Egyptian political artist Ganzeer was first featured in Political Graffiti two months ago after the Egyptian government and state-sponsored media conducted a campaign to tarnish the artist’s image. Since then, Ganzeer was profiled in The New York Times and is in New York City. After meeting him for the first time after his talk at Interference Archive in Brooklyn on July 23, he agreed to sit down for an interview.

Ryan Purcell: Where does the name “Ganzeer” come from? 

Ganzeer: Ganzeer is Arabic for “speed chain,” the sort of chain typically seen on bikes. My thinking behind the name is that these chains aren’t usually the source of motion on a bicycle, but as a mere connector it enables the motion to happen, which is very much how I feel about the role of artists in society.

RP: Can you describe the first time you produced graffiti? 

G: The very first time was in 2008. I knew nothing about making street art; I was not very much a hands on person. I was sketching a lot, but a lot of the work I was doing also involved using the computer a lot as opposed to using paint and spray-paint, and like messy tools. You know? Some friends of mine in Alexandria, much younger than myself — Aya Tarek, Wensh, and Nabil — they had already been doing street art for a while in Alexandria, and they were telling me that I should come up to Alexandria, which is a few hours away from Cairo by train. We scouted some walls, each one of us came up with an idea, and we helped each other. Without their knowledge, I wouldn’t have been able to make my first piece. 

It was three monkeys, but instead of the hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil, it was reversed. So there was a monkey looking — seeing through binoculars — another monkey who was speaking through a mega phone, and another monkey who was listening through this listening device. I sketched it out first on a piece of paper, and then had it scanned and fixed it up digitally. We printed the image on transparent sheets, and cut through them to make a stencil. Then you staple them to the wall you’re doing.

That piece lasted only about a week before it was censored, covered in black paint. But my friends had been doing street art for two years, and none of their pieces were ever censored. 

RP: When you were making art during the Egyptian revolution, were you aware of how it was influencing the protests? 

G: Everyone cheered for my slogan “Down with Mubarak and his Family;” it was meaningful to a lot of people to see it in public space. Imagine you and everyone you know knows something, which is spoken at little cafes and on the street. And one day that thing is finally chanted out loud in big numbers; and not only that, but that thing is written in public space; this thing that everyone knows but no one’s allowed to talk about in public. It’s kinda like that, but this thing has kinda been weighing on people’s chests for so long, just being spoken, and being written in public space was so massive and so important. 

Sarah Carr cc via Flickr

Of course, the more its written, though, the more it exists in public space, the less significant it is. You need to up your game. For example, if you spray the same slogan the people cheer the first time they see it, and maybe the fiftieth or the hundredth it just becomes so normal and so whatever in public space. But maybe there are still things that need to be pushed, and there are still nerves that need to be pressed, right? There will always be an elephant in the room. 

You realize that you always have to up your game, whether that means saying the same thing differently, or saying something different. So, maybe just a shitty little slogan sprayed quickly is not impactful anymore, and you need to do a nice designed stencil and that grabs people’s attention. And when you have more of those, you take it bigger to a mural size. Also, maybe the message itself must be changed. So when Mubarak was out of the picture, “Down with Mubarak” is out, and now we have to move on to “okay, actually the military that everyone is cheering is actually the problem.” 

Everyone was ready for “Down with Mubarak” — it had been thirty years, everyone was sore. But with the military, everyone was like “What do you mean, they were with us?” And maybe they’re not so ready about it. That’s when things become a little tricky, a little more difficult, when you start tackling things people are maybe no so willing to accept so easily. You have to become more subversive, less direct. 

So, with the Tank vs bicycle piece, the subversiveness is in the process of making it, where the tank takes the most time to make. When people pass, especially military police, they think you’re making a pro-military piece; they only see you drawing a really big tank. But once you’re done with the tank and you put in the bicycle, the message becomes complete, which alters the entire message of the piece. So the aspect that gives it bite should take the least amount of time so you can do it quickly and get away.

