No place like home
I live in Essex but grew up in South West London, in a part that is incredibly culturally and socially diverse. Today we visited my parents who still live there. While I try and visit as often as I can, life does, unavoidably, get in the way at times and as such it always astounds me how quickly things can and do change.
A couple of visits ago I noticed some graffiti murals that had seemingly sprung up from nowhere. At first I thought that they were just the random Banksy-esque scrawls of a delinquent (albeit a talented one), but as it turns out, the council actually commissioned the pieces.
Step back, look deeper.
Taken at face value these could just be the bold brush strokes of some nameless talent, but as you look closer, or rather step back and look deeper, you can almost hear the voice of the artist. Every time I’ve seen them since, I have noticed some detail that I missed the time before, have understood a little more about what each one is trying to tell me.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
While some people will inevitably deem them to be nothing more than garish eyesores (and honestly, I hope never to socialise with those people… sorry), I believe them to be stunning, modern pieces of art. For me, they are the embodiment of all that art should stand for and be: They dare to be different, to say exactly what the artist wants to say – irrespective of what others think, to be controversial. They evoke discussion and they call into question – really challenge the concept of – what is beautiful.
I love them and they evoke in me, as a creative type, the sudden urge to make something unexpected… What do you think?