Alphabet Soup 2: Evolving the Letter Form and Reaching New Audiences

Alphabet Soup 2, an exhibit at Galerie F in Chicago's Logan Square organized by Fullhearted, and sponsored by Modest is rapidly approaching its terminus, next Tuesday, October 7th. The show is a high caliber representation of diverse styles and great talent, exploring and developing the typographic form for an evolving and expanding audience. I had the privilege of attending the opening night for the show, and chatting with its organizers, Melon James and Fonzo.

Fonzo explained that the show "is an exploration of letter form and typography through the street artists. So, a lot of these guys, they don't necessarily have to do street art because a lot of them have evolved into different venues and what have you. But letter form definitely has to be a part of their production." Made up of primarily street artists and graffiti artists, the show offers a range of approaches and mediums. From simple prints to three dimensional train cars and cut wood pieces, the letter form achieves a kind of versatility and tactility that is rarely encountered.

Clam Nation. "Hinky Candor." Acrylic and Ink on found sign. Photo credit: Caitlin Bruce

Jonski. "Speak of the Devil." Gouache and watercolor on paper. Photo credit: Caitlin Bruce

Alter. "Quiet." Acrylic on wood. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Melon further elaborated on the goal of the exhibit: "We decided, Fullhearted, decided to bring together not only just local graffiti artists, but also graffiti artists that have also pushed new limits out there and are pretty much setting trends, and inspiring other graffiti artists...the idea of the show is basically letter form and design as seen through the graffiti artists, meaning that they are not necessarily typographers or graphic designers, they might have a degree in something, but you can't get a degree in graffiti.

Fullhearted. Melon and Fonzo. Galerie F. Photo credit: Caitlin Bruce

Importantly, the show also pays homage to a street artist, Brooks Golden, who passed away earlier this year. Upon entering the gallery one encounters his signature owls with the simple placard "Not for sale." expressing poignantly the depth that his loss has been to friends and colleagues in the Chicago arts community. Within a glass display case are some of his sketch books, offering a look at the evolution of his style.

Brooks Golden. Not for Sale.

Tribute to Brooks Golden.

On the other side of the gallery are the participants in the show, including a Roy Lichtenstein-esque piece by Asend, as well as some atypical pieces by Melon, who departs from his iconic faceless women to take up a meditation on the opacity and transparencies of paint, letter, and form. One can see some aesthetic connections across the walls: Cove and Melon's pieces both explore the visibility and opacities in painted form

Cove.

Melon, "Whitewash." Aerosol and latex paint on wood. Photo credit: Caitlin Bruce

Melon observes, of "Whitewash":

"My pieces, I felt, were more much deeper than what I normally do with the girls [that he paints] and stuff like that. I think what it was was taking something, because it was letter form and design, I wanted to veer away from the character form, for a little bit, and I wanted to focus my attention on the letter structure , and how could I make this work. I started to think about if I just did some hard core graffiti, or graffiti that is noticeable, how would somebody react to hanging that in their livingroom, or somewhere in their house, you know? So I decided I wanted to use that and kind of make it delicate, and soft, and push it to a more contemporary style, and I succeeded, I think. I think it did pretty well. One of my inspirations was that I had a mural that was whitewashed not too long ago, with NMOS, and so I felt like taking that and using that, the idea of the whitewash. I played with that for a while. I was going to do a matte white on a glossy white, and it just didn't feel right, so I think I did it really well with the colors and the way I balanced everything out on the canvas."

EGGS investigates different physical textures and dimensionality, using the name tag and the accumulation of spraypaint to create a sculptural sensation that made this viewer muse upon the palimpsests of paint across the city, and how the name is both visible (as tag) and invisible (as physical body).

EGGS. "Hello my name is." Spraypaint on wood. Photo credit: Caitlin Bruce

TUBZ, too, explores how the letter takes on form, in expressing the letter through its reduction of material, in wood burning. This style echoes stylistic boundary pushing by global figures such as Vhils, who remind viewers that urban scenes are structurally based just as much on reduction and destruction as they are on construction and accumulation of materiality.

