Hunting Graffiti

The stencil graffiti that appeared in Jerusalem about twelve years ago was simple compared to the diversity of the street art in Tel Aviv today. But it had a haunting character and came out of something local, which gave it a certain intensity. That was before street art became an established art form and got exhibited at museums like Tate Modern, and before the names of street artists were internationally known. But even now, street art is more or less invisible to most people: they just walk past.

Looking around as a newcomer to Jerusalem, I soon noticed the shablonot (or stencil graffiti) and made up titles for them: Green Soldiers, Man With A Pipe, Ashkenazi Boy, Brooding Palestinian, Desert Wanderer.... Discovering these characters in the nooks and crannies of Jerusalem, and sometimes on main thoroughfares, could lighten your view of the iconic city, at a particularly heavy time in its history. They might not take your mind off the bus bombings, but they added their own subversive stories. They gave me a better sense of where I was living. And I enjoyed the drip of the paint, and the photographic stencil which was so simple, yet could communicate so much. As an artist, I had something to learn from them, and I continue to make use of this knowledge.

But when I tried to share my enthusiasm, I discovered that nobody I knew could see them, and neither did they care. Was I imagining these characters? And if not, were they really so interesting? Leora Cheshin wanted to find out. Armed with her camera and her expertise, she turned my wandering enjoyment into a structured graffiti hunt. One thing led to another, Jerusalem led to Tel Aviv, and the final result can be seen in this catalogue.

At this point it is important to note that the auteurs of these works used only grubby, unimportant surfaces, and never, for instance, stone walls. Nevertheless, by now nearly all of them have been painted out or the walls demolished. Luckily, Leora has them safely recorded and preserved in her photo library.

There is something visually satisfying about a rapidly sprayed image on a slowly weathered surface. The peeling layers and pockmarked textures, stains and scratches of colour, add depth to the image, and the image makes the surface worth looking at. Accidental marks become incorporated into the image, just as they do in traditional painting. It seemed that the faceless, helmeted soldiers, found all over the center of town at the time, could give any bit of old wall the suggestion of a bloodstained, battlescarred landscape. They looked like cheap plastic toys in combat poses, as if ready to fight: within the context of the Intifada, it was impossible to know whether they were intended as a protest, a sad comment or a bitter joke.

Man With The Pipe could have originated in an old English school reader but on the walls of Jerusalem, with his urbane smile and brilliantined hair, he is like a ghost left over from British Mandate days. Because of the subversive nature of graffiti, images that might look perfectly innocent in another context seem to be loaded with intent and hidden meaning when found on a wall - especially, perhaps, a wall in a city laden with history. Brooding Palestinian would look intense anywhere. A few strong simple shapes added up to a face no more than 25 centimeters long that could express its mood across a street. I managed to find his creator, Nimrod, and asked whether I could use the head in my own work - he said he had moved on anyway.

But Leora's interest in street art has developed into a passion. It is the Tel Aviv scene that fascinates her, as it keeps becoming more complex and sophisticated, and includes artists from different countries as well as local artists, sometimes working in combination. Until now, there have been two strands visible in Leora's work. There was a strong sense of design and love of texture, colour and composition that led her to photograph patterned leaves, or the shadow cast by a curl of wrought iron. And then, perhaps arising out of her academic background, there was a clear desire to uncover hidden meaning in her subject.

I asked Leora: How does the new work connect with your previous work?

I never start from scratch. I have always started work with something I have found, objets trouvees, if you like, and then I make use of them for my own purposes. They are my source. I never simply record what I find. I have always been interested in issues connected with form and colour composition, and work with this in mind. For me, photographing street art is the same thing. I use the surroundings and the light to create an image which is not just a straight record. I am glad to be helping to preserve work which may otherwise disappear without trace, but my main objective is to make a photograph that satisfies me.

What does the street art mean to you?

These works talk to me. Sometimes I find in them an echo of my own feelings. I am excited by the visual scene on the street. It moves me and inspires me to see artists who invest so much labour, time and money on their work, and run the risk of being caught, for no reward other than to express themselves and to be seen by others. This night world is so different from my bourgeois world, and I am attracted to the daring of these artists.

How do you see it as different from conventional art?

Because there are no galleries involved, or the possibility of selling, the work is made with a different intention and the artists can be completely true to themselves. I remember seeing Bedouin embroidery that was made by families for themselves, and compared to this beautiful authentic work, the ones made for commercial purposes are spoiled and kitsch. Art that comes directly from people, and arises out of their own need to communicate, has always touched me more than art in galleries. Perhaps the worst threat to street art - even more than the municipalities painting it out - is the threat of too much interest coming from the galleries. That could really take away its power.

What about the view that street art is vandalism?

Good street artists are not vandalising beautiful walls. They go for quiet back roads and often work on walls that are going to be demolished. You can go into the slummiest, poorest parts of Tel Aviv and find colour, beauty, wise sayings.

As a photographer of street art, what is your contribution?

My photograph puts the work into context and sometimes adds another dimension to it. I find connections in things that might accidentally land up next to each other. The composition to some extent changes the meaning of the work and can even add to it.

What have you discovered from the new Tel Aviv street art?

It's become an international phenomenon. There are artists who come from America, England, France, the Ukraine, Holland, bringing their own style to Israeli street art. Some of them have become famous - artists like Know Hope, Klone, Foma, Zero Cents, Ame72. Some well known artists like C215 have come to Tel Aviv, left their art on the walls, and travelled on. Street artists sometimes collaborate with each other, and they influence each other. Some works are made by several people, perhaps working at different times. And there is more fantasy, with deep undercurrents and even a secret language. What it means is a mystery...

Anne Sassoon, Artist and Writer Jerusalem 2009

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