An American Abroad

Love is Torture, Love is a Delight

2015-04-23 15.07.34

Yeah, ain’t it the truth?

My friend Aaron Nathan directed me to these walls on 16th Street where it crosses Ashland in Chicago’s Lower West Side Pilsen neighborhood. I appreciate the advice; I never would have found them on my own. Pilsen is home to many Mexican families, and you can see the Latin American influence in the Day of the Dead images, among others.

Not everyone here shares my enthusiasm for this unauthorized public art. One local politician calls graffiti “a cancer on the city” and “the second biggest problem that we have, after shootings.” That seems a bit hyperbolic, doesn’t it? Meanwhile, the mayor of Chicago wants to increase the fines for graffiti from $750 to between $1,500 and $2,500. I suppose that the hand-wringing over graffiti is directed more toward people who tag public property with gang symbols than it is toward muralists like the ones who create the images I’ve been posting. But the law makes no distinction between a gang tag and a work of art. It’s sometimes hard to tell the difference.

Under the “broken windows” theory of policing, graffiti can make people feel unsafe, which causes people to shy away from the places where they see it, and which in turn creates a situation where the bad guys rule the streets. Perhaps that’s true. I also understand that not all graffiti is as beautiful as the murals I’ve photographed. My point is only that when I saw these walls in Pilsen, I felt more safe. The street felt happy, joyous, loved, and like a real neighborhood. I would actually have felt a little apprehensive walking around the area if I only saw ugly blank decaying concrete and cinder block walls.

2015-04-23 15.02.30

2015-04-23 15.03.09

2015-04-23 15.03.55

2015-04-23 15.04.22

2015-04-23 14.48.59

2015-04-23 14.49.29

2015-04-23 14.50.12

2015-04-23 14.50.25

2015-04-23 14.51.08

2015-04-23 15.05.57

2015-04-23 15.06.11

2015-04-23 15.06.37

2015-04-23 15.08.03

2015-04-23 15.08.20

The Giant Rat of Sumatra, Discovered

    “Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson,” said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. “It was a ship which is associated with the giant rat of Sumatra, a story for which the world is not yet prepared.”
    The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire

2015-04-23 14.36.55

We now know that the giant rat of Sumatra made its way to Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood, where it met a grisly end. The event was immortalized on a METRA viaduct at 16th and Ashland. Those wishing to see how giant a giant rat is are invited to click on the above photo.

2015-04-23 14.37.38

I wasn’t investigating vampirism. I came for the rat, which is often photographed and displayed online. But I found much more than a megarodent. Weird game pieces. Sponge Bob character rejects. Robbie the Robot. Don Quixote. Spontaneous abstract expressionism. Fleeing immigrants. And a guy with a big hat.

2015-04-23 14.40.03

2015-04-23 14.40.33

2015-04-23 14.41.02

2015-04-23 14.41.29

2015-04-23 14.42.19

2015-04-23 14.42.28

2015-04-23 14.42.45

2015-04-23 14.43.37

2015-04-23 14.43.55

2015-04-23 14.44.29

2015-04-23 14.44.48

2015-04-23 14.46.02

2015-04-23 14.46.21

2015-04-23 14.47.03

2015-04-23 14.51.49

2015-04-23 14.52.39

2015-04-23 14.58.53

2015-04-23 15.00.15

2015-04-23 15.01.27

2015-04-23 15.02.02

The 27th Street Gallery — Part 2

One of the best books I’ve read this year is Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel.

The story is set in a post-plague future where 99% of humanity is dead and the remaining few live mean and difficult lives. But the book is actually about the human need to make art, even in the most terrible of circumstances. A group of musicians and actors travels around the Great Lakes through the ruins of civilization. They play classical music and perform Shakespeare for whatever hardscrabble audiences they find. The banner on their caravan displays a quote from Star Trek: Voyager‘s Seven of Nine: “Survival is insufficient.” In this ruined future, pop cultural artifacts from the past such as graphic novels and celebrity gossip magazines are treasured and held in awe to the same degree as Shakespeare and Beethoven, though for different reasons.