TUBZ, "Beauty." Pyrography on wood panel. Photo credit: Caitlin Bruce

A similar experiment in material reduction and layering appears in Jash's work.

Jash. "Alpha Echo." Mixed media framed. Photo credit: Caitlin Bruce

Jash. Detail. Photo credit: Caitlin Bruce

A key element of the show is its attempt to translate graffiti to a new audience without giving up on the letter form. If one asks enough graffiti artists, and reads enough books about the genre's history, a clear division emerges between how the general public perceives and approaches characters versus letters. Characters are legible, identifiable, allow for emotional project. Letters, on the other hand, can be seen as illegible, threatening, oblique. What this show does so interestingly is try to make letters beautiful without necessarily caving to the imperative to be legible. Melon points this out when referencing Asend's work:

Asend. "Levels." Spraypaint on wood. Photo credit: Caitlin Bruce

"Asend is taking graffiti to a whole other level, to the point where I think he is still trying to understand his style. But because he already has a certain style and format for how he does things he is taking what he does and making it work for the art world. Making it work in a gallery, where people won't be ashamed to hang this up on their wall, as opposed to just somebody's name. Even if it says his [Asend's] name, he is going to do it in a way that people are going to like. Another guy, Tubz, he has also got some work where he does a lot of handstyles. People think that hand styles and calligraphy are just simple lines, or something like that, but there is more to it, especially when it comes to someone who pretty much focuses their study on that....that the show is pushing new heights, new levels of inspiration for people who are into graffiti... the show is basically pushing boundaries. We have people in here creating influences, not only to the younger generation but they are also creating influences to people outside of graffiti, and people who don't understand graffiti can actually come out and appreciate what graffiti artists...the work that they put into it."

Asend. Detail.

The effectiveness of the prior show (Alphabet Soup) in drawing a diverse audience, including non-graffiti afficionados, as well as devotées, was evident in the density of the crowd but also its relative (at least visible) ethnic, racial, and economic diversity. People who had no clue about graffiti were showing up and enjoying the work.

Bates. "Sign my name." Acrylic on Canvas. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Fonzo is not a street artist, but he supports them and through his comic art also explores textuality, the unconscious, and his own identity.

Fonzo. "Moon bats and space crafts." Brush, ink, and paper in found frame.

Fonzo explained that he came up with the characters eight years ago, while "living at the Salvation Army. Soon after that, one of my roommates who was a member of Earth, Wind and Fire, one of the drummers on the south side of Chicago. So through all my misadventures I think, Skid Joe is very relateable to my own personality, who I am and who I was, and the fun kind of naivete of his sidekick, Chinchilla, is very much who kind of got me into trouble, and its sort of a character who you don't necessarily know if he is real or just a part of his imagination. Some sort of bizarre protagonist...characters that I developed that have a deep connection to my inner psyche."

We talked a bit more about the characters. Like Freud's irrepressible Id, Chinchilla persuades and manipulates Skidrow Joe into impossible situations, and the comics explore shame (there is a lot of nakedness!), violence, and anxiety. These seemingly banal images are expressive of the deep structures of human experience, where, the unsavory elements of the Id can be sublimated into something smoother, and possibly beautiful.

Cosbe. "The Youth Demand My Vision in Question." 

Or, quite productively, it can remain a troubling reminder that humanity is not all smooth corners and comfortable belonging: it is scary, isolating, and unpredictable.

Angry Woebots. "Woes." Acrylic on Wood. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

This, I think, is also crucial in the context of graffiti (and street art's) increasing visibility for a more general audience. For it to remain critical, some of these hard edges must not be worn away. Fonzo's intense attention to detail, crispness of line and text, demonstrates how the typographic is not simply a means to an end, it is a vital component of public expression in a new machine age, one that deserves explication, and a wider audience.

Galerie F, abuzz. Photo credit: Caitlin Bruce

Thanks to Fonzo and Melon for making time to talk, and get thee to Alphabet Soup 2 before it closes!

