UNDERCOVER: Sometimes an artist remains anonymous even though their works are sought after.
RIGA - I have a question for you. When was the first art work created in the world? Of course, defining “art” can be difficult, but the oldest known prehistoric pieces are the series of Stone Age petroglyphs, discovered during the 1990s in India. Geological investigations of ancient quartzite caves established that this rock art dates to at least 290,000 BCE. But who’s to say those “holes in the wall” weren’t created by some surly teenager grounded in his bedroom grotto for a week for skipping hunting practice? It may be far-fetched, but in a thousand-year’s-time, when the citizens of the world uncover the base of a bridge or broken wall covered with graffiti, what will they say about it? And what will they learn about us?
Latvia’s graffiti scene started in the ’80s. Soviet occupation meant strict censorship of anything anti-politics and the movement, which emerged in New York in the ’60s, only filtered through two decades later. It was blended with the Hip Hop dance genre, introduced through DJs and allowed youngsters a kind of freedom of expression, albeit illegal. Penalties for defacing buildings, legally jargoned ‘malicious hooliganism,’ included a 3-5 year prison sentence or exclusion from the Young Communist League. A short walk around Riga’s city streets shows the consequences, if caught, were not a big enough threat to deter the painters, then and now.
Known Latvian street artist KIWIE painted his first piece in 2004, but was influenced during his childhood. “I remember when I first saw something from graffiti when I was only a kid… Somebody just came and painted the wall without asking anyone for permission. There was this ‘I want to know’ feeling and I wanted to be a part of this game. Then I just jumped in the train. It was pretty fast. One day you’re sketching, another doing a wall in Graffiti Jam.”
When he says “jam” he’s not referring to a condiment for your morning toast. As a culture, graffiti and street art has its own language, which is part and parcel of belonging to this crowd. Words or phrases like “cannon,” “dress-up” or “hat” are not what they seem. (See side bar for definitions.) Identity is everything – or rather, becoming known but staying hidden, is the objective. KIWIE said: “Friends know me, some other people know me as well. A lot of people I know don’t know what I’m actually doing. I try not to mix my normal identity with the street world. I want my works to be famous, not my face. I’m not doing something bad to walls; I’m just putting some color on it. I’m living once, and [for] a pretty damn short time, so I need to leave something behind me.”
“At the start it was because of fun and turned out to be a lifestyle and a part of me. It’s still fun. I can’t imagine myself working in some coffee shop. All the time I want to do more, because I know I can do better and better. Even if it seems, ‘This is it!’ I could do better. This feeling, it’s always with me. I want to create a new style and in order to do that I need to do a lot.”
Regarding those who own the buildings getting graffiti-ed, KIWIE said: “Mostly they say: ‘Now you’ve got yourself in big trouble, boy!’ But then you realize it’s because you put some color on their wall, and you start to laugh. It’s the same as everywhere. It depends on the damage. If the owner of the building is suing you, then you’ve got some pretty big trouble. Four years in jail. But you need to be some badass [for that to happen].”
Calling graffiti and street art the same thing is the same as saying there’s no difference between a lion and a zebra.
KIWIE says, “To explain better, true graffiti is about ‘bombing’ - to take over a city and trains and all other places, wherever you can get to, and do some damage. Here it’s about speed, to do everything as fast as possible and get out. It’s about writing your name so everyone can read it and remember. That’s the main goal for graffiti writers. But street art is something totally different. It’s not about damage; it’s about beautiful pictures and funny or not so funny… ironic paintings. Mostly it’s with some kind of social message. In one word, street art is ‘sweet;’ graffiti is ‘aggressive.’ But nowadays it’s pretty much mixing together, so it might be confusing to understand what is what.”
“And confusing for those who try to give artistic merit to the work. “But then, why do you buy a big black painting with a small pink dot in the middle spending $15,000? It is, and it’s not, art at the same time. And that’s the beauty of it, I think. It depends on what kind of eyes you’re looking with. For example, if you see a tag on the street, a crappy one, you say, ‘Damn you little ****!’ And then you see the same tag in a fashion magazine on some lady’s dress designed by some famous fashion designer and you say: ‘Well this is so original; I want to spend my savings on this!’ I believe that art is everything that is created by humans. Without so-called ‘art,’ people would not be able to build houses, cities, to survive. I believe art is not just about a beautiful picture, it’s about how you think and do stuff,” he adds.
A misconception from those who dislike street art is that artists try to get a piece done as quickly as possible with no thought about what’s being painted or where it’s being placed. KIWIE said the way he chooses a location for his work is always done with open eyes: “I like to plan my spots, but sometimes it’s pretty much spontaneous. It depends. I choose old walls, so when you see my character somewhere, it’s a sign that this building needs cosmetic rebuilding.”
The time it takes to create a piece depends on several factors. “If the spot is quiet, about 20-30 minutes; if it’s a rush and you need to hide all the time, one to two hours; if it’s a big wall, around eight hours.”
Street artists are not motivated by the thought that there’s a blank wall or fence, and because no one lives in that burned-out house it’s an open invitation for defacing. There are unwritten rules about where you can, and where you shouldn’t place your work. “That’s how you understand if the painter is a good painter or just a ‘toy,’ which a kid who doesn’t understand much about graffiti, and doesn’t know the rules,” KIWIE explained. “Good painters will never do damage to important historic buildings… Although here in Riga it’s pretty hard to say which buildings are historical, because mostly the most shitty looking walls belong to historical buildings. I think it depends on the place and artist. No one will do a tag on the Monument of Freedom, for sure.”
It’s tagging that can give a city an undesirable look, however. An artist’s tag is their mark of identification, and contributes to recognition. This is what many politicians and citizens see as vandalism, rather than something that enhances a street’s appearance. A seven-second scrawl across a concrete barricade, compared with a multi-colored mural, are as dissimilar as chalk and cheese.
There have been attempts to curb the spread of graffiti around Riga through organized campaigns at pedestrian tunnels, and building managers covering work as soon as they see it. This has not deterred the artists, though. Perhaps part of the issue is accessibility to supplies. “It’s pretty easy because we have some shops here which provide us with materials,” KIWIE said. “…The face of the city is changing all the time.”
And it’s not always under the cover of darkness. KIWIE has been commissioned to paint his signature character around Riga. “People are asking me to paint all kinds of stuff. Even some walls in the city center. There was a situation when I was doing a picture of a character, and a security guy come up to me and asked if I did this. I said, “No, what the …? I’m just taking picture.” And he just said, “If you find who did this, tell him to do another on the wall next to this one.” And that’s not the first time.”
It may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but doesn’t the saying go that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Unless serious funding is allocated to wipe out all graffiti – including the murals, stencil works and stickers popping up – this is a culture which will continue to have a voice and place around Riga and throughout Latvia.
“I think because that we’re so small and live in some weird place called the Baltics - a lot of people ask where it is - we generate our own style, so when artists from other countries visit Latvia, they’re surprised about what’s going on in the streets and the scene.”
So, eyesore or an ornament of history? Only time will tell.
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