Vandalism or Art?

Vandalism or Art?

This would be a subject heavily argued by some. Is street art vandalism? Or is it a new form of art? Art is always changing and taking on new forms. Only a few centuries ago a painting by Mark Rothko would be shunned, but it became famous art. So how do you determine if it is vandalism or not? Some say the criteria that the art encompasses may define it as vandalism; writing or drawing some accusing towards a shop or person. For those who live in America it can be considered freedom of speech. It is a way to express ourselves. We may be told go for a run, draw on paper, create your masterpiece on a canvas. Is that really expressing ourselves? 

For example, Banksy. You may not know of this artist, but here is one of his works. This image defines  the nature of street art in my opinion. Isn't that where street art all began, cave art? Others may argue no, but I say yes. For the caves were filled with people, all with different opinions(if we say they had different opinions). The image depicts the image being washed away, being cleaned up. The Great Hall of Bulls is famous, well I hope you know that. In Lascaux France the Cave of Bulls has become a symbol for the earliest art. In Banksy's picture it depicts cave art as the first street art or graffiti. If that is so, then isn't it vandalism? Well that's what the image seems to be depicting.

Photo Credits

Even in my quaint little town excitement still manages to blossom. This beautiful mural now has its own picture frame, so no damage can come to it. I feel as if this picture portrays where I live and the point I was trying to make previously. When this was up for only a short while one of the store owners proclaimed that it was vandalism. The store owner wanted to sue Banksy and wash away the mural. Fortunately not many agreed with him and the mural still stands gallantly on the wall. It was art and added a sense of completion to our little town.

Well thanks again to all my readers! I hope I haven't bored you too much with the subject I'm writing about!

Fountain Art

     

Photo Credits Go to My Aunt!
Thank you!

        The wind was blowing through my hair, sending water droplets my way. The fountain chimed and sang beside me. I cradled the drawing book on my knees, letting my hands fly as I sketched. The image was just barely coming into form, bringing with it the contour lines of smokey graphite. It shed the multitude of eraser markings, soon to be replaced with something I strive to achieve. Art.
         The wind picks up, sending the pages whizzing and tearing the page from my book. I vault to my feet, running after my treasure. I clutch the other pages tightly in my hand, insistent on retaining all of them. The wind carries it further away from me, intent on its permanent thievery. It taunts me, letting the page fall delicately, then rising once more out of my reach. I lunge once, feeling the light page skim through my fingers. Abruptly it departs, leaving me with a sense of longing and frustration.
         I stumble down some stairs as the parchment flutters even further away, I at last end up sitting on the steps as I watch glide far from my sight. With my arms crossed I sigh in defeat, there was no way I would ever see that picture again. The picture had been half completed before the breeze decided to its prank. Standing from the cold granite steps, I begin to retrace my steps back to the fountain from which I came. My feet are sluggish, that painting had been one of my better ones that I had wanted to keep.
         Sitting back down near the fountain, I prepare to redo the painting once more. Glancing around at everyone sitting on the benches under the trees I am at peace. To find something so beautiful here in the middle of the city was rare indeed. A family walks up the path and through the trees that guarded the entrance of this venerated haven. The children run up and throw their coins filled with wishes into the clear water.
         A little girl leans over, brown curls falling around her face, and splashes her older brother. They couldn't be more than two years apart; the girl being six and the brother eight. He laughs and splashes her back, soon there is an all out water war going on. They run back and forth up the stretch of the white marble basin, grins of pure delight shining on their faces.

         Grinning I find new inspiration and begin to draw their water fight from across the way, glancing through the shimmering mists of water to glance their sanctuary of fun. My pencil seems to wheel about the page, rapidly giving light to the situation at hand. At last the outline is done, and then the colors come into play. The vibrant red of the girls shirt, the mellow green of the boys. Their chocolatey hair catching the fire of the sun in little strands. At last I am satisfied with the work, and will later add the finishing touches when I am home. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I whip my head around, causing my auburn hair to float briefly above my shoulders.
         A man with black hair and grey eyes smiles down at me. "I do believe this is yours." He hands me a slightly rumpled piece of paper. For a transient moment I don't know what it is, then my eyes take in the image. It was my illustration from earlier. I grin up at him. "Thank you! But I think I have a better one now." I hold up my notepad  and show him the picture of the two children engaged in their water fight. He grins at the new picture. "It looks amazing! You could get this displayed in galleries!" I blush slightly at his words. "I'm not that good, but thanks!" "Well it really captures the moment, good job." I nod slightly, wondering what the outcome of this conversation would be.
      "There's an art contest commencing soon, you should enter." I simply nod my head again. It sounded interesting, but I didn't really want to enter. "Maybe." I say shrugging my shoulders. "You should. It's a fundraiser for schools in Africa." He begins to walk away right as my interest has been caught. "And who knows-" He calls out, "-you may even be competing against me!"With that he turns left and disappears with a wave.

This story was encouraged by the first picture above. The girl in the picture is a statue if you didn't notice, and portrays a kind of essence of peace and creativity. This was taken at the heart of the city, and I just like to know that you can find serenity in even the most chaotic areas.