Meeting of Styles Chicago 2014

This weekend I had the opportunity to return to Chicago for the annual Meeting of the Styles festival. Following the event since 2010, I am always glad to return to this sort of multiple-block-party as my friend Outlet put it nicely, finding old friends and new people to learn from about the history and present of the graffiti movement in Chicago.

There have been some important changes since the last MOS I attended in Chicago in 2012 (I was out of the country in 2013). The community has lost some of its graffiti family, including Dwork, Brooks Golden, Shadow, and others. There have been some incremental gestures of recognition on behalf of the city, particularly in the 2013 Paint Sticker Paste show at the Chicago Cultural Center. And yet,  fines for illegal graffiti have gone up in the multiple thousand dollar range, as Venom, Komed, and other writers explained to me, making the importance of legal venues for writing even more important.

And so, MOS continues to occupy a kind of liminal space between the underground and the visible, where writers can have a space to discuss their history and concerns about their art's future with colleagues and volitional family from across the sprawling city that is Chicago.

Cellograff. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Cellograff. Day 2 Party. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Stef G. Day 2 Party. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Day 2 Warehouse Party. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

MOS Day 2 Party. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Taking place September 11 to September 14th, it was kicked off with a party at Gallery Bar, with signature cocktails named after MOS and some of the international writers, such as the Mexist from Mexico and Bolivia, and live rap. The sleepy eyes and hoarse voices I encountered the following night attested to the fun that was had at Gallery Bar. The gallery show on Friday at 1500 S. Western Ave in an actual warehouse, a bright spot of noise and color between blocks and blocks of silent buildings and parked trucks, offered an interesting display of canvas, photography, mixed media, and cellograff works, accompanied by DJing, and rapping, including free styling by Juice. GRIME TIME and Stef Skillz shirts were on sale, and beer and food was plentiful. Despite the abysmal weather, a kind of constant cold misting, many folks turned out, and danced, rhymed, and caught up with old friends. Most of the rapping was about MOS itself, or graffiti more generally, telling a history of each rapper's relationship with graffiti and hip hop, how it is a way of life, and a world of intimacy.

Day one of painting I didn't get to see all of the walls. Instead I had the opportunity to catch up with old friends, seeing Demon and Zore flit around with organizational duties, as well as Keath Sodapop, watch Hek, Stef, and the rest of the XMen crew plan out their "Malificent" themed mural, and Statik, Genie, Rome, and the rest of RK Design lay down outlines and initial characters for a post-apocalyptic robotic/alien universe. I learned that AIM (and old school NYC writer who as active in writing on trains from the beginning), along with Opik, Phor, Susan of Art Crimes, C3PO, Christina (art curator and event coordinator), were part of a national mural tour creating commemorations of Shadow, graffiti writer and Spike Lee's recently deceased brother, the making of which was being recorded and then sent back to Lee to be used in a future documentary. This strange simultaneously local and national enactment of mourning at MOS, which, has an annual theme, but one that is only loosely followed by most participants, created a different kind of energy. This work, and by extension, this snapshot of MOS is going to take on a life of its own as part of another visual filmic project that extends beyond the graffiti and likely will reach a large audience of non-graffiti writers as well as graffiti writers. Whether it will raise the public profile of MOS, or just position MOS as background remains to be seen.

My first oral history session was with Mexist (MX-Bolivia), whose style is colorful, dynamic, wildstyle but without too many swirls and dips. He was also making a female character with a bandera that ultimately read: "Basta la violencia contra la mujer!"/"Stop violence against women!" A theme he often draws on in his work at home in Boliva to confront endemic domestic violence. He became involved in graffiti por curiosidad, because of curiosity, seeing a good deal of it in Toluca where he grew up, and always interested in calligraphy and hand styles. He does more political work in full visibility, once painting in front of a colegio/grammar school, where after school may of the children brought him drawings they had done. Through this practice, he also is able to educate the young about political issues. I was able to meet El Diablo, from Paris, and Luco, from Italy, though both were too busy to chat.

