Be Free in Canberra

I spotted this piece by the Melbourne based street artist in Tocumwal Lane, Canberra.

Art in Surprising Places

I heard a rumour that there was going to be a Shake Your Tail Feather flash mob at Southbank so I headed down there with my friend, Lucy, to check it out. (Youtube video by Miff D)

Afterwards we walked through Southgate Shopping Complex and came across artworks by Be Free. It was one of her colourful little-girl-with-bucket-of-paint paste ups in Degraves Street that started me off photographing street art just over a year ago.

The first piece of Be Free street art I spotted in Melbourne. This can still be seen in Degraves Street but isn’t in such good condition any more.

Finally, Lucy and I went for a coffee in Manchester Press. Unfortunately, the amazing coffee foam art I’d been going on and on about was not evident in Lucy’s hot chocolate.

The picture in the milk foam of my coffee.

Lucy’s hot chocolate looks dull by comparison

Some Christmas Street Art

Christmas themed yarn bombed bike racks and railings outside Fitzroy Swimming Pool, another Yarn Corner / City of Yarra installation:

 

The Melbourne Town Hall Christmas Projection:

 

This was even more spectacular than the projection I saw in Brussels a few years ago. My favourite part was when the clock tower turned into an owl, and the clock faces were its eyes:

More Prahran Street Art

Another snap of street art in Prahran, but this one is incredibly offensive, I think. I nearly didn’t post it because I didn’t want to give it a platform.

I saw it on the way to my trapeze lesson. When I got to NICA, one of the girls in my class asked if I’d come from the station. “Oh my God, did you see that piece of graffiti?”

I realised I wasn’t the only person the piece had made an impact on, so maybe it is worth posting for discussion.

Obviously the implication that single mothers are pole dancers is in itself repugnant, but I  also think it is offensive to suggest that going to pole dancing clubs supports women. People come up with all sorts of excuses to justify it – by talking about emancipation of women and freedom to do what you want with your body – but the fact is that stripping and dancing for money only perpetuates the idea that a woman’s value is in appearing sexually attractive to men.

Oh yeah, and there’s an APOSTROPHE CATASTROPHE!!!

A Little Head Never Hurt Anybody

I’m guessing this is the work of the same person.

I saw two of these in Prahran the other day:

They made me smile.

Your Someone’s Reason to Masturbate

I saw this near Prahran Station the other day. I liked it. I was flattered. But then only a fraction of a second later I spotted the “your” blunder and was instantly deflated. If only I wasn’t such a colossal wanker myself I could have basked in the compliment for a little longer.

Art or Trash?

If someone were to jam an empty drink container, let’s say for the sake of argument an empty Red Bull can, into a gap in a wire mesh fence, that would be littering right? We might walk past and tut and think, what dick did that instead of throwing their rubbish in the bin?

And we would have the same reaction towards a polystyrene cup jammed in a gap in a wire mesh fence, wouldn’t we?

Unless there were lots of them and they were arranged in an undulating wave pattern and perhaps, whimsically, some of them had rolled up maps protruding from them. Because this looks kind of like it’s meant to be something, doesn’t it? Like it might be art:

Oh yes, look: It’s definitely art because there’s a plaque beside it explaining what it’s all about:

The information accompanying the artwork, a section of which reads: “The artist creates a dystopic cartography that invites sombre reflection about the creek systems of the Moreland area which once flowed with fresh drinking water and teemed with aquatic life. Storm water now surges through gutters and main drains, then back to the creeks with sludge and rubbish caught in its wake.”

I saw this being “installed” on the fence near Moreland Station last week. Today I walked past and noticed that it’s been embellished:

Is the person who contributed the empty Red Bull can an artist too? Or a litter bug?

Yarn Bomb Alterations

A couple of weeks ago I spotted this new yarn bomb on Rathdowne St. At least I think it’s a yarn bomb. Certainly there is yarn involved.

I was tickled. I wondered who had put it there. Maybe a feminist pom-pom making collective?

A few days later I was walking along the same street and noticed that the yarn bomb had been altered to appeal to a wider audience.

Who’s responsible for this? A retaliating group of equal rights activists that just wants everyone to get along? An indignant member of the public that likes street art but wants it to be suitable for audiences of all ages?

This is one of the great pleasures of street art, watching a piece evolve from one thing into something else. I’m glad I took photos to capture the process.

An Artsy Weekend in Melbourne

It’s official: Melbourne is awesome. On Saturday I wandered through the Love, Evelyn Markets and the Rose Street Artist Market, picking out stuff I want to buy once I get paid. Until then, I can only justify spending money if it is something I would die without. (That list includes coffee, but not funky jewellery unfortunately, although I really tried to think around that one.)

In the evening I went to check out the Gertrude Street Projection Festival with some friends.  It’s on for another week so if you’re in Melbourne try to stop by. There are lots of fun animations, films and light displays projected on buildings all along the street. Light Lovers is fantastic, just try not to get run over by a tram while watching it.

Today I went along to a meeting of the Yarn Corner crew. They were yarnbombing the B.East burger bar in Brunswick East. It looked amazing, and I helped out a little by stitching together some of the granny squares on member Casey’s seat cover.

Shoefiti

We saw the first one in Brunswick while we were on our yarn bomb trail. Grace thought that the shoes tied together by their laces and tossed over the power cable meant that there was a tinnie house nearby. I thought it was something to do with gangs marking their territory. Or maybe a group of bullies had ambushed an unfortunate kid after school and thrown his shoes up there? This seemed the least likely explanation since a few days later we saw another pair of shoes dangling above a street in Fitzroy. Unless that group of bullies really got around.

Last week on my way to the train station I snapped a pair in Thornbury. I looked around furtively before taking the photo, worried that if the criminal gang responsible saw me, they would come after me with a gun, or possibly with a length of shoelace to garrotte me.

It was early in the morning and the street was quiet so I took my photo quickly, tucked my camera back in my bag and went on my way. I probably would have forgotten all about it if I hadn’t received the e-mail from Anna, who has now left Melbourne to continue her round the world adventure.

Anna had been doing some internet research and discovered that the shoes are a form of street art. Shoefiti, if you will. I don’t know why we didn’t figure that out for ourselves. In a city like Melbourne, where the laneways are covered in graffiti, the bike racks wear knitted jackets and shop windows form quirky exhibition spaces, that is the most obvious explanation.

I’m not sure where I stand on shoefiti at the moment. Yarn bombing and graffiti have some obvious value: they are appealing to look at and some creativity has gone into making them. Anyone can toss a pair of shoes over a power line. (Actually, I’m not sure if I could. I might miss and concuss some innocent passerby). And sure, the sight of them did provoke the whole “what does it mean?” discussion, but only in the sense of “what are those shoes doing there?” and not in an existential “why are we here?” sense. Like the love locks, I can’t help but feel that shoefiti is wasteful.

I’m still working away at my yarn bombing experiment, knitting through my mistakes, but I’ll be damned if I’m throwing a perfectly good pair of shoes away for the sake of art.