Searching For The Archetypal Street Artist

Uku Sepsivart (1/2015)

 

7. XI 2014–1. II 2015
Artists: Natalie Mei, Rauno Thomas Moss, Maris Männik, Kiwa, Kaido Ole, Aleksander Sprohgis, Roman-Sten Tõnissoo.
Curator: Marika Agu.

 

On entering the exhibition hall, we come face to face with a wall of introductory information, written on this occasion using a marker. Typography is complemented by lines that imitate dripping paint. The use of the number 1 has been avoided and has been replaced by the Roman I – or is it a capital "i" as in "Individual"? The list of participating artists is completely unexpected, but it feels like some serious material will be displayed. Unexpected because it is not clear at first glance what might connect these artists and how they might perform within the given theme.

Next, we are treated to video interviews from the very heart of Tartu as a street art town as well as a back-stage view of the scene with people more or less connected to it expressing their thoughts. As an introduction, this is intriguing and humorous and creates a sense of anticipation about the rest of the exhibition, but there is also a touch of nostalgia as if they are talking about something in retrospect. Barthol Lo Mejorgi admits in the video that sadly there are not many new works, which he suggests is due to the abundance of opportunities for making "legal art".

In the next room, we find ourselves in front of Kaido Ole's painting "Nimeta CLXIII" (Untitled CLXIII, 2000) where one "ball headed" stick figure, who could be seen as an anonymous entity, makes a graffiti on a monumental painting that another "ball head" is completing. The motif of the monumental painting functions as an omen, since last year Ole painted a similar image as a mural at Port Noblessner in Tallinn. Hopefully, no one will cover his painting with graffiti as happened to the work of street artist MTO in Tartu.

At the other end of the same room, there is Maris Männik's "Peegelpead" (Mirrorheads, 2014). I had heard of this piece and as I approached it I knew to put the Plexiglas box on my head. I think that the potential of this artwork would be best realised in a crowded environment, but for now we just have to imagine this. This work is especially interesting in the context of the exhibition, making us think about our public image and the criteria for defining the others around us. On what basis do we consider someone beautiful or ugly? The theory of empathy tells us that by mirroring others in ourselves. The choice of material here reminds us of the Panopticon of a surveillance society where a faceless observer is hidden behind one-way glass or a CCTV camera to make sure no one is doing anything they shouldn't. Here, the same method is turned into a tool for personal protection. I remember a time when fame was an asset in itself and young people wanted to become famous. Now, perhaps anonymity has become a privilege, something to aspire to? For those who do not know Männik's mask-maker background, the boxes raise a number of questions.

In the third room, there are display cases which function as independent artworks. In the first dimly lit display, we can see the old weather-beaten jacket tailored made for graffiti pioneer, Bach, by Lille Tom, and some spunky carved metal jewellery that the boys used to wear in their active years.

Above the second showcase, there is a large black shape, which appears to be a map of Tartu indicating the most popular sites for graffiti art. The map is neither informative, decorative nor stylish. The display case below contains photographs that have a slightly historical air about them – some more, some less. There is no principle behind this archive. Rudiments of different classification systems can be seen. In the case of some of the photographs, the artists are noted, in others not. I find a photograph, which I think is from my own blog.

Lastly, I look at the installation by Aleksander Sprohgis titled "Kui sa ei liiguta, siis sa kaod ära" (If You Don't Keep on the Move, You Disappear, 2012), which also functions as a condition or instruction for experiencing the work, and a reference to street artists who, if not producing new work, fall into oblivion. It brings to mind the action artist Erdem Gündüz's standing protests in 2013 in Turkey that proved the opposite. His passivity and standing tight drew a huge amount of attention and inspired a strong wave of passive protests.

"Typical Individuals" – the exhibition about street art – seems to be part of a larger and more ambitious project "Tartu, the Capital of Street Art", or as it is humorously written in the catalogue: How can we make Tartu a city? The catalogue is well composed, pithy and to the point. Professional work. The suggestion to consider all these individuals in terms of the key word flâneur or flâneuse struck me as surprisingly appropriate.

One important aspect stands out in the exhibition – the problems associated with preserving and representing street art, which have also been present in Marika Agu's previous exhibitions. It is positive that the attempts to bring street art in its "pure" form into the exhibition hall have come to an end, because the majority of the works will always remain outside.

The introductory video interviews are appealing, but regrettably they are also the best part of the exhibition. Another central aspect is the archival display cases put together by the curator, where owning the material is the only treatment it gets, as if to demonstrate that it is not possible to fully capture street art. The search goes on. Graffiti and street art retain their inherent non-definability. There are a few pictures capturing mood here, but the rest seem to be collections of site-based photographs that aim to offer an overview of the range of activities happening at these locations. One example of documenting such an elusive self-regulatory process is Carl-Robert Kagge's work "Hobby Hall of Fame 2002–2012" (2012), where the artist uses a chronological approach.

Even if we tried, we could not grasp the true feeling of the works that we see in the photographs. All we can do is look at fragments of a phenomenon and read the complementary descriptions. We can enjoy them, but we do not have to believe them. This is just one method of representation. Just as we can go to a natural history museum to see stuffed versions of wild animals that we cannot so easily catch in real life. And even so, the animal is always more beautiful in its natural environment than in a zoo or stuffed on a shelf. Nevertheless, perhaps we should be grateful that somebody is attempting to preserve these rare specimens, because in the street environment we can only see them as long as they are there.

 

Uku Sepsivart is an artist, one of the authors of a book on street art called "Haiguste ravi. Kontrollitud" (Treatment of Diseases. Checked, 2009) and is currently studying in the Department of Installation and Sculpture at the Estonian Academy of Arts.

 

Tartu Art Museum exhibition view
Photo by Ats Parve

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