Football fans and art! What else do you call the deliberate creation of something that pleases the eye and has no practical use? In a village in Germany a wall was painted over with slogans of the local football club. Next to it a small wooden bridge over a stream was decorated with this pattern made from caps of beer bottles. Was it a collaborative piece? From the depth to which each had been punched, it probably was. Football fans can give other street artists a lesson in permanence.
Tag: street art
Street Art of the Rhineland: Monday Art
Street art was everywhere in Germany ten years ago. Now a modern kind of ceasefire has been declared, with most street art being confined to junction boxes. Only seldom does it break its boundaries and spill over on to walls. I saw interesting examples everywhere. The featured photo is of a wonderful piece which graced the old town of Koblenz.
This wonderful painting of a mallard was another piece of street art in the old town of Koblenz. The absolutely realistic picture of the duck, the beautifully rendered background, and the general colour scheme made it one of the pieces that I liked most. The scrawled sign over it is the kind of thing that gives street art its impermanence.
In the very center of Darmstadt I had a nice lunch, but I could not find a coffee. Instead there was this piece of street art. Germany’s love affair with coffee has evolved into a burning passion for espresso. As it turned out, there was a hidden sign in the painting, the arrow made by the space between the lid and body of the machine. This was the direction to a wonderful coffee shop. Street art may be useful even in ways the artist may not have realized.
The overgrown piece that you see here was standing somewhere in the center of Darmstadt. Street art is more ephemeral than most other art forms. But the way the invading weeds had begun to obscure it seemed to be a statement about all human effort and entropy. Such a wonderful ozymandian statement, I thought. Could it have been planned by an artist with a green thumb?
Wakaura harbour
Luck eluded us on our visits to fishing towns on the coast of Wakayama peninsula. We visited two, on different days of the week, and found the village shut down in each case. We’d left Wakaura bay for the last day of our visit to Japan, and it was a bit of a shock to find the docks so completely deserted. Boats were tied up neatly. Fishing nets had been cleaned and spread out to dry. Flocks of noisy gulls were conspicuously absent. At the far end a fish shop was open. Cars came in one by one as we watched. Someone would get down, buy fish and leave. Eventually we walked up to investigate. Some shirasu (whitebait) was drying on mesh tables, and a vwry kind lady offered us some. This is the local delicacy. Since most restaurants were closed, we never got to taste the local shirasu-don. We did have a plate of sashimi for lunch, and enjoyed more of the Kansai-style shirasu.
The harbour being closed turned out to be a bit lucky for us, as we discovered as we walked out along a pier towards the lighthouse at the end. The harbour was full of interesting birds. The highlight was our first ever sighting of the Japanese cormorant (Phalacrocorax capillatus). The strong sun, the absolute quiet, and the birds were quite a contrast to the reminders of the normally busy dockside in the moored boats, drying nets and floaters.
We got warmer as we walked. Our layers began to come off. There was an interesting stone arch ahead and we walked off along the beach towards it. Unfortunately it turned out to be impossible to get a photo of the opening of the arch. Most views were as you see above. It was time now to go find a place for lunch. As we walked along the beach I found an interesting bird’s track. The Family wondered “Can the middle toe really be that long?” Unlikely, probably the heron had been dragging something in its beak. It was lunchtime for everyone.
Doors in Trapani
Glossy paint is not needed when you have a door made by an artist. I’d marked down Cattedrale di San Lorenzo as a place to visit in Trapani. Unfortunately, when we went there, the doors were firmly shut. Although we missed what, by all accounts, is a marvellous baroque church, there was bit of good in that. There were no tourists, and we could take photos of the stunning gates. There are four of them; three in the gallery below, and one in the featured photo.
I had to search a bit to figure out the history of these gates. Bear with me as I bring you up to date. The church dates from the 14th century CE, and was made a parish in the 15th century, and a cathedral in the middle of the 19th century. What you see today was a restoration by Giovanni Biaggio Amico in the mid-18th century. The bronze and wrought iron gates were made by Ennio Tesei in 1990 and inaugurated the same year.
“What a bother,” said The Family, and set off to find something to eat. I followed, but stopped at another grand door on the same street. I could not figure out what the purpose of the building was. But it was grand, sporting lots of ornate balconies, wall decorations like the clock you see above, and many plaster medallions. Probably baroque period was my guess.
Elsewhere doors were more modern and suited for Meta’s ancient photo app (of course, no one posts there any longer, since it is clearly nicer to make a 90 second video of a door and post it at a rival). These two doors stood paces from each other on a path which led one storey higher up and facing the sea. It was a lovely walk, and not only because there were so many doors.
Baroque street
The aftermath of the destructive Sicilian earthquake of 1693 was a spurt of creativity which led to the exquisite architecture of the late Baroque towns of the Val di Noto (South-Eastern Sicily), We did not have time to visit Noto, Ragusa, Caltagirone, Modico, Scicli, and the other towns on this route. So we took our time to walk along Via Crocifero in Catania. It is easy to stop and look carefully at the beautiful facades in the late Baroque style, since the whole area lies in a pedestrian zone.
