I heart street art

When I moved into my flat in Melville a few months ago, the wall of the school situated across the road was a depressing, sludgy grey expanse of concrete with a fence on top of it, punctuated by the occasional messy tag of some egotistical scribbler. Seeing it first thing in the morning was an uninspiring way to start my day, and it was hardly a welcoming sight when I got home.

I went away over the holidays, and when I got back, the wall had been transformed. This is some of what greeted me.

The work wasn’t complete, but I was very excited about what I could see.

A few days later I saw someone working on one of the pictures, and I went over and chatted to him. He said that he and his crew had been given permission to paint the wall by the school, that they had been asked to cover up some the ugly, occasionally offensive graffiti that had been on the wall before, and that they would be checking up on the wall once it was complete, touching up where necessary or putting up new work.

I was thrilled that these guys had been given the opportunity to bring some colour and interest to such a dull, lifeless space, that the school had given them the freedom to paint what they wanted (within limits, of course), and that I would get to see this work every time I reversed out of my garage.

I realise that not everyone shares my views. I am the sort of person who really likes graffiti, when it is done well. I realise that one man’s scribble can be another man’s masterpiece, but I don’t put the pointless tags one sees on walls and streetlights in the same category as murals such as the ones opposite my house, or the impressive urban art that can be seen all over European cities. I like the style and I like the idea of accepting the urban environment for what it is and embracing an art form that emerges from it. In cities such as Barcelona and Berlin, graffiti is an integral, ever-changing part of the environment, reminding us that living in the stark concrete landscape are people with a need and desire for self-expression.

And graffiti can make people think, for that reason. The best street art is that which expresses something that speaks to the people who live in that environment, putting into words and pictures what often cannot be said, or challenging the people in that space to confront things in a way that cannot be ignored. One of the reasons British street artist Banksy has gained such international acclaim and popularity is that his work often displays enormous sensitivity, something not usually expected from a guy who, to some, is yet another nasty yob scribbling on walls. And he has a sense of humour. My favourite Banksy “piece” involved him stencilling “WE’RE BORED OF FISH” on the walls of the penguin enclosure of London Zoo.

But yes, it is illegal and, at the moment, debate is raging in the UK over whether Banksy’s work should be protected as art or painted over. But what happens when it is legal, when permission is given? Surely, then, it is just a matter of taste? I was horrified to learn that some of the artists who painted the wall in Melville had been hauled off to a police station and, even after they were bailed out by teachers from the school who confirmed that they had been given permission, were told they were not allowed to continue their work (which is why the wall is still not finished).

From what I can glean from articles and forums, the allegation was that residents complained about the murals. I asked a teacher at the school about it, who said that they had received no complaints, and who added that the children liked the work and that, in her opinion, pictures from European nursery rhymes (the suggested alternative) would have no relevance to a bunch of inner-city kids.

I wish I could raise a complaint (that leads to an arrest) every time someone who shares my environment does something that does not suit my own personal tastes. I wish I could call the authorities every time someone erects palisade fencing around their property, or commissions a “Tuscan”-style monstrosity (the poor, poor architects). I wish I could threaten people with by-laws when they put up walls that are moulded to look like stone, or when they paint fake ivy on their houses. We all have to live with the bad taste of others who share our environment, and they have to live with ours.

I realise that I might be in the minority, that others might come up with reasons that the murals should not be there. But until they do, until they paint over this art with something deemed more “suitable”, I will be grateful for the fact that I have the work of some really talented artists right in my backyard.