trublion underground qui aigaye nos rues avec finesse

"Blood on the hands, a suitcase stuffed with money, and a message “Let Them Eat Crack”.  Banksy’s latest rat was completed this morning and the words couldn’t have been any clearer for a city that has been so concerned with ‘me’ first. Nice job Mr. Banksy." 

- The World's Best Ever

-

]]> http://infiniteexcursions.wordpress.com/?p=89 Sun, 05 Oct 2008 09:45:00 +0000 Alex http://infiniteexcursions.nl.wordpress.com/2008/10/05/flashbacks-london/ My significant other and I were both feeling that we needed a city break so we came up with the idea of going to London in August. We both felt we wanted relaxation more than anything else so instead of staying at an hostel, we booked a hotel room using Pricerunner. Noteworthy is that although we used Pricerunner, we got ourselves a room at an expensive hotel located in the financial district of London, quite close to Liverpool street, and that was the cheapest room we could get. We didn't bother complaining, of course, since we were treated well despite the suspicious looks on the staff's faces upon our arrival (just imagine it yourself, two students entering the hallway in an expensive four-star hotel in the financial district asking for their room key).

We stayed in London from Thursday to Sunday, arriving early because most of Ryanair's departures are early in the morning or late in the night, hence why they can keep their prices down. Basically, you're just paying for the flight seat and there's really not any in-flight service worth discussing. At any rate, we got our tickets cheap and landed at Stansted airport around 8 am. After having checked in at the Gracechurch hotel, we took the tube to Trafalgar Square to see if there was any action there. We had read in the flight magazine that the Trafalgar Square Festival was taking place during the days we were in town. Upon arriving, we realised that there wasn't much of a festival, really, but just a large group of people watching an Olympic Games coverage on a large screen. Some ten gymnasts performed for the crowd, but it wasn't much of a show. We decided to skip the so-called festivities and instead entered the National Gallery. I wish we had more time to walk about in the gallery, but it was quite crowded and we didn't much feel like being around stressed out people at that time. However, it was nice to see a few legendary paintings by artists such as Raphael, Picasso and Da Vinci. Furthermore, Yoko Ono was making an art installation on the theme of love at the gallery and visitors were invited to take part in it and so we did! I guess that we're officially famous now... ehm. We had been lucky enough to be enjoying nice weather, contrary to the general depiction of London having nothing but rain, but upon exiting the National Gallery we got the pleasure to enjoy some authentic English weather. Despite the poor weather, we walked about and went to see the Parliament building and the Big Ben, Whitechapel, Buckingham Palace and some other places. When we got back to the hotel, we were both exhausted and we slept well that night.

Friday had some fun in stock for us. Early in the morning, we went to the West End and Leicester Square where we bought tickets to Monty Python's Spamalot. If you go to Leicester Square in the morning, you can make some real bargains on tickets to various musicals and theatres. I think we paid some 20 pounds each whereas the usual price was around 40 pounds. If you're going to London (or are already there) and haven't been to a musical theatre yet, you ought to try out what West End has to offer. It's really something out of this world, to say the least. Being a fan of Monty Python's work myself, I was sure I'd love the musical but even Åsa loved the show and she's not very keen on that kind of comedy. I think that Spamalot is running till January so my advice is take the chance while you still can. Besides hanging out in the West End, we took the tube east and paid a visit to the Tower of London, which turned out to be a huge mistake. I thought I'd better show Åsa some of the classic tourist spots of London, at least a few of them just so you've been there, but I learnt my lesson well. The place was overcrowded and we were basically stuck inside the palace for an hour, having to queue for all there was to see. I'm under the assumption that one should always make one's own experience, not dwelling on reading tourist guidebooks too much. However, on that particular day I felt that we should see some of the classic spots, but I quickly learnt that that's a foolish idea if it's tourist season. Learning by burning, indeed. We had loads of fun that Friday anyway, keeping Spamalot in mind, and it was a good learning experience, which we benefited from the day after when we went to Madame Tussauds. The queue was huge, even though we showed up in the morning, and a staff member told us he thought we'd be inside within two hours. Wasting two hours in queue just to be shoveled around inside Madame Tussauds was simply out of the question, so we took the tube to Camden instead. The market vendors didn't have much interesting stuff to offer, but we didn't mind because upon trying to escape the stress and get some coffee, we stumbled upon some original Banksy art!

