Miami’s Wynwood art scene truly features the most cutting edge and contemporary work by local artists. But just a few years ago it hardly looked the part. For those visiting Miami, the dark streets and alleyways of this warehouse district were far from inviting or inspiring. That all changed when graffiti artist and Miamian, Typoe, started Primary Flight, an organization dedicated to bringing street art to Miami.
Primary Flight brought it in a big way. There are now more than 100 street level murals gracing the walls of Wynwood, bringing life and art to the once drab warehouse district by some of the most influential artists in the biz. Artists like El Mac, Retna, Push, Gaya, Logan Hicks, Michael De Feo, Shepard Fairey, the London
© Venessa Monokian / RumBum.comEl Mac and RetnaPolice and scores more from all over the world.
The artists, who mostly descend on Wynwood every December for Art Basel, have left a distinctive mark on the district. Where there were once white walls are now knockout murals and colorful graffiti art that absolutely bowls you over.
The art isn’t subtle. It’s large and it’s loud and it challenges perceptions. Take a walk and you’ll see surprising depictions and juxtapositions of pop culture icons, religious figures and women. Yes, women. There’s a lot of women on the walls of Wynwood and most are being represented as powerful, sensual and even (in the case of El Mac and Retna’s iconic angel on Miami Avenue and 39th Street) religious.
The murals in Wynwood range from amusing (Tes 1’s dog) to haunting (Johnny Robles woman lifting her dress, which, when you’re standing upon it, has a silvery effect, almost like a film negative.)
Mural artists play with their materials and textures. Pieces such as Boxi’s otherworldly depiction of
© Venessa Monokian / RumBum.comSever embracing astronauts shows how these artists aren’t just graffiti artists, but skilled painters, using their space and pushing their simple materials to create the unexpected.
Fort Lauderdale artists Rory and Scott have reverted back to a personal favorite painting technique, finger-painting to create their murals. And artists El Mac and Retna join forces to create textured portraits (El Mac’s) surrounded by filigreed characters (Retna’s).
The result is that each mural transports the viewer to whole new worlds. In them, we recognize slightly skewed versions of our own world. One of our favorites is Sever’s depiction of Al Pachino (as Scarface), drinking Bubble Yum cola while paying X Box. Behind him are palm trees and a signs for Wal Mart, Toys R Us and Hooters. (Just to the left of this is Rime’s Jesus with an iPod, which literally melts the mural style into the straight-up graffiti style most are familiar with.)
Near I-95, the walls of what used to be an RC Cola plant are now alive with the art of more than 100 graffiti artists. On it, each section seems to melt into the next as the artists worked with one another to integrate their individual contributions. The resulting continuity is surprising, especially when you realize how many different styles, and color pallets, combine to make the formally drab city block explode in color.
In it, are the tell-tale facets of what we call “straight up graffiti” – characters, tagging, and language. The
© Venessa Monokian / RumBum.comDasher Secret.iPod wielding Jesus is one example; urbanized Sesame Street characters are another.
But the biggest examples of straight-up graffiti are the “throw ups,” the stylized versions of the artist’s names done in bubble letters or illegible squiggles. Marking your territory with your name is a huge part of the graffiti art movement. What’s so cool about this huge work is that the lettering of the artist names bleed into each other. Walking around the block – and it’s a very long walk – can shift seamlessly from one lettering style to the next.
This type of artistic comradely is seldom seen on the streets. Most of the time, artists fight, gang-like, for territory. But this new era of street art, one born of respect and appreciation is larger than any kind of territorial spat. Because the “big deal” isn’t the art itself. The big deal is that it’s there in the first place. It’s left the galleries. It has, as Typoe says, “exploded out of the galleries.” And it just might never go back. Because, “When you take public art and put it in a gallery, it just doesn’t fit.” Besides, this art is of the streets, by the streets and for the streets. It’s been created by an entirely different kind of artist for an entirely different kind of consumer. The kind who might not be searching for it, but who delights in having found it.