I was thinking about this book as I continued my walk around 27th Street, Chicago, where it intersects Kedzie. Earlier this year, I beheld the Roman ruins at Bulla Regia and spent time communing with Amphitrite and her chums on the floor of in an underground house. Was that mosaic the graphic novel of its day? Do we venerate and preserve it nowadays in part because we know that there will be no more Roman mosaics? And if a Station Eleven-style plague really did ravage our civilization, would the graffiti murals at 27th and Kedzie one day be venerated by the descendants of our survivors? And would those descendants appreciate the murals all the more because of their incredulous understanding that such art was actually illegal in the civilization that produced it?

2015-04-23 14.06.46

2015-04-23 14.07.04

2015-04-23 14.07.35

2015-04-23 14.07.50

2015-04-23 14.08.13

2015-04-23 14.08.43

2015-04-23 14.09.01

2015-04-23 14.11.17

2015-04-23 14.11.41

2015-04-23 14.12.08

2015-04-23 14.12.41

2015-04-23 14.12.59

2015-04-23 14.13.51

2015-04-23 14.14.44

The 27th Street Gallery — Part 1

When I arrived in Chicago, among the first questions I asked friends and acquaintances was where to go to see good graffiti — unauthorized public art. Betsy Rubin, who, like me enjoys photographing such stuff, suggested I check out 27th Street where it crosses Kedzie. Yesterday morning it was clear and sunny here for a change, so I took her suggestion.

The intersection turned out to be in Little Village, a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood with a friendly feel to it. The walls that elevate the METRA tracks there have been turned into a de facto outdoor gallery that shows off some amazing work.

2015-04-23 14.00.09

I was here:

The images lining the walls are strong and precise. They’re perfectly proportioned. The colors pop and reveal often intricate details. Now consider that the artists who created them didn’t have control over their site and that they were working illegally, probably dodging police patrols during the night hours. Consider, too, that their work could lawfully be painted over, sandblasted, and destroyed by the authorities in a day. As I suspect the artists intended, I kept thinking about those challenges as I walked along the walls. There’s a certain how-did-they-do-that boastfulness in their works that, for me, contributes to the sense of wonder and delight I got when I was looking at them.

2015-04-23 14.00.36

2015-04-23 14.01.10

2015-04-23 14.01.22

2015-04-23 14.01.59

2015-04-23 14.02.31

2015-04-23 14.03.08

2015-04-23 14.03.45

2015-04-23 14.04.14

2015-04-23 14.04.42

2015-04-23 14.05.32

2015-04-23 14.05.52

2015-04-23 14.06.18

2015-04-23 14.16.39

The People Under the Viaducts

There are many murals here in Hyde Park neighborhood of Chicago, and more are apparently in the works.

2015-04-21 15.18.58

People stand under the METRA viaduct at 56th and Harper. They cluster in groups like this, each with an answer to the question, Where are you going?

2015-04-21 15.14.15

2015-04-21 15.14.27

This mural is painted on rough concrete and exposed to the harsh Chicago elements. Close-ups show the graceful decay of the images. This art isn’t static; it changes with the winters.

2015-04-21 15.14.48

2015-04-21 15.14.59

2015-04-21 15.15.21

2015-04-21 15.15.34

2015-04-21 15.16.05

2015-04-21 15.16.18

Under the viaducts, short quotes from neighborhood residents were painted on the columns, all answering the question, Where are you going?

2015-04-21 15.20.13

Further down the wall, another mural began.

2015-04-21 15.30.05

2015-04-21 15.29.42

2015-04-21 15.28.51

I was struck by the fact that these murals were painted or refurbished years ago and still look good. They haven’t been tagged or painted over by graffiti artists. While I usually prefer unauthorized and unofficial public art, perhaps the METRA is on to something here. If you put up good publicly-sponsored art, then people will respect the city’s overpasses far more than if you leave them concrete blank or put up bad art.

South along the METRA tracks, at 57th street, there are other murals, these definitely more political. They have been criticized as being “leftist.” (I can’t help but wonder if the murals had shown a happy managerial class if they would have been considered “rightist.”)