The first door we passed was open, and people were going into it. The Family asked “Shall we?” I read the little plaque by the door. It was a labour union. The people there might not have objected to us, but it would be awkward. So, instead of going in we peeked through the open door. We could see a second decorated arch through it, and a garden in an enclosed quad; a very classic southern European style. The door opposite was surmounted by a couple of smiling cherubs. One of them had been naughty; its hand was heavily coated in soot. It will take some effort to clean it.
Then came a lovely church door. The enclosure was open, and I entered to find that there was a ticket to enter the church, San Giuliano. We decided to do it later. We took a brief stroll through the church of San Francesco Borgia which stands across the road. And then we were at the top of an alley which led down to the parallel Via Etna. There was a wonderful piece of street art here which you see in the gallery above.
Opposite the alley was the imposing bronze door of the church of San Benedetto, attached to a nunnery whose two parts are connected by the covered arched passageway which gives this street its special look. I’ve written about this church before, so here I will just give you the two statues which flank the perpetually closed door.
And then we came to the juice cart manned by a person we decided was called Ettore. Apple? Orange? Lime? Orange and lime? The Family wanted to share a glass of orange. I put away my fancy camera and decided to use my phone instead. So the two photos above and below are from my phone. The church door behind Ettore was beautifully carved wood. It didn’t have a name on the map, but elsewhere I found that it was a Jesuit church.
We drank the juice, admired the arch, and then passed below it. On our left was the church of San Francesco d’Assisi all’Immacolata, firmly closed against all visitors. But before we got there we passed a shop advertising ganja, next to a bar. Between them was the imposing door you see above. I guess that must give into a courtyard which the backs of these different shops look out on. I didn’t want a face-on view of the statues in front of the church, but the alternative angle which I tried got more of the Piazza than the statues. That was good enough for me. It was a nice baroque stroll which had kept us busy for much longer than I thought it would take. We still had to find cannoli and arancini.
The first walk in Catania
After a long day’s flight we found our room in Catania at sundown, had a shower and hit the bed. A significant lack of sleep and a little jet lag was enough to knock us out for the night. We woke in the morning, had our first encounter with the very sweet breakfasts that we would come to love and dread in equal proportion, and set out for our first walk in a new city.
Catania was hot, even for us used to the weather of Mumbai: hot and humid. The morning’s sun was already strong, forcing us to seek the shady side of the street. We’d expected Sicily to be a shabby chic, but we were surprised by the chic. Some sights were not unexpected: the colours of the houses, the balconies, the shadows. We’d seen them all around the Mediterranean before. Other things were new. There was a sense that we were at a cross roads of the old world, people from Africa and Arabia, Asia and Europe thronged the streets. This was going to be a fun trip, I said to The Family.
Navi Mumbai
Two thousand years ago, the poet Juvenal wrote in a piece called Satires “.. for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses.” For your self-administered examination today, discuss, with reference to the state of the townships of Navi Mumbai and their proliferation of street art.
This was my last photo of August
Art is ephemeral
The doors of a junction box on a road are a perfect canvas for street art. But all art is ephemeral. Someone came by and stuck an advertisement over it. Art defaced without urgent existential reasons! Do we stand for this?
Yours sincerely, wasting away
When I get older losing my hair
John Lennon / Paul McCartnehy, When I’m Sixty-Four
Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a Valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine
An abandoned shoe in the middle of a forest reminded me of a song by the Beatles. I told The Family this. She considered it, and conceded that it wasn’t as weird as some of the other connections I made. I agree that not everything that pops into one’s head makes sense. I’m glad I didn’t say that another song this scene had brought to mind was “These boots are made for walking’.” That didn’t make sense at all.
The world is a hard place today. Peace and beauty are not easy to find. These workers are not in a war zone at least, but their life is not easy. It becomes a little more bearable when they find a community and people to talk to. You have to look for it in unlikely places, and make the best you can of your life and time.
Artists find unremarked walls to paint on. I stopped at such a mark and took a photo. More than the work of the artist, the wall spoke to me: the rough texture, the grime. The cost of spray paint is not something the workers who you saw in the previous photo could afford. Street art is a middle class pursuit. For others, walls are places to lean against.
Moments of sudden beauty can flare anywhere. In a crowded and narrow walkway to the sea, Ganapati visarjan provided me with opportunities for a lot of photos. This was my favourite from that evening.
Accidental beauty can arise anywhere. After eating cut fruits, and before putting the plate into the washing, I paused to take a photo. I’d once made a bunch of cards by floating thin oil-based paints on water and drawing sheets of paper through it. You get a wonderful marbling that way.
Here is a thing that is worth a second look. The first look seemed to show a dry leaf about to fall from a tree. But there was something odd about the way it stuck to the trunk. A second look told me that it wasn’t a leaf at all, but an orange oakleaf butterfly. You see its bright colours when it opens its wings. But it is beautiful even with its wings closed like this.
Door 2 door
Entrances at two levels? No, not an architectural mishap. A fantastic piece of street art is what this is. I’d seen it being painted a couple of years ago in Sassoon dockyard. When I saw the completed work last Sunday on another visit, I was surprised. Trompe-l’oeil is what it is called today, although this style of illusion must be old. There is a story in the Mahabharata about the Pandava’s capital in Hastinapur. It was painted so magnificently that people would try to walk through doors which were painted on the wall.
Don't hold your breath 
