Viewing San Francisco From the Inside and the Inherent Narcissism Therein

So in section this week we talked a bit about how we view the city and the stigma against being a tourist. The question posed, at least by the slide presentation, was "How do you view San Francisco?" I had this immediate need to prove myself. This desire to broadcast how well I knew the city I claimed to be from. Like I would win some award if I could just name more obscure landmarks and out hella everyone else in the room. And the more I sat there and listened, the more I realized we all have this strange internalized need to never be a tourist. We all want to view every city we visit like this:
                                                                                                           
But really, by doing that we're forcing ourselves to see everything like this:
 
 Which is just no way to learn. Wandering around the city when you belong there, you definitely notice the people who don't. But within that group are the tourists- and yes, they do more often than not get in the way and make me want to cry when all I want is a damn doughnut, but at least they're smiling- and the people who just seem lost. Refusing to enjoy being a tourist, not buying the maps, trying to act like what you know what you're doing is going to get you seriously lost. Especially in a place like San Francisco where the streets make no sense 'cause they all wrap in on each other, occasionally change name, and more often than not don't have street signs.
Point is, my view of San Francisco, the one that comes from living five minutes outside of it my whole life, looks something like this:
 
(Because that's where my chiropractor is)

 
(Because that's how I get literally everywhere)
 

(Because I've been talking to this guy for years--his name's Oscar)

 
(And because I've walked down this street more times than I can remember)
But that's just one person's perspective. And it's not any better than this one:

 
Nor is it any worse, for that matter. (I only say that because that is an admittedly pretty picture.)
When I think of San Francisco, I think of the places I've been going since before I could walk. I think of home. And I have this problem where when people visit I tend to just take them to my favorite places to eat and forget that the tourist traps exist. At least until after we eat, anyway. It's okay to want to be familiar with big cities or small cities or whatever, but as a culture we really need to let go of this idea that we're better than someone just because we don't want our picture taken in front of a landmark.

Street Subversion: Political Statements Through Time

Street Subversion: Political Statements Through Time

It is fair to say that for most artists, the overall goal of their work is to “educate the masses”, regardless of what form or type of art he/she pursues. Reclaiming San Francisco specifically focuses on murals and street art under an umbrella of a contemporary postmodernist wall painting.  

However, I think that this umbrella has changed significantly through time. The book talks about “Los Tres Grandes” and Mexican murals of the 1920s. These murals are a celebration of the poor working ethnic families, a celebration that was at the time often frowned upon (and actually still is, look at some of the murals in downtown Los Angeles...scary similar).

SF Rivera Mural:

Los Angeles Mural:

Another thing that I was thinking about while reading Reclaiming San Francisco is the upkeep of these murals. Rivera died in the 50’s...so who’s job is it to keep these murals looking beautiful?

Interesting article in the SF Gate that I read if you are interested!

http://www.sfgate.com/art/article/Building-a-home-for-City-College-s-Rivera-mural-3572583.php

On a side note I also want to mention that here in Santa Cruz there is an ongoing battle with the city over restoring murals. I forget how much money, but the City of Santa Cruz has an allotted amount of money for the upkeep of public art, however there is little to nothing being done to fix the already painted murals from the 60’s and 70’s. Instead, the City is only using the allocated funds to paint new murals, all they are letting the older murals be whitewashed and slowly disappear overtime. Kind of an interesting little side note.

Anyways. Moving onto street art. So when comparing current street (not just graffiti also billboard altering as the reading says), I find it terribly difficult to compare the two in such an interchangeable, relative way -- especially in the way that they are talked about in the text. It seems to segue into talking about street art it this really easy, perhaps even slightly ignorant way. Yes, they are both beautiful pieces of art, methods of art, public art. But it seems to me that it is somewhat degrading to lump the two together under an umbrella of postmodern contemporary wall painting.

Yes, they make similar statements, but they are period pieces. If a street artist travelled back through time they would probably be thrown into jail for the work they do. Vice versa for mural painting? No...but there is a stigma that comes with street art that makes it powerful.