2015-04-21 15.27.25

2015-04-22 19.19.25

2015-04-22 19.20.36

2015-04-22 19.21.23

2015-04-22 19.22.56

2015-04-22 19.23.32

2015-04-22 19.24.00

2015-04-22 19.24.35

2015-04-22 19.24.48

It’s a pleasure to walk through these underpasses. It gives the neighborhood a friendly vibe, as if the folks under the viaduct are there to welcome newcomers. And new workers, as well.

2015-04-22 19.28.20

Morocco Miscellany

As so often happens, there are some photographs that don’t seem to conveniently fit into my more narrative travel posts. Here, then, are some random images of Morocco.

This first one of me was taken en route from my overnight in the Sahara. It shows me definitely in need of a shower, but happy.

DSC01736e

This shows a market town where we stopped for lunch.

DSC01708e

The photo below shows the alleyway leading to the hostel we stayed at in Marrakech, while the one below that was taken from a restaurant porch in the main square.

DSC01405e

DSC01531e

The next series was taken at an ancient madrassa, or religious school for boys. Spencer and I walked through the students’ quarters, imagining the hundreds of students who must have called a given room home for a period of time.

DSC01534e

DSC01541e

DSC01545e

DSC01551e

DSC01552e

DSC01554e

I don’t recall on which public wall this artwork had been painted, but I like it; I give it major points for originality.

DSC01566e

Finally, this last was taken at the tannery in Fes.

DSC02039e

Istanbul: Unauthorized Public Art

One advantage of being in town when many shops were closed for a holiday weekend was that I got to see more tagging, graffiti, and other UPA (Unauthorized Public Art). The artists of Karaköy use security grates and decaying buildings as their canvases. The result is an amazing public gallery.

DSC08703e

DSC08698e

DSC08694e

DSC08692e

DSC08684e

DSC08661e

DSC08657e

DSC08612e

DSC08576e

DSC08556e

DSC08563e

DSC08570e

Kuala Lumpur: KL Wildstyle

Most of the graffiti I’ve seen in China has been the mobile phone numbers of people selling stuff. I hardly realized how much I missed the real thing til I saw all of this in Kuala Lumpur. There are a lot of Utah Ether tags there — too many, really — but it was still refreshing.

2014-06-03 01.03.16e

2014-06-03 01.03.27e

2014-06-04 00.05.13e

2014-06-03 23.39.42e

2014-06-03 22.31.20e

2014-06-03 22.30.51e

2014-06-03 22.30.32e

2014-06-03 22.34.24e

2014-06-04 00.25.10e1

2014-06-04 00.25.10e2

Bangkok 10

I walk out of the Ever Rich Inn (which has turned out to be a great place to stay, by the way) for the last time at 5:45 on the morning after Christmas and am amazed that the party is still going on. Sukumvit Road at that hour is just like I first found it, with the floating sidewalk cafes still doing a brisk business. I guess they keep going til the morning pushcart vendors come to claim the turf as their own. As for me, I hail a cab. Three hours later, I’m flying back to China.

I loved Bangkok, but not for the reasons I expected. I came with a list of places I wanted to see and things I wanted to do and I didn’t see or do half of them. I spent most of my three days there just walking up and down Sukumvit Road and the sois (side-streets) that intersect it, hopping into shops, bars and restaurants at a whim, and just relaxing.
DSC03474e
I didn’t see anything particularly beautiful and I didn’t take many pictures; I just basked in the strangeness of it all.
2013-12-23 01.43.41e
I felt more culture shock than I ever have before, and that’s probably because I came to Thailand after six months in China. There’s an old joke about the differences between various countries. To adapt and paraphrase, in China everything is forbidden, including that which is expressly permitted. In Thailand, however, everything is permitted, including that which is expressly prohibited. I understand this in terms of respiration. In China, it feels like the people are holding their breath; it’s a tightly governed conservative society. In Thailand, though, people seem to breathe easily.

(Back to Bangkok 9)