The Mexist. 30th and Sawyer. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Back at Crawford I had the opportunity to talk with Susan from Art Crimes about the crucial role the online archive has played in connecting writers across the world, and its future role for art historians, because, due to its history and breadth, it will enable art scholars to understand the stylistic trends that form the basis for future styles. This online "curating" is one Susan engages in carefully and ethically. She takes every possible caution in protecting writers' identities, from eliminating identifying information in digital photographs themselves, to waiting several years before publishing anything on a passenger train, cautioning writers not to send her things that may put her in danger. This ethic of careful archiving is apparent in her passion for the activity, and the commitment she had to learning how to judge quality of graffiti as graffiti writers would judge it: cleanliness, innovation, composition, letter structure, etc. Founded in 1994, Art Crimes was the first of its kind, presaging a wave of graffiti writers assuming careers in graphic design and web design.

I also met Opik who had been part of a panel on Friday at the National Veteran's Museum of Chicago where they discussed graffiti as a kind of therapy for PTSD. Opik is also part of the group making the Shadow RIP mural. I talked to Picaso as well, an old school Evanston writer, who talked about the importance of graffiti for youth to have alternatives to violence, and also what it is like "shaking the rust off" and getting back into painting, "practicing against drywall" in his basement before getting back to walls. He also mentioned the strong influence NYC writing had on Chicago writers in the 1980s. Finally, I met with old school legend, Trixter Feds, who discussed not only his stylistic evolution, but graffiti's potential role as a kind of information system: a visual embodiment of our technological age, and explained that arts preservation (virtual or physical) is one of the key issues facing the graffiti community.

PUMA Crew DIZ and PICASO. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

AIM. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Luco. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

El Diablo. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Trixter. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Day two was quieter, perhaps because of the Mexican Independence Day celebrations, or from fatigue from partying. Even so, there was some magnificent work done. The Wall of Style was nearly complete, as well as the 36th and Albany wall, including a detailed post-apocalyptic alien/robotic universe by RK design as well as pieces by Momentum Art. Around the corner, a complex maritime scene was taking form with large burners, pirates, mermaids, and ships.

Across from that was the finished RIP Shadow mural, the creation of which was filmed from 10am onwards.

I visited the 27th and Kedzie wall, which had gotten a bit of a later start so pieces were at a midway point. I spoke with Komed, who pointed out the way that the "Rules of Graffiti" letter at Crawford offers a sharp encapsulation and representation of graffiti ethics.

I chatted with Rese, of UB or UBC crew, who had pioneered by creating a proto-facebook forum for graffiti writers in the late nineties, a space that "lots of people [say] made them friends" in the real world. Moreover, his style was distinct: clean, with an interesting almost smoke-like background. I talked to Bel of KCM about the increasing visibility MOS has in Little Village, with "more and more" families visiting, and yet, Venom of J4F expressed a sense that in some ways, it is less dense and occupied that it used to be. My final discussion was with Phor/Keath Sodapop, who underlined the critical role that graffiti plays to create a sense of belonging and feeling "special" for writers.

RESE. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Bel. 30th and Sawyer. Photo credit: Caitlin Bruce

Venom. Crawford. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Although graffiti still fights negative stigma, outright police prosecution, and limited access to public space, Meeting of Styles continues to be a sort of laboratory for innovation, recombination, and the exchange of styles. It is still a space for mentorship, for care between old school and new. And, importantly, as Trixter helped me formulate "like the scene in Pleasantville when things go from black and white to color," it functions to warm up industrial landscapes and literally mark the complex human interactions that happen on and around such monumental blocks.

I am extremely grateful to all the folks I got to meet and talk with this weekend, as well as the tireless efforts of organizers Demon and Zore. Big ups.

BrainKiller/The Champ. 30th and Sawyer. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Malificent, Stef G. Photo Credit: Stef G.

RIP Shadow Mural. 36th and Albany. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

RIP Mural. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

RK Design Production. Photo Credit: Caitlin Bruce

Exploring Pittsburgh's Visual Culture: Graffiti and Street Art Around Golden Way

Moving to a new institution is interesting because while many things stay the same (student questions, academic communities, and carving out time for life sustaining activities like eating, exercising, and bathing) the frame shifts, and for me, that frame is the city.