In conclusion, I must say that we learnt a few valuable lessons and on the whole we had a great time in London. The city has a lot to offer and I'd love to go back soon because there's so much more I want to do and see such as visiting the Shakespeare museum.

Thing is, all ten of the top ten most expensive paintings were utter shit. Just horrible. I've seen grafitti that required more talent. And, its like these obscenely wealthy people who are buying this crap simply have to be fucking nuts. There was a little side story in the thing I was reading about these paintings, about this rich fuck and how he bought one of these top ten paintings for like 80 mil.-and he had this other one that was worth as much-and he was going to have them cremated with him when he died. Well, besides the fact that the paintings should have been cremated years ago they were so bad, it turned out funny because this guys business went tits up and he had to sell the paintings to pay off debtors. But just the whole idea of someone paying what amounted to a 100+million for two paintings...and then torch them with you when you die...it's just a mind boggler that someone would make such a vulgar display of their wealth. I guess being digustingly rich leads to nutter-ville activities like that. Especially nowadays when the super rich class doesn't have to worry about the peasants getting pissed and guillotining them anymore.

But my whole point here was just how bizzare it is to see all these paintings I wouldn't give 5 bucks for at a yard sale fetching millions and millions of dollars. It just blows my mind. I mean, ok, I wouldn't mind putting the money out to go take a trip and see some killer graf., or like some of Banksy's pieces across the pond. And yeah, I would totally shell out a good deal of money (were it I had it to spend) on a Coop or Pushead original-but first of all, all them dudes are still alive and second, their work ranges from free to maybe a few grand in cost. I guess I just don't get it though, I'm too "lowbrow" or my tastes aren't "cultured" enough to appreciate looking at a Pollack painting, that appears to be a colorful writhing mass of spaghetti vomit, and being moved by it. Much less ever wanting to pay the gross domestic product of a small country for it.

More info and photos courtesy of Gothamist

(source)

Atractivo y subversivo. No te dejará indiferente, (y a Paris Hilton tampoco)

Banksy

If you want a Banksy these days, you have to be more creative. You need to go somewhere where Banksy isn't well known - somewhere which has got bigger problems than graffiti. Somewhere like New Orleans.

So, the plan:

• JetBlue it down to New Orleans
• Buy a clapboard house which has a Banksy on the side of it
• Remove the Banksy intact
• Ship it back to the UK
• Sell it to Jay at Whitecube

I'll let you know how I get on...

Love it! Banksy. I get to walk by this every day to work. I love NY. RYAN DYE

Every time I come to a new city I wish you had arms to hold me with, Blog. Seem to get a tad lonely in a new place traveling all by my lonesome. Jim Morrison was right about strange places. I know, we barely know each other and this has been a very one-sided relationship; will I ever find a message from you in my inbox?

Had a dream the other night. Shouldn't have been scary really, but I sat up and screamed, actually screamed (then hid under the covers, hoped the Russians in my dorm room thought it was the guy in the bunk below me). I was being chased by a pigeon who was bent on pelting me with shit. In the dream that is. Been racking my brain as to what it all meant. The only thing shit-tossing brings to mind is blogging... so here we are.

The last while has been more about visiting with friends than seeing the sights. I have some kick ass quality friends, and it's a shame that I have to cross the pond to see them. Oh, and they have arms, Blog, to hold me with.

London. The Big Ben fiasco ended well. Met up with my friend eventually. She being from Slovenia and I being from back-scratchin' Saskatchewan, we hadn't seen each other since the Garifuna days on the northern coast of Honduras, of course. And why not meet up in London? Makes perfect sense.

