martin luther king depicted with the aboriginal flag. universal message. sydney, australia.
camperdown cemetery. sydney, australia
camperdown cemetery. sydney, australia.
hello! it’s been a long time since i’ve updated my blog. this is my first post of 2013, and i am now living in sydney, australia - specifically in the suburb of newtown, which is overflowing with graffiti, street art, peeling posters and handmade signs. however, the first time i felt truly compelled to pull out the camera (iphone, rather) was today at the camperdown cemetery, one of sydney’s oldest cemeteries. the juxtaposition of the tombstones (some almost 200 years old) and the graffiti was quite thought-provoking, as i changed my point of view numerous times throughout my meandering stroll. at first, i made the pretty obvious observation of the sacred (easy to do when the inscription of most tombs begin with ‘in sacred memory of…’) and the profane (easy to do when so much of the graffiti is, well, profane).
but is it that simple?
if (when) the graffiti is 200 years old - wouldn’t we regard it as more sacred than profane? less arcane, crew-specific eyesore, and more historical record?
but then again - the graffiti is dishonoring the memory those buried there…or at least disrupting the visual peace of those who go there to remember them, isn’t it?punctuating the equilibrium of the fluid browns and greens, stone and trees, that make up the space.
but then again - we can’t know if the people who left the graffiti intended to be disrespectful. i like to imagine that they’re teenagers…challenging themselves to be in a graveyard at night…leaving their own marks on the world, and somehow, whether they can name it or not, feeling grateful to be alive - walking out of the cemetery feeling bolder, stronger, braver…perhaps i am ascribing too much thoughtfulness to the average teenager with a can of spray paint.
it’s been awhile since i’ve updated here. my husband and i have been on the move over the last year - kabul / california / australia / dubai / oman…and now we are calling astoria, new york, home. these are some of the images i’ve been collecting over the last year.
dubai is a city-state which punches you in the gut with the juxtaposition of the uber-wealthy and the desperately poor. like the empires of old, this is a city still under-construction, still being built upon the backs of modern-day slaves. often, they are bidden to construct the bizarre flights of fancy and whim which cater to those who come to dubai to be dazzled and awed -and who go to great lengths to ignore the sweating, hungry man with the hammer and nails.
sure, this happens everywhere to some degree. but, in dubai, the scale is simply magnified. there are a lot of great articles out there about the migrant workers in the united arab emirates, their treatment, their existence in the hidden male-only shanty towns, the promises of remittances to families that never materialize, passports confiscated…
here we see giant dinosaur sculptures in plastic, doubtless for some themed event, being assembled on jumeirah beach in 102 degree heat.
graffiti - yemen. in terms of what i was saying below about my love of graffiti - the public-ness (new word) of it, the shared space which can be either intrusive or engaging, offensive or inspiring (or any combination thereof depending on who’s looking) - i love everything about this photo: the public foosball (spell check actually wants me to capitalize foosball, i refuse) the spray-painted signs on the walls of the old city advertising a salon, among other things. there is simply no wasted space in this moment.