Pittsburgh is weird. It has counterintuitive driving and public transit practices. The "Pittsburgh left" is an (illegal) convention that offers a courtesy left turn when normally those going straight have the right of way. No bus I have been on opens the back doors, and even more perversely, during rush hour one must pay at the front of the bus on the way out, creating a clusterf__ of crowding, crankiness, and inefficiency. French fries are sprinkled on salads with wild abandon.

And yet, it is also a small enough place where one can go to another neighborhood in under ten minutes, yet large enough that there are often several cultural events taking place on the same weekends, and these events are packed.

It is no surprise, then, that Pittsburgh's graffiti culture is difficult to access, not immediately visible, and unevenly inscribed from neighborhood to neighborhood. This past weekend my partner and I decided to walk around a road that curves around the middle of the Polish Hill neighborhood and empties out near the Bloomfield Bridge. We'd seen higher concentrations of graffiti driving through, and like most things Pittsburgh, an exterior look is not sufficient.

We first tried to park on a turn off area and were foiled, learning that these indents were in fact steep inclines, not hospitable to our little Hyundai. Instead, we parked in the residential street at the end, or beginning, of Golden Way. This too was complicated, as we learned, from residents heading out for the day, the neighbors ahead of them were very "particular" about having cars parked in front of their house. We were baffled, since it was a city parking area, but, as non native Pittsburghers and non Polish Hill residents, we tried to oblige. To be a pedestrian along Golden Way, one walks under a bridge, and behind the rail guards on a narrow and curving two way street. We were first greeted by a man made of metal, perched on an outcrop and surveying spatters of paint on the opposite side of the bridge support, was well as peering over a vista of Bloomfield, Children's Hospital prominently visible on top.

On the inside of the guard rail were cryptic and not-so-cryptic inscriptions: "Sally got a big butt," "MeaL," "No Shadyside in Polish Hill." These markers underscore a tacit sensation that one may receive as an outsider in the neighborhood, which is that the lines between inside and outside are emphatically drawn. Due to the geography of the neighborhood, perched atop a steep hill, and the political economy of the city, one that means only one bus runs there, Polish Hill is fairly isolated. It is also more affordable than Shadyside, a more gentrified and clearly bourgeois neighborhood, and so, the sharpee declaration illuminates class tensions and anxieties in a city that is also on its way towards more extensive gentrification (see Lawrenceville for a clear map of this).

This warning was situated across from another territorial marker, a large POLISH HILL throwup made with paint rollers, its angular, flat style mimicking the many industrial zones in Pittsburgh itself. Directly in front of the informal sign was a small formal metal one with a butterfly and arrow pointing directly at the underpass reading simply, "No Spray," a formalized reminder of graffiti's contested terrain, even, as a part of the wall reminded the viewer, "SO many years of great art."

 This area was complex, with the two sections of underpass behind it covered floor to ceiling with tags, throwups, and some small productions. The rush of cars overhead contrasted with the silence of the space, a silence perforated by the crunch of leaves, beer caps, and paint flakes under our feet, created a sensation of being in a holy place, a shrine of sorts. This sense of intimacy and also trespass was exacerbated by a ground inscription we found, a letter painted in white about an abusive partner, illegible in certain parts, and ghostly.

Another fragment of history was a little farther up, behind a car place leading up to the bridge itself, a crumbling mural possibly from 1997 that showed a cauldron of steel pouring down and bubbling with fire to reveal writers' names. This concrete lot seemed like an ideal place for an impromptu breakdance competition, or just quiet painting.



This short journing, beneath and behind the more visible sign of neighborhoods, underscored the importance of realizing that much of the work of "creative" populations is done under the radar, and not for a general public. In contrast to the intensely publicized Unblurred art crawl in Lawrencevill, or Gallery Night in the Downtown, Polish Hill's undersides are another space to engage the city, with quiet breath and sturdy footgear.