Courtesy of Ganzeer

Courtesy of Ganzeer

Courtesy of Ganzeer

RP: Who censors Egyptian political graffiti? 

G: When it’s officially a government decision, the military would cover the murals and graffiti with paint — this really horrible color on most walls in Cairo, this beige, off-white “blah” color. It’s kind of the official government supply of paint they use to cover all the walls in Cairo anyway. But for the most part, acts of censorship have been done by citizens, more so than the government.

Courtesy of Ganzeer

RP: What is the greatest source of inspiration for the content of your art?

G: It’s there in the public discourse. It’s what people are taking about; it’s an important issue. We’re all aware of it, it’s there. Other pieces require actual research for concrete information. But in general, it would be based on some kind of idea. 

One of the pieces I am working on right now, has to do with a cop who was charged with the murder of a suspect [Eric Garner]. Everyone knows about it, and it was in the news for a while, and now its just gone. 

RP: Do you perceive injustice in the United States? 

G: Police brutality, which in probably endemic everywhere in the world. The United States, and New York City in particular, is not exempt from that problem. The last incident is the guy who was choked to death for no reason whatsoever. He did not have any weapons on him, and all the eyewitnesses even claimed that he was breaking up a fight. The police arrested him for selling cigarettes illegally — which were not in his possession — and in the process of arresting him, choked him to death. The NYPD does not show shame for these acts. 

Police brutality definitely exists in Egypt and Bahrain. I think it exists in most places. Maybe we must reexamine the very concept of a police force in general, because there was a time when police forces did not exist. 

“Be Brutal” (2014) courtesy of Ganzeer

RP: Do you perceive economic injustice in the world today?

G: The global economic system, as a whole, which is heralded by the United States in particular, is to a large extent to blame for injustice throughout the world. There is already a lot of evidence pointing to the United States and the IMF leading to a lot of huge economic gaps in a lot of places in the world, and the United States itself is not exempt from that issue. There are places like Switzerland or Sweden, which have a more mixed economic system where the government is involved in providing public services; but in the United States you find that almost everything is done by a private company, and private companies only seek profit. So that is the problem. Then there is the problem of exporting that mentality throughout the world. 

Courtesy of Ganzeer

Courtesy of Ganzeer

Courtesy of Ganzeer

I think the United States has done a pretty good job at propagating the notion that a dictatorship  is somehow linked to communism and socialism, because a lot of America’s enemies in the past have been countries like Russia or Cuba. Now, to a large extent, it has a touchy relationship with China. And it’s not like China is communist anyway, for that matter. But where I come from, the notions of dictatorship, fascism, and authoritarianism can very much be linked to capitalism, because we in Egypt have been suffering from a capitalist dictatorship for a very long time, supported by the United States — it is a capitalist dictatorship. Somehow in the vocabulary of Americans, capitalism does not go hand-in-hand. Where I come from, it is exactly the same thing, because that is what we had for a very long time; we have never experienced capitalism and democracy, it’s only been capitalism and dictatorship combined. Having capitalism obviously doesn’t mean that you’re living in a free world. Finally enough, dictatorships can also relish in capitalism — having power consolidated between yourself and a handful of businessmen, that’s pretty much the idea. 

RP: Do you have any advice for artists who want to use graffiti as a political force today?

G: Street artists are going to go out there and do something risky and dangerous, but they are going to put their ideas in public space. My only advice is make it worth while, whatever it is — worth the risk, and danger of putting it out there.

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Ryan D. Purcell (@RyanDPurcell) holds an MA in American History from Rutgers University where he explored the intersection between hip hop graffiti writers and art collectives on the Lower East Side. His research is based on experience working with the Newark Public Arts Project and from tagging independently throughout New Jersey and New York.

