I regularly walk through the city centre and am especially drawn to the alleys and lanes that feature urban art. I’m not talking about the senseless tagging, obscene scribbles and outright vandalism on bins and bus shelters, I’m talking about art. Urban art. I’m not advocating vandalism, I’m celebrating a medium and artist that is often misunderstood.
The laneways in Perth are narrow and criss cross the streets and malls but unlike Melbourne, our laneways have not developed into a thriving micro-cafe culture. Perth’s alleys are still grubby delivery shafts featuring warped and rusted fire exits, rubbish bins, roller doors, and air conditioning vents. They’re off limits at night except to the souls who wander the streets but by day, they reveal an interesting contrast between beauty and dereliction.
I love it. I love the serendipity of finding a new piece. I love the scale and the detail. I love the subtext of the piece – it’s clever work. It thrills me more than lining up to see a travelling collection of Picasso’s at the Art Gallery. I love the transient nature of it, only surviving until city officials find it and cover it over with a messy paint job that only ever looks worse.
I love the fact it is hidden and has been created unseen. Designs have been patiently developed in note books and perfected in time, replicated over and over until every line is known by heart, saving time on the spot. Artists wait for the moment, the right time, the right place, the right wall, the right space before pouring out their soul onto the wall for some people to find. Here are some examples from the inner city alleys. Next week I hope to track down some work from Stormie Mills, it’s genius.
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