A battered face of the street. Generally the same idea as employed by JR, C215 and others, directing attention to the people of the streets, the ones always there but whom no one sees, the muted ones.
Painting at the streets has made me more conscious of the oddballs leading a nonconformist life on the streets – the beggar, freegan, bottle-collector, alcoholic, drug addict, homeless, and all the rest – people who make up the background fabric of city life. They are avoided like pariahs, matter out of place – flies in the soup of our ordered and polished late capitalist society. When doing street art I somehow feel part of that group – a temporarily sense of belonging. It’s kind of an existential experience.
We switch in and out of different social statuses every day, – from co-worker, to girlfriend, to student, to customer, to taxpayer, to instructor, to… Yet, sometimes these switches are incommensurable. You are stepping over a threshold where the sum of statuses do not ad up to a likely or coherent social self. That’s when one starts to feel as if leading a double-life. Like superman, or maybe rather the antagonist – as legality is always defined by power.