Featured image courtesy of [Wolfgang Sterneck via Flickr]

Ryan Purcell

Ryan D. Purcell holds an MA in American History from Rutgers University where he explored the intersection between hip hop graffiti writers and art collectives on the Lower East Side. His research is based on experience working with the Newark Public Arts Project and from tagging independently throughout New Jersey and New York. Contact Ryan at staff@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post Egyptian Political Artist Ganzeer on Street Art and Political Protest appeared first on Law Street.

On Friday, August 1, Moody’s Investor Service upgraded Greece’s government bond rating, indicating subtle economic growth for a country hit hard by the 2008 economic crisis. Plagued by structural weakness, along with a decade of mounting financial deficits, the Greek economy floundered from the outset of the 2008 recession, afflicting the Eurozone system until it was saved from the brink of bankruptcy in 2010. Eurozone countries and the International Monetary Fund have pumped 240 billion euros ($308 billion) in the Greek economy, floating the feeble country on the promise of exacting austerity measures including drastic cuts to public spending that have triggered unprecedented levels of poverty, decimating incomes and pushing the unemployment rate to 27 percent.

Moody’s recent vote of confidence in the Greek economy may however mark at turning point for the credit-strapped country, since the Moody’s upgrade is corroborated by other reputable credit agencies. On May 23, 2014 Standard & Poor and Fitch raised their ratings of Greece from B- to B, while Moody’s predicted a gradual decline of its massive national debt. While this credit rating remains at “junk” status, or below investment grade, Greece’s economy is projected to grow by 1.2 percent, the first significant uptick in seven years signaling that the country is near the end of its dismal recession.

If graffiti in Athens can tell us anything about this recent optimism, it is that Greece’s impending resuscitation has not come without its social costs. Moreover, the capitalist “invisible hand” is not the only hand of consequence. In July, preceding Moody’s report of Greece’s economic health, iNO, a Greek graffiti muralist, unveiled his latest piece. The mural, called “Wake UP,” portrays one hand saving another that lets go of a coin. “While the economic situation in Greece remains unsettled [ne s’arrange pas],” explained the French graffiti blog ALLCITY, “iNO made a blind wall in Athens with the theme of resurrection, the hand of God bringing to life a man fascinated by money.” The black and white mural cast against dense cream concrete buildings, prescribes a redemption that necessitates letting go of money, perhaps suggesting a return to more humanitarian, social, and fiscal policies in Greece. Since the outset of the 2008 economic crisis, iNO has been at the forefront of Greek political graffiti; his murals have illuminated the social consciousness of the recession. 

“People in Greece are under pressure,” iNO told The New York Times in April. “They feel the need to act, resist and express themselves… If you want to learn about a city, look at its walls. Take a walk in the center of Athens, and you will get it.” Nearly all of iNO’s murals contain a social message, whether implicitly or explicitly expressed. “No Future,” for example, depicts two faces of a baby: one searching the sky desperately, the other stares blankly at the viewer, or at the absence of future and economic promise in Athens. “System of Fraud,” shows the heads of two hellenistic statues, the bottom melting away, perhaps critiquing Athens tourism industry, or the mismanagement of its revenue. “Wake Up” in contrast, is a hopeful message, but also an admonishment against the abuses of capital.

Political graffiti has been a mainstay of dissent in Greece since the outset of the 2008 economic crisis. Activists against the government have plastered Athens’ city walls, banks, kiosks, trains, and cars with political messages like  “Their Wealth is Our Blood;” commenting on international bailouts to save Greece, “Wake Up! Fight Now!;” and even sardonic graphics advertising democracy, “Super Democracy (as seen on TV)” with a figure giving a middle finger.

Graffiti has functioned as “counter-propoganda” for the Greek people who have been devastated by austerity measures and no longer trust the government. Going forward, however, graffiti will mean more than a statement of protest; as a voice of the people, political graffiti will play a role in discussions about the restoration of the Greek economy and society. The upgrade of Greece’s credit rating marks a turning point for the Greek economy. Will Greece resume the self-destructive path of government corruption and financial mismanagement, or will the country espouse more humanitarian policies, shifting emphasis from boosting private investors to a more robust welfare for its people? If anything is clear, it is that Graffiti will remain part of the equation.

