London-based street artist D*Face is painting a mural in the Meatpacking District.
He's in town for his debut U.S. solo show "All Your Dreams Belong To Us / Ludovico Aversion Therapy" at the Jonathan Levine Gallery.
The show is, in part, about New York's "Shuttered Storefronts"--a topic of interest for many artists these days. For example, No Longer Empty and Nicholas Fraser's memory collecting of empty storefronts.
In an interview in Fecal Face, D*Face talks about what happens when your work goes from the street to the gallery, and the next thing you know, it's coming out in the form of vinyl toys.
About his work, he said, "It was [originally] more escaping the everyday and to get people to question their environment and culture. Question the advertising that is around them. It is a little different now, the more aware the public becomes of street art the less applicable it seems to be. Because it was like 'oh that's D*Face' or 'Shepard' or whoever, instead of what is the meaning behind that."
As even the roughest edges of our city are smoothed splinterless, as the denigrated outsider becomes the high-end insider (Colt 45 at luxe Bowery parties, models dressing up as homeless people, Varvatos selling $700 Ramones t-shirts in the former CBGB's), we are forced to face a number of questions.
When it comes to street art, like D*Face's mural, I like seeing it. I enjoy having it around.
Still, I can't help wondering: How do we think about graffiti when it's officially permitted by the city? How do we think of it when it goes up alongside the new High Line, where unpermitted graffiti is being painted over to create a placid, eye-pleasing environment for property investors?
Is graffiti still graffiti when it's not defacing public property?