Spent time 'round Bricklane, Camdentown. Some funky hang out spots and a few vintage clothing stores. An entire day riding the Underground in search of a piece of Banksy's work. No luck whatsoever, but the chase led us to some areas I'd have not otherwise seen. An immigrant neighborhood with a busy marketplace. Burkas, socks and sandals, a BBC shoot, shady salesmen, buskers, cilantro, semi-legal sim cards, Indian food. It was great, but even better to catch up with Tjasa (the Slovenian Bohemian).

Thame. Left London to visit the family Mackenzie. Made me miss Ellis (the ten pound nephew). Incidentally, watching the potty-training process is quite entertaining, particularly when the little guy looks spot on like his father and speaks in a British accent. 'Daaaady, I've poop in my pants....' Other memorable smells include beer puke on the back of the bus to Oxford. Not from our troath's, mind you.

Felt like home, and it was quite nice to spend time with three generations of a family that made me feel like one of the clan. Families, I read not long ago, are like brownies. Mostly sweet with a few nuts. To the kids I must have been the nut; 'Mummy, where is the silly man?' All in all it was nice to see the parents Mackenzie who, fortunately, have not changed one jot since the messy didgeridoo-days on Waskesiu beach.

Bournemouth. Hit up the south shores of England to see an old classmate who has been living in these parts for about seven years. To be frank, I wasn't too sure as to what to expect from it all. Our days studying all things Audio/Visual were nearly ten years back, and we weren't exactly thick as thieves back then. Dear God Blog, I haven't laughed so much in ages as I did those few days in Bournemouth. It was grand, as they say, and I needn't have worried.

Went on a couple driving tours of the area. Corfe Castle, I've concluded, must have been named after the noise pneumonia makes when it's mad. Destroyed by Henry VIII after too much Jesus Juice, I'm told. Highcliff area, where we saw some surfers and the product of inbreeding (which is not in any way exclusive to Highcliff). Great conversations and tasty wine, a bit of Spinal Tap and even a two-person dance party. Eighties Brit-pop is severely underrated, really gets the illiac wings going. It was tough leaving but had I stayed I may have developed some serious smile wrinkles.

Glasgow. Back to the lonely hostel life and frown wrinkles. Glasgow is home to Saskatoon's most popular barman, Grant Martin. I have to be honest, the city didn't really do it for me. Didn't give it a real chance though, the bird dream had me dodging pidgeons the entire time. Went to King Tut's Wah Wah Hut for some live music (this is the primo joint to go to for such things I've been told.) The warmup acts were brilliant, but the headliner was about as pleasant as scab salad. Also, you should be aware that putting 400 Scots in one room smells a lot like B.O. and rank vagina. I digress. King Tut's is where Oasis first got signed to a record contract. I found this particularly humourus as I'd just read an informative article called 'How to Punch Oasis in the Face.' You've come a long way, Oasis.

So I now find myself in Edinburgh, and I like it (sorry Grant). Thank God I've finished this damn blog, Blog. I can now go out and do things without fretting over cramming it all into one letter. I've already edited out the Kazakhstanis and the gymnasts. Another time perhaps.

Keep it real, Blog,

theroyalwee

Well, they're all safe, and are going to be going on display and sale at an event as part of an exhibition sometime this month, probably towards the end of it. They're going to be sold in a silent auction, so just put in a bid and see if you get lucky if there was anything there that took your fancy. All profits go back into the Bristol Festival to make it even bigger and better next year.

At the same event, the first six months worth of boards from Weapon of Choice will be on auction that night, with the proceeds going to a charity for blind children, there's some top stuff in there so should do well.

Even more surprisingly, there's talk of some additional canvasses being up for auction that night, possibly even with a couple of Banksys in there too, which would be awesome if it comes together.

Alongside all this there's going to be cool stuff for people without the cash to splash, projections of the painting being done at the festival, the same virtual graffiti wall as was outside the festival arena, a bar, possibly with some freeness going on, big sound system and more live painting antics.

Will give you a heads up when more details have been confirmed!

Most people have probably heard of Banksy by now, and he of course has spawned many wannabes. I like Banksy's work, how you can find it unexpectedly as you turn the corner in a side street, but he's been quite well publicised by now, even if we're still not sure what he looks like. (Or are we?...)