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Ryan D. Purcell (@RyanDPurcell) holds an MA in American History from Rutgers University where he explored the intersection between hip hop graffiti writers and art collectives on the Lower East Side. His research is based on experience working with the Newark Public Arts Project and from tagging independently throughout New Jersey and New York.

Featured image courtesy of [aesthetics of crisis via Flickr]

Ryan Purcell

Ryan D. Purcell holds an MA in American History from Rutgers University where he explored the intersection between hip hop graffiti writers and art collectives on the Lower East Side. His research is based on experience working with the Newark Public Arts Project and from tagging independently throughout New Jersey and New York. Contact Ryan at staff@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post Graffiti Marks Turning Point in Greek Economy appeared first on Law Street.

“It’s in the nature of graffiti that it can’t be contained by any established institution, commercial or educational. As a site-specific art form, it dies when separated from the where and when of its creation. Also, its energy comes from the artist’s self-identification as an aesthetic and social outlaw.“

-Ken Johnson, New York Times

Martin Wong came to New York City in 1978 as an openly gay painter and sculptor from San Francisco. He settled in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, Loisadia, full of home artist communities like the Nuyorican Poets Café. Along with the South Bronx this was an epicenter street graffiti in New York during the late 1970s and 1980s. As an outsider from the West Coast, Wong was immediately spellbound by the radiant graffiti around him, passionately seeking out graffiti writers and their art around the city. In 1982, Wong began working at Pearl Paint, an art supply store on Canal Street, and would trade art supplies with graffiti writers in return for graffiti sketchbooks, drawings, and paintings. Through the 1980s, Wong amassed a colossal collection of graffiti art of 300 objects — including 50 sketchbooks, more than 100 canvases, and more than 150 works on paper. Artists range from the well-known art stars such as Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring to graffiti writers such as Christopher “DAZE” Ellis, FUTURA 2000, LAII, LADY PINK, and Lee Quiñones.

In all, Wong’s collection of graffiti art is, perhaps, the largest of its kind. Wong “wanted to become the Albert Barnes of graffiti,” recalled Ellis, referring to the famous collection of Post-Impressionist and early Modern works amassed by the chemist. He was “interested in far more than collecting the artists’ works, since he became a mentor to several of them,” Sean Corcoran, the curator of prints and photographs at the Museum of the City of New York, told Art in America. “He often traded with them, sometimes selling one of his own paintings and turning around and spending all the money buying work from graffiti artists.” For a short time, Wong even operated a museum of graffiti art in a row house on Bond Street until rising real estate values forced the venue to close. When Wong was diagnosed with AIDS in 1994, he donated his entire collection to the Museum of the City of New York before he died on October 12, 1999 at the age of 53. “He could have sold off the collection piecemeal, and there were interested European buyers,” said Corcoran. “[B]ut he felt strongly that the collection should remain in New York, and he donated it wholesale to the Museum.”

Curated by Cocoran, “City as Canvas” at the Museum of the City of New York is the first exhibition of Martin Wong’s graffiti art. “The collection was never able to be seen,” said Charlie Ahearn, an early graffiti aficionado and director of the movie Wild Style. Viewers can see a wide array of artifacts from sketchbooks to graffiti painted on canvas, as well as photographs that documented the New York graffiti movement during the ’70s and ’80s. Yet underneath this vast presentation — and the pieces, especially the photographs, are stunning — lurks an unsettling suspicion. Does graffiti belong on a canvas, or in a museum?

