Green Eyes…..

in a burned warehouse

green eyes glare back suggesting

alien life force

Love Shit…

Apparently so…appears battleship grey momentarily conquered love shit. It’s a shame because we definitely need more of that love shit in our lives to thwart the dark side of human nature.

Some Make It, Some Not So Much…

“Graffiti is one of the few tools you have if you have almost nothing. And even if you don’t come up with a picture to cure world poverty you can make someone smile while they’re having a piss.”  Banksy, Banging Your Head Against a Brick Wall

I worked my way into a no go zone of sorts. A burned out business that has had a checkered past since the fire. Eventually it was closed off, but the signs of intrusion and recent dated ‘art’ were evident. An interesting combination (I am sure there is a more artistic/creative term) of urban decay and a canvas for many competing ‘artists’…even the failed ones.  I will share more along the way. Banksy Creations

~

Furnace Roars in Magic World…

optimism in the rubble…

Flowers vs. spray paint

Today, while searching out a tradesman in an area full of vacant buildings, I came upon the usual ‘art’..tedious expressions I tire of seeing…reflections less of rebellion or creativity than self imposed ostracism and purposeful assault. But, that is another story.

No, I was at a dead end, surrounded by vacant buildings, abandoned and tired looking. There in a plot of dry, overgrown dirt nudged up against an old telephone pole was an effort by another type of artists, whose hands I doubt had touched a spray can of late. Flowers blooming, unattended, surviving with vivid contrast to asphalt, concrete, weeds and broken windows. Beauty surviving amidst the negative vibes. Nice

 

Monuments to What?

Usually the first thing to catches the eye is the graffiti, the lighting, the angles and lastly the canvas. The mind might think of what type of person sprayed the ‘art’ or markings on the building? When did they do it? What does it mean? Any more, given the amount of such markings about town, I could care less.

These days, my eyes are drawn to the row upon row of exquisitely placed brick and mortar. The door way with the diagonal inserts, the tradesmen that created a structure so others might fulfill their enterprising dream and others might provide support for themselves and families. 

The monument of a craftsman trumps the spray can. Odds are the hands holding the spray can will never hold a brick trowel. Rationalize it how you will; I refuse to anymore.