Happy Saturday, folks.
When I was a teenager, my friend Alice had the coolest parents EVER – they let her have a graffiti wall in her bedroom where we’d scrawl to our hearts content. However, my love of graffiti didn’t start there. In the early 70s, a family friend used up old pots of emulsion to paint a psychedelic, abstract creation of multicoloured symbols, lines and swirls on our garden wall. Every morning as I ate my Shreddies, I’d look out onto it and drink in the colour and free-form nature of it. By the time I was five it was painted an uninspiring white but by then the die was cast: I was destined to be that girl who sees graffiti (like at the #southbankcentre, bottom right) and loses her heart. I understand it’s a controversial subject but it’s not just me who loves it.
A 2014 UK poll found one-third (66 per cent) of people think it can be considered as art. In the right place it’s capable of showing off colour, talent and freedom. What do you think?
Martha, The Colour File x