an open letter to the producers of "The Day The Earth Stood Still.":

I want my money back.

The stars were amazing, even trapped between soft seats and stiffs. I smoked too much this weekend, and my throat is taking revenge on the rest of my body. A work party, an open bar and a city wide trek amounted in a blurred flash of events. Old friends, angry douchebags and a lot of terrible weather. From the snow and ice to the rainy thaw this is a reflection of my soul's current outpost. Graffiti, fresh on a newly installed bench and the same tags litter the neighborhood. What is new, what is new? This is all so desolate. blaaahh. work comes to early on a Monday. see you then.

graffiti on the city pt II

I found a face on the subway bench. Three sets of eyes two lips and a message: 'love is the hardest thing to give'

Tags could be subverted politically, could they? The act of tagging represents a reflection on the state of the public, exploitation of our sphere, and an attempt - if shallow - to reclaim what we can. A protest. There stands a wall between the fried chicken spot and the coin-op laundry mat. It serves as a message board for local writers. Down the street a tunnel is consumed with a one sided defaced mural, hideous, heinous and just spewing with distaste. Do these murals represent a decay any less than the tags we so loathe? (Read: royal we) if I had a can of paint large enough I'd envelop the whole city in a colourful blanket, the sameness would demand change...this is the same sameness we face now, only we ignore it - disguised indifference and as diverse as my shoes left from right.

musing, exams and wintersleep; the killer.

i believe in privacy over invasion
and reconciliation over war.


is tagging just a fetishized act of anarchy? is it a means or an end? as an end it is meaningless, but meaninglessness with the power and potential to remediate, to address and to shape new opinions translated into policy.

it is there, if we want it.

graffiti tripping part I

Took a trip down Queen with Natalie. She needed fabric and I figured since I'm way behind on my documentation it would be a good idea to tag along with my camera lens. (just the lens, no body - that's how I work now...) I had tripped along Yonge and Bay the other day. Ron wanted to find a bookstore...any store with old pages and some new ideas. The spots we're sparse. Mucho tagging, little more. I caught a few decent shots but I made the mistake of bringing my 50mm fixed lens and no alternative. The challenge of capturing street housed tags on busy streets proved to be near life threatening. No consistency. This city lacks one voice, or I the eye to notice it. May be a good thing - diversity IS the culture around here. LSD is rampant, GH tenacious and a few others are exceedingly pervasive. I definitely need to get out more than I intend to over the next unpredictably weathered months.

There is a face that is creeping its way across the city - and though sharing all the characteristics of a bombed tag it is strikingly refreshing. And if so, the sunshine wink around the Queen+Spadina area is of the same vein. I'm bored with most of the letter-based murals I see around the city, and quite personally I enjoy more of the abstract work. I can dig some of the funky lettering, but really...it's 2008...lets see some branching out. Ha. The stretch of the city I hit today, referred to as 'graffiti alley,' is a labyrinth of back alleys below Queen, above Richmond and between Spadina in the East and Bathurst in the West. The asphalt throughout is soaked in excess paint, trail off from the layers and layers of murals, tags and bugged out artwork. Signs advocate contributions with the slogan 'artists welcome.' They don't specify any restrictions, and the term is stretched by those who partake. Do they mean anyone? Do they wish 'real' art to grace their walls? Who are they anyway? The beauty is in the diversity. The lack of restrictions open these vast canvases to the public at large. A direct and tangible piece of the public sphere. Does this permission change the meaning? Is this a practice arena for 'real' pieces? What the fuck do I mean by 'real' anyway? Some areas are bombed beyond recognition - "is that a door?" - while others are combination of beautiful pieces, characters blended with new techniques and animated creatures. (not that the bombing isn't beautiful in its own right -- the release, the unbound human expression the explosion of a multitude of personalities styles and states of mind layered one after the other creating an organic surface with a hundred voices all at once.) This open concept gallery provides a stomping ground for the cities off-radar artistes. Collaborations are merged, graffiti handshakes are exchanged. props given where due. The work stands unchallenged and a community sprouts outward. If this was the only area where the art was happening that would be a travesty; but its a launching pad, a source of inspiration...nothing lasts forever, but this pseudo heritage site stands as a place it is safeguarded from the battle grounds external. No cops or commissioned whitewashers here. It is breathing room. ahh. take it in.

By no means does this stage house the city's most captivating, or the epitome of the best cultural rebel works. This is merely a yard sale, for the Macy's one has to leave the comfort of a dingy, garbage lined back alley and step in the direction of the people...the few that cruise through here after all, are residents and workers who have no choice, some lost souls, junkies and of course the artists themselves. For the graffiti artists ouvre you've got to have open eyes and just take a walk through the most public or private of areas. Graffiti is a statement? Graffiti is a conversation? Is it? Well it can only work on both of these fronts if it has someone to read, to interpret to consume the texts they colour the landscape with. Look high look low, look in places you wouldn't expect. Find a pattern. Join a conversation. Think out loud, in colour. Take a trip and look outside the expectations. Over the next couple of months I will interpret, discover and uncover. How does graffiti serve the public sphere? Colour stains and repetition don't do a damn thing without understanding. Square pusher once said in an interview that to be fresh one must "have the right references to be understood, but the right changes to be relevant" (im paraphrasing) and though he was speaking about music, the underground art scene stands on a similar plane. The tools may change, the styles may change, but you gotta keep it fresh, keep the attack alive, and never say die. Unbridled passion doesn't have a price tag. Whoever said 'never work for free' was on the level, but cash isn't the only way to get paid....



continued in part II

notes played; along the soul; fought my demons; seen it all

this is a random collection of photographs.





















blinded eyed ending;
climactic graveyard scene
filled with scrap remains




the grass between
the cloud, the ground
broken dreams
torrid milked crowds
dreams written across
the blanketed root
liberating concrete canvas
word stain on outlaw marquee



coldness only took
the tree lined
blanketed smooth
ocean drifts
the coastline
curtains shake
the storm breaks
soaked black like
sidewalks
and sharp like haggard edges
we're out
tonight
spent twice
the lion's brood
these drops
black gold
reigning from
and moving

the dark





blue striped gray sprawl
across white feathered
pink and green lined parallel
silver carrying the motive
through the iris and
halogen dreams trail your spine
while tears stream the window
from tires bleeding the city dry