However, graffiti made of moss is entirely new to me. Anna Garforth is the creator of these striking marks on London's wallscape, inspired both by Andy Goldsworthy (one of my favourite artists) and so called 'guerilla gardening collectives', whose aim is to beautify neglected public areas. Garforth attaches the moss to the wall using biodegradable ingredients, and she is gradually doing one sentence of a verse of a poem written by her friend, the poet Eleanor Stevens.

I just love the use of natural elements to create such a beautiful, tactile work of art. Wish I'd thought of it.

Banksy rules

“I like the political edge. All graffiti is low-level dissent, but stencils have an extra history. They’ve been used to start revolutions and to stop wars”

Banksy. The spray-can superstar. Most have heard of him, but few know his real identity. Since 2003 he’s been known for transforming industrialised spaces into al fresco art galleries, drab walls into colourful murals for robotic commuters, with his easily recognisable graffiti stencil style. He has been described as a “British provocateur” by American news channels - he addresses the elephant in the room with his art, quite literally. In 2006 he held an exhibition in Los Angeles, the main attraction being a live elephant painted head to toe in red and gold, to match the wallpaper pattern of the room it stood in. This prompted passionate controversy, and Banksy became a household name. Other contentious works have included his guerrilla-style incorporation of a bound and hooded inflatable Guantanamo prisoner into the landscape of a Disneyland ride, a portrait of the Queen as an ape, and a life-sized image of two gay policemen in a passionate embrace.

Graffiti is, by definition, a subversive and controversial activity. Traditionally rushed, dirty and secretive, it sticks two fingers up at the establishment (and one at “the man” for good measure). “Tagging” usually involves a quick scrawl of the author’s name (usually on some hard-to-reach space, thus presenting the creator as the most adventurous or daring), whereas bigger pieces may feature more than just a name. Recently however, stencil graffiti has grown in popularity, due to the fact that pieces with more accuracy and impact can be created quickly. Banksy says of his first venture into stencils: “I like the political edge – they look political just through the style”.

And Banksy has proven himself to be political. As the manifesto on his website states: “Painting a picture in a public space to make people think or smile is criminal damage. Flogging your product via TV, radio, billboards, spam email, adverts in urinals, ‘free’ gifts for kids, peer pressure et all is known as marketing; Banksy understands this”. It seems that most of his graffiti follows particular themes: 1984 paranoia; the evils of consumerism; anarchism in response to suppression; anti-capitalism; all of this presented in a humorous or colourful way. His pieces make you laugh, spitting your victory coffee out in glee, forcing you to view urban life with a different perspective.

However, Banksy’s presentation of rebellion seems a bit tame - an insurgence for the 9-5 slaves to the wage. A businessman’s chuckle suppressed behind his Starbucks paper napkin as he commutes to his desk. Is Banksy’s suggestion so amusing because we realise the revolt will never happen? This is a middle class faux-rebellion; is Banksy just painting what we want to see?

He’s clearly raising the candid mirror to society - commenting on key current issues. He rips the words from everybody’s lips, the sentences from our mouths, translates them into colour and line and stamps them all over our metropolitan capitals. And ironically, they stay there. A cover-up of authoritative whitewash occasionally conceals the crime, or a SWAT team of scrubbers remove it, but a great number of Banksy’s works remain. In fact, in the artist’s hometown of Bristol, a new shopping centre is being constructed around a Banksy mural in acknowledgement of his almost universal appeal. But wait. Surely something is wrong here? Is he really an anarchist, or an aging graffiti artist hankering for fame, getting a foot in the door of public consciousness by any which means?

His subversion seems oxymoronically legitimised, like the equivalent of a permission slip to stamp on King’s college grass or backwash while drinking from the Homerton horn. Graffiti artists hate him for being a “sell-out”. He buys antiquated oil paintings, paints helicopters and CCTV cameras over them, and then they are sold for thousands of pounds. Earlier this year, the auction of his “Space Girl and Bird” fetched £288,000 - the most expensive yet. He has also authored a successful book, “Wall and Piece”, full of photographs of his works and inspiring liberal quotations; a coffee-table hit. He is suspected to use a team of guerrilla artistes to carry out his bidding, presumably so he has more time to sit at home counting and re-counting his moolah.

