But what about the desperate and immediate communication of graffiti? In a small private room, in a casually spacious coffeehouse, before many other things happened, I saw/my scouts saw.
Just fall in love
Bitches, stop crying.
ETHERNET.
A discussion of how many dimensions a dot occupies, including time.
anti-graffiti-graffiti.
Bitchez love kittens.
A hand drawn ad for a cell phone repair service.
pleading loneliness and cynicism.
frustrated dialogues about friendship.
Dumbledore's Army 4-Evah!
I saw lots of love, lots of anger, much of it to one guy who was also described as "taking applications", along with miscellaneous phone numbers and fairly specific feedback on the results. Something about the lockable door separating this room from the rest of the shop allowed people to let out some of their feelings and views.
Back to music, after all this was a concert day. Not in a safe private space, I saw other things, social rituals, negotiations, internalized gazes gazing, and I separated myself from it all alternately with years, a table, commerce, and my camera.
The gallery and their many ways of dancing and watching. One woman stood like a lighthouse to anchor her video camera and keep the shot still, another clutched her hands together and kept them tucked under her chin [not quite gothic gamine but close], at least one lied prettily, another danced like Salome's younger sister, some twitched, some gawped, some swayed. What connected these eight was their tinybabypixieness with their piled high hair, smudgy eyes, and slender untried driftwood legs.
the angelic gray/blue/white/silver laptop glow and serene detachment of the sound guy in his isolating booth.
Parking lot graffiti: public/alienated/graphic/abstract Is that always the difference?
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