Girl with the tear stained face

30 Jul

There’s something about the timing of art. When something truly wonderful hits you at the right time, it can make you reconsider everything or leave you teetering with delirium.

I’ve walked down lanes where I wanted to twirl and squeal with delight after chancing upon nets of lights hanging high in alleys off Chinatown. Pasteups and stencils can fill me with frisson one moment and then casual disinterest the next.

It’s that timing, that ability to take a turn down the streets and lanes of Melbourne and take an active interest in your surroundings rather than become inured, distracted by the daily mundane.

It’s that ability to take the overlooked and weary and transform it as part of an individual or collective act. To leave a stamp of yourself, to think about the environment around you and remark aloud to the community. Or, it’s just a delicious act of aesthetic self-absorption.

The symbiotic trend of people photographing pieces is a polarised one with some artists apprecitive of the practice and others dismissive. Given I head out regularly to photograph favoured pieces, my stance is evident though I always feel slightly shamed whenever spotted. Despite the joy of looking at a new piece placed on the onion skin walls of Melbourne, it’s hard to escape the feelings of being carrion with a camera.

It’s so much more than graphic art. While not necessarily stifling under the halogens of fine art, its roots lay much deeper. A folk movement where semiotics can be shared with a knowing wink and tap of the nose. Art that truly connects with the world around it, forcing contemplation – sometimes, just sometimes, it shows prospicience with an unsuspecting audience.

Gorgeous story about the unwitting inspiration behind one of Melbourne’s best pieces of street art.

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