I am writing in response to response
to the article “Protecting our public spaces” in issue 14, published this
spring in it, the author claims that “all graffiti is public spaces.” I would
like to point out that many people believe that graffiti is an art from that
can benefit our public spaces just as much as sculpture, fountains, or other,
more accepted art forms.
People who object to graffiti
usually do so more because of where it is, not what it is. They argue, as your
author does, that posting graffiti in public places constitutes an illegal act
of property damage. But the location of such graffiti should not prevent the
images themselves from being considered genuine art.
I would argue that graffiti is the
ultimate public art form. Spray paint is a medium unlike any other. Though
graffiti, the entire world has become a canvas. No one has to pay admission or
travel to a museum to see this kind of art. The artists usually do not receive
payment for their efforts. These works of art dotting the urban landscape are
available, free of charge, to everyone who passes by.
To be clear, I do not consider
random words or names sprayed on stop signs to be art. Plenty of graffiti is
just vandalism, pure and simple. However, there is also graffiti that is
breathtaking in its intricate detail, its realism, or its creativity. It takes
great talent to create such involved designs with spray paint.
Are these creators not artists
just because they use a can of spray paint instead of a paintbrush, or because they
cover the side of a building rather than a canvas?
To declare that all graffiti is
vandalism, and nothing more, is an overly simplistic statement that I find out
of place in such a thoughtful publication as your magazine. Furthermore,
graffiti is not going anywhere, so might as well find a way to live with it and
enjoy its benefits. One option could be to make a percentage of public space,
such as walls or benches in parks, open to graffiti artists. By doing this, the
public might feel like part owners of these works of art, rather than just the
victims of a crime.
According to the writer, random
words sprayed on stop sings are not
The history of the modern world is a
record of highly varied activity, of incessant change, and of astonishing
achievement. The lives of men have, during the last few centuries, increasingly
diversified, their powers have greatly multiplied, their powers have greatly
multiplied, their horizon been enormously enlarged. New interests have arisen
in rich profusion to absorb attention and to provoke exertion. New aspirations
and new emotions have come to move the soul of men. Amid all the bewildering phenomena,
interest, in particular, has stood out in clear and growing pre-eminence, has expressed
itself in a multitude of ways and with an emphasis more and more pronounced,
namely, the determination of the race to gain a larger measure of freedom than
it has ever known before, freedom in the life of the intellect and spirit,
freedom in the realm of government and law, freedom in the sphere of economic
and social relationship. A passion that has prevailed so widely, that has transformed
the world so greatly, and is still transforming it, is one that surely merits
study and abundantly rewards it, its operations constitute the very pith and
marrow of modem history.
Not that this passion was unknown to
the long ages that proceeded the modern periods. The ancient Hebrews, the
ancient Greeks and Roman blazed the was leaving behind them a precious heritage
of accomplishments and suggestions and the men who were responsible for the
Renaissance of the fifteenth century and the Reformation of the sixteen century
contributed their imperishable part to this slow and difficult emancipation of
the human race. But it is in modern times the pace and vigour, the scope and
sweep of this liberal movement have so increased unquestionably as to dominate
the age, particularly the last three centuries that have registered great
triumphs of spirit.
What kinds of freedom have been
mentioned in the passage?
The Baxter house is located at the
end of the street. This house sits farther back from the curb than the other
houses. It is almost difficult to see from the road without peering behind the
deformed oak tree that has obscured it for years. Even so, the Baxter house
stands out from the other houses on the street. It is tall and white. However,
this white is no longer pristinely white, but a dingy grayish cram color. Long
vines hang from the tattered roof. The Baxter house is two stories tall and has
a large yard in the back that has never been mowed. The other houses on the
street are a mere one story and have been painted a variety of colors. The
newer, single story properties all appear to have been built around the same time;
the yards mostly being of the same size, and the houses appearing to be clones
of one another. Aside from the Baxter house at the end, this street is a
perfect slice of middle America. The inhabitants of the other houses wonder who
lives in the ancient, dilapidated house at the end of the street.
This passage is best described as