Wild Style flyer, Courtesy of Delete via Flickr

“Graffiti is really defined as some one who writes their name in an illegal fashion on public property,” Ahearn mused before “City as Canvas” opened. During the ’70s and ’80s graffiti was a “direct response to the crumbling city,” according to urban historian L.E. Neal. For graffiti writers, tagging was political; it was an “act of defiance.” Graffiti was an act of appropriation, making the city one’s own by claiming the space, says RxArt. Amid the destruction of communities, and the failure of the government to protect working-class communities in urban crisis, the graffiti movement was a “fight for space.” Removed from the street, the graffiti aesthetic on canvas is devoid of political meaning, it is an inauthentic representation of street politics, though it might present sentimental value to viewers who can remember New York City during that time.

One canvas graffiti piece illustrates this point for the entire collection. Lee Quiñones’ “Howard the Duck” (1988) is an oil on canvas reproduction of a street mural, originally produced in the early 1980s. It depicts a cartoon duck, in suit and tie, shielding himself with a garbage lid from Lee’s tag emblazoned on a brick wall. Above the scene a message reads in graffiti script: “Graffiti is art and if art is a crime, let go forgive all.” While the colors are vivid, and the message provoking, the piece would have been more poignant, and interesting if it was presented as graffiti mural on the street, as originally intended. On canvas, however, the piece is unengaging. “[T]oday that work doesn’t interest me aesthetically in the same way it might have interested writers or just art fans back in the early 1980s” said R.J. Rushmore, a young contemporary graffiti artist, and editor-in-chief of Vandalog. Initially, Ahearn considered it a mistake for Wong to bequeath his collection to any institution, but now values the exhibition at MCNY because “it places the emphasis on the historical picture of [graffiti], rather than the art world context.”

Photography is, perhaps, an appropriate method of presenting graffiti because it captures its urban context. The New York graffiti subculture was an insular world during the 1970s; the writers depended on their anonymity to continue their work while police crackdowns intensified. As a result, the graffiti writers let few outsiders into their lives, among those were photographers Henry Chalfant, Martha Cooper, Jon Naar, and Ahearn, a cinematographer. “City as Canvas” presents a section of their photographs that candidly capture the graffiti subculture with raw passion. One photo, taken by Naar, depicts a gang of writers in a graffiti-festooned subway entrance, proudly holding papers marked with their respective tags. An iconic Cooper photograph dramatically portrays a graffiti writer at work straddling the gap between two subway trains, one foot on either train. These photos, along with the sketchbooks, in my mind, are the real gems in “City as Canvas.”

“I think we’re in the right window to look at what these kids were doing and [the] effects on culture,” said Corcoran. “For us, this show is partly about how graffiti originated in New York and became a global phenomenon…Thanks to photographers like Martha Cooper and filmmakers like Charlie Ahearn, it was disseminated worldwide. The materials in the show say a lot about what New York looked like in the 1970s and 80s.”

“It’s all over the world,” Corcoran told the New York Times, ”You have kids in Europe painting trains because of what they saw in ‘Wild Style.’” Moreover, “City as Canvas” holds particular relevance today; after Banksy’s month-long “residency,” the destruction of 5 Pointz and the subsequent surge in illicit graffiti over the course of the last six months, graffiti is once again a poignant and divisive issue in New York.

“City as Canvas: Graffiti Art from the Martin Wong Collection” is on view through September 1, 2014 at the Museum of the City of New York, 1220 Fifth Avenue New York, NY, 10029.

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Ryan D. Purcell (@RyanDPurcell) holds an MA in American History from Rutgers University where he explored the intersection between hip hop graffiti writers and art collectives on the Lower East Side. His research is based on experience working with the Newark Public Arts Project and from tagging independently throughout New Jersey and New York.

Feature image courtesy of [Igal Malis via Flickr]

Ryan Purcell

Ryan D. Purcell holds an MA in American History from Rutgers University where he explored the intersection between hip hop graffiti writers and art collectives on the Lower East Side. His research is based on experience working with the Newark Public Arts Project and from tagging independently throughout New Jersey and New York. Contact Ryan at staff@LawStreetMedia.com.

The post ‘City as Art’ Exhibition Brings Massive Graffiti Collection to the Public for First Time appeared first on Law Street.