If a portion of this was done on a corner or sidewalk people wouldn't notice it. It would probably be though of a just a tag, not art. So why, when its mulitplied X times, does it become art? Who draws the line? Food for thought I guess.

Thoughts on Dharma Bums

"Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running—that's the way to live."

What begins as a happy-go-lucky tale of a young American bum, hot on his luck, hitching and catching freights across the country becomes a highly personal exploration of the young man's spiritual experience. In many ways, Ray is the perfect "bhikkhu." He pays attention to any and all of this thoughts and actions, chronicles them intently, self-criticizes, self-praises, and, most of all, self-reflects through his writing. On the other hand, Ray could be compared to a Zen puppy dog, mind always a-springing, lapping up traditional Zen literature with seemingly no judgement, over-stimulated and over-eager to fit into a culture that exists thousands of miles, leagues even, away from his own. In so many ways, Ray juxtaposes himself. He meditates on the buddha-mind, an enlightened mind that has little interest in the physical world, yet also he obsesses over his writing and documenting of his experience. The very publication of the book itself is a contradiction: a lengthy rant about a spirituality that is in many ways wordless. The contradictions here don't negate Ray's sincerity, rather, they seek to hilight the contradictory nature of Zen itself, and they illustrate his eventual understanding of the Zen mind. 

Zen tradition is full of wit, trickery, and irony. Its philosophies are full of contradictory statements, its teachings play off of impossibilities that are laid out to seem utterly possible. "Finding Nirvana is like locating silence." In this way, the beginner Zenist, like Ray, may be caught off guard. An influx of literature that calls one to act, then subsequently disproves itself against that action might at first confuse a person. Ray is taking this all in with wide, eager eyes. He is innocent and accepting, and he takes Zen farther than it is meant to be taken. But that is the point. In order for Ray to learn that Zen really teaches you that you already know all there is to be known, he must first let himself feel as though he is learning something new and exciting. He must unleash his thoughts in order to enjoy reigning them in. 

At the end of the novel, Ray says goodbye to his campsite with the simple statement, "thank you. Blah." By saying this, we get the idea that Ray has gleaned some insight from his Zen practice. The book spins itself into a close. It expands, like Ray's mind, with puppy dog enthusiasm, and then learns to reign itself in, finally finishing with just, Blah. Blah -- in other words, you don't have to say it. In other words, anything to be learned is already known. Blah -- in other words, that's the point of it all anyway, that there is no point. 

Mobstr and Street Art Symbiosis

In today’s class discussion we talked about commissioned art versus street art, and the placement of both of those within the city. While it was mentioned that commissioned art works within the sociopolitical boundaries, because it is controlled to an extent, I think the same can be said for street art. Non-commissioned art/murals/graffiti is powerful in that it tends to live longer than in less affluent or commercial neighborhoods, where beautification is not at all a priority; however it can be argued that art in high-traffic areas is equally powerful in its brevity. The artist knows that the work is only temporary, yet has the opportunity for more attention if it created on the side of a building in frequented tourist or commercial hub. The art is special in its rarity. This reminded me of Mobstr, a street artist in the UK, whose art gained popularity on the internet by creating an almost conversation with the city’s beautification department. This relationship, of art created to be destroyed formed an almost symbiosis, giving Mobstr a method for moving his visual story forward, every time something of his was erased, it provided space for him to create something new.

 In these visual stories, Mobstr epitomizes the relationship between censorship and the art is destroys.

 As well as points out the stigmas surrounding street art...

versus the words commissioned by the city.

He covers topics from human relationships...

..to ecological conservation.

He shows how ignored words can be important...

...and important words can be ignored.

 Plus he's funny.

And takes the idea of underground art...

...and pulls it above ground.

He forces you to look at his work...

...and think about your own.

Because,

and that is pretty incredible.
Sorry for the long post guys, but his stuff is all really incredible and definitely worth paying attention to.
To learn more about Mobstr and see his art, visit http://mobstr.org/the%20written%20word.html