Posts Tagged "graffiti"
Busy week over here at the Leg. Gotta make that paper, you know how it is.
More later. Stay frosty, Dedleggings.
Figured it’s been a little too long since I posted up some good ol’ fashioned New York grime. NYC’s still got it! You just gotta know where to look.
Or where not to live, I guess, depending on how you, well, look at it.
There’s something decidedly zombie apocalypse about this shot. Which I’m feelin’. I’m down with the sickness, you might say.
Photography’s for the birds.
Then again, there’s something to be said for keeping your eye on the street…
Papa Dedleg’s off to a slow start this week, but here’s a quick shot of photos to stimulate your senses. And I promise I’ll try to bring the heat tomorrow. Hey, that’s what I promise myself every morning when I wake up — bring the heat, and fix that annoying drippy thing the sink is doing. Yep, I’ve been saying that little mantra to myself for the past 6 years! And it’s never failed to inspire. Really do gotta fix that sink thing one of these days, though.
Speaking of mantras, this is some heavy shit as far as vandalism goes. This next example, however… not so much.
Heh, I’m telling you, Subway ad defacement art is as good as “street art” gets for me. Simple, to-the-point, and almost always hilarious. Who would have thought blacking out somebody’s tooth would just always be funny?
Obligatory sunset photo.
That’s that. And fuck the sink, anyhow. Now that I got this over with, I’ve got some drawing to do.
Figured I’d put up a few flicks since it was kind of dedsville around here towards the end of the week, and it’s a Saturday and I’ve got nothing better to do so… yeah… here’s my last resort. I’m so bored I’m actually updating my blog. Just kidding, I love you Dedleg. Yes, that’s right, I love me. You should love me, too.
Some graffiti artists work in ink, some in paint, some in… a harder medium.…
Utah catching permanent tags, son.
Brew, for two, please.
Fill-ins are nice and all, but bathroom wall art is really the purest form of street art. Even if it’s not, uh, actually on the street, but whatever. It’s not all pee pee and poo poo talk, and drawings of weiners and vaginas, and “you’re gay” this and “call this guy’s mom for a good time” that. I mean, it is all those things, but there’s so much more. There’s some real insightful shit to be found in bathrooms the world over, and I don’t think it’s any coincidence that I just happen to be the most insightful while I’m shitting.
Here’s a very random assortment of photos I came upon while going through the archives last night. It seems sometime around February 15th, I stopped working on my backlog of photos and jumped to more recent shots instead. So now, some months later, that backlog has developed into an even bigger backlog. And I figure I’d better start cleaning this shit out before 2011’s backlog runs into 2012’s. Say backlog one more time.
Sort of a scary image, considering it was 48 degrees this morning. Shit’s coming.
Psh. Anthrax is sooo 2001. Everybody who’s anybody knows that H1N1 is what’s all the rage in biological terrorism today! Get your genetically engineered horror diseases straight, damn.
And if this post was a ecological preserve, this would be the part where creepy windows suddenly become a very invasive species.
Starting the week off with a backlog of work usually isn’t a good idea. And now it is Friday, a day I like to reserve for being incredibly lazy, only my backlog has grown in size, taking on grotesque new proportions. Indeed, my workload is basically a hideous, distorted mirror of all my procrastination, and that, along with seeing those “Cost Fucked Madonna” stickers all over the city, inspired today’s visual diversion.
By the way, the file names for those are really hilarious. They are, respectively, “dedleg-fucked-himself-white.jpg” and “dedleg-fucked-himself-black.jpg”, and both seem to imply a very serious amount of fucking, although the latter potentially strays into offensive (and not to mention just plain weird) black-face territory.
Moving onward… for those who aren’t in the know, Adam Cost is a New York based graffiti artist / widely regarded legend in his own times, who rose to notoriety with his partner Revs in the early to mid 90s. Long before street art became the nearly-legal institution that it is today, Revs and Cost saw a new way to leave their mark on their environment. Combining the concepts of tagging and advertising, they started making posters of out simple 8.5“x11” pieces of paper, with obscure messages typed on them in bold, black text. Phrases like “Cost Fucked Madonna,” “Cost Was Here”, and “Suicide Revs” appeared on the backs of Walk/Don’t Walk signals all across Manhattan. Many years later, in late 2010, Supreme capitalized on their innovation, collaborating with Cost on a number of t-shirt designs. The idea was to remind young street artists that originality reigns, uh, supreme, and no matter what your sticker/poster/self-declared revolutionary concept is, Cost did it first. The ultimate outcome, though, was just a whole bunch of new “Cost Fucked Madonna” stickers covering the LES and Williamsburg.
Now, a parody of a t-shirt design / sticker reprint based on a wheat-pasted poster dating back to the early 90s can hardly be called timely (although it could be called “starving for content”). Nonetheless, this little doodle isn’t quite as irrelevant as it seems…
If we wanted to go the literal route as opposed to the more figurative one taken, the text would have to be modified to read, “Last night, Dedleg’s skateboard ass-fucked Dedleg.” Now, I’d like to leave you with that image, but that statement is a bit of a generalization. And I want to be clear about the state of my behind in a mostly pointless effort to control the inevitable rumor mill. I’ll say it once: there was no real penetration. Of my actual asshole, anyway. The perineum though? Oh man, my skateboard tore that shit the fuck up. And make no mistake, it feels decidedly penetrated.
Anyway, just thought I’d share that little factoid about my day. After all, you don’t get fucked in the ass by your own skateboard and not tell anybody. Or maybe you do? Are these not the kind of riveting personal stories you come here for? As always, I’m just trying to service - I mean serve - my loyal fans better.
But who am I kidding? Everybody knows the only question anybody actually has is, “Seriously though… did Cost really fuck Madonna?”
Sort of a meh pile of photos from some evening this Winter. Noisy photos really bug me, but if