Bombing The Bridge Over The River Kwaide

Like the bamboo bridge over the River Kwai, Bell's Bridge over the River Clyde is a sturdy structure. Yet, as we all know with all man-made structures, and especially with that Kwai-straddling bamboo span, they are not immune to bombing...











And so, soon after, maybe a week or so, graffiti removal guy comes along and wipes the slate clean but as usual it's a half-hearted affair and so I decided to mock the poor guy even more...




I don't mind GRG removing the narcisstic teenage scrawling - it's a bloody eyesore and tells us nothing other than the tale of yet another ego-obsessed clown.... But leave the good stuff...

Or else.




 Vinz, John, and Spud.

 Modern Life: Getting shot in the head, more getting shot in the head, and crack.




Plenty of foot traffic from all quarters... Bell's Bridge is a fine site for the aspiring street artist who wants to impart a little wisdom upon the ever-descending IQ of the masses. And it's only five minutes from my gaff.




































Self-Publishing on the City's Walls


It seems ridiculous to have fraudsters and liars preaching to us via 20 foot high lettering and billboards the size of football pitches. Whether banks with dubious pasts or pornographic websites who are attempting to normalize perversion through their clever and creative wording (lying), we are, if we live in a city, being constantly raped by advertisers and their shit mendacious messages.

Recently, just along the expressway, two huge electronic advertising podiums were installed to target the car-drivers. Right beneath one of them is an underpass which sees a lot of graffiti (most of it narcissistic and without any clear message). It was here that I put up my first stencil, a simple image of Vinz (from the film La Haine) pointing his fingers (gun style) at the mirror with a single word beneath: Capitalism.

Out of all the graffiti there, only this one was removed by the council-sanctioned idiot who is charged with graffiti-removal. The others were left intact because they displayed a happy friendly image of the world, colourful, smiley, artistic....

I was irritated by this. Here, we have state-sanctioned billboards promoting tosh (and renewing the capitalist quagmire) in 20 foot lettering, and here's poor little revolutionary me writing a tiny stencil in letters half an inch high. I suppose I should be proud, that these tiny letters have managed to irk someone so much that they have erased it from existence. It reveals a lot about the conventional mindset of state-sanctioned people....

At any rate, I went back the next week and did eight stencils where the single one had been... 

Idiots get to learn the hard way.






A LIVE EARTH RECORD: RECORDABILITY AND RETURNING THE STRATH TO THE HEART

In an era of artificial recording devices we are immersed in the corruption of Memory. We see through smartphones, and hear through headphones, and appear to record everything.

Yet, existentially, we record nothing except noise, the noise being the inauthentic and the twisted through: the mediated and fashioned. As organic beings we 'record' naturally through the natural media and technology of our senses and the body's various systems. When we outsource this natural recording ability to machines that appear to record (which record outside the body) then we are foregoing a vital part of our being: that of breathing with and being at one with the land you are walking through. Indeed, the feet are great recording devices, great communicators, insofar as walking openly is a form of talking with the landed and earthed self. To give up this kind of walking is to give up this chthonic discourse that reveals land and creature to be one. As its etymology suggests, to record (from the Latin prefix re- to restore + Old French coeur, heart) is a restoration of the heart. It is thus also a restoration of Memory. Through this kind of original recording one connects and anchors (to place). One becomes intimate with this place insofar as you begin to see its innermost secrets revealed. It is thus a revealing of our own innermost secrets and essences, and in this way, re-collects that which has been covered over. The body is grooved into the earth via the feet and the senses, just as the earth is grooved into the body. In certain persons of the earth, one can still see these grooves and natural indents (whether in the bare-boned feet or in the weathered and seasoned face itself) where sustained live contact has been made. 

By truly recording the land, you enter into a fresh relationship with it, one in which the land can no longer be treated as some thing which is there to serve and provide for you whilst you pollute it with your fumes and your inauthentic ways of living. The land has now been returned to the heart - walked and recorded naturally - as your heart expands to encompass it. The land and organism are now one and together, together simply meaning 'to gather (yourself)'. This natural exploration, of gathering and collecting, of restoring and originating, is at the forefront of Memory and remembering. Remembering not as recalling dry episodic facts and dates, but 'existential remembering' that connects you with everything else so intimately as to force you to re-examine the nature of identity, and of being.

It is this organic gathering that we most need today, galvanized through the moving blood and through the natural media of the cleansed senses and the self-cleansing locomotive body. Without it, we will remain as existential shrapnel - if you artificially record, you will artificially remember - natural beings contaminated by artificial recording devices, and fragmented entities hellbent on tearing each other apart for no other reason than our own existential ignorance. 

The human is the diamond needle that records and plays back the song of the earth simply by walking and being in it.