see when they exit the F train at York Street, a worn version of her former self.
Still, Dumbo, or the district under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass, has embraced the image of the Lotus Woman despite her current condition. Fairey's influence, as well as the influence of other street artists, is revealed through flags, shops, and even the style of the resident's themselves, it's establishment as one of New York City's most beloved art districts. Dumbo is certainly not what it used to be. This area has become increasingly gentrified as the attraction to its bohemian vibe and art scene has risen over the past decade.
Fairey explained his choice in location as being a public space, "owned by the people," intending to make spectators think and create controversy without crossing any lines that don't need to be crossed. He believes that "everything is in flux," and encourages those against his change to go "pioneer the next neighborhood."
"I think it's [the art] great, it gives color to the neighborhood and helps define it. It's all so diverse and really represents the community."
Sometimes the art is in reaction to some great issue that our society is currently grappling with, sometimes it's just a reflection of life in general. Either way the images depicted need to be communicated somehow and this is an impactful way of doing it, of having people speak to each other about what's real.