Perhaps I am unduly critical. Can we reconcile this possible disparity with the fact that he might not agree with the way his art is being bought and sold, or cherished by the very authority he’s trying to rebel against? On the second day of Sotheby’s auction of his works in 2007, he updated his website with an image of people within an auction house bidding on a painting of the words “I Can’t Believe You Morons Actually Buy This Shit”. Furthermore, the main output of his artwork is illegal - whether people choose to remove it or not. And if people want to pay thousands for his work, why not let them? He has to make money somehow. He has often stated that art belongs to the people and should be free to enjoy. “Graffiti is not the lowest form of art. Despite having to creep about at night and lie to your mum it’s actually the most honest art form available. There is no elitism or hype, it exhibits on some of the best walls a town has to offer, and nobody is put off by the price of admission”. As I see it, he is not a sell-out, even though he gets paid. Whatever the truth, it cannot be denied that he kicked street art into the limelight. Whoever he is, however hypocritical he may or may not be, he inspires. He reminds monochrome, uniformed suits herded in droves under grey skies that life is best viewed in Technicolor.

© Meg Wise 2007

if you have a Louis Vuitton nearby, (which im sure you do..) you should check it out their new window display, they have changed to this surveillance cameras pointing either the bag, or the bag with models...

its very BANKSY isn't it?

Now Louis Vuitton knows the game.... hmmm..

Thanks to Arrested Motion.

Rumor has it Deitch will host a show (same place as the Swoon exhibit). What does it all mean? How do people feel about sanctioned street art? I'm kind of into it. Though I suppose dude's in another category altogether. If you haven't, definitely check out his book (and pick me up a copy, while you're at it).

This one was spotted on on old abandoned Chevron Station near Birmingham Alabama, But has since been removed.
[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Banksy in Alabama"][/caption]

And these popped up in New Orleans
[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Banksy in New Orleans"][/caption]

Sources:
The World's Best Ever

The Wooster Collective

Hype Beast

Banksy hits up Soho with a three story rat. 

Another 3 story rat went up in Soho today.

See other Banksy works I've posted HERE.

Here is a link to Bansky's website.

Banksy's thoughts on the bullshit bailout - NYC.

This one's being worked on right now - I'm not sure which guy's Banksy... 

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I meant to post Banksy's manifesto after I spotted it the other day on his site, see below. Cool story I think, except for according to Wiki he later reoffended - oops!

GRAFFITI HEROES #03

In 1974 a 33 year old man named George Davis was convicted of robbing the payroll of the London Electricity Board in Ilford. He was nailed on the evidence of cops who were outside the bank at the time of the robbery and was sent to prison for 20 years.

However, his friend Peter Chappell was convinced Davis was innocent and inspired by discrepancies in the police statements and the fact that none of the bloodstains at the scene matched with the defendant, started calling for Davis' release. Chappall enrolled some friends and embarked on one of the largest sustained grafitti campaigns Britain has ever seen. Over the following months 'G DAVIS IS INNOCENT' appeared on walls, bridges and tunnels from one side of London to the other, some of which are still visible today.

The vandalism culminated in Chappell and four others breaking into Headingley cricket ground in August 1975 the night before a test match between England and Australia. Using plastic cutlery from a service station they dug holes in the pitch, filled them with oil and painted 'Sorry it had to be done, but George Davis is innocent' in large white letters on the wall as they left. The match was postponed and Chappell got 18 months for criminal damage.

The campaign brought the case to the attention of the Home Secretary who after a police inquiry released Davis two years into his sentence using the highly exceptional and controversial Royal Prerogative of Mercy.

The fight to free George Davis was one of the most spetacular campaigns ever fought against injustice, an achievement only slightly marred when a year after his release Davis was found guilty of robbing the Bank of Cyprus for which he served six years, and three years after which he was caught red-handed robbing a mail train.

George Davis is now a free man and happily married to the daughter of a North London Chief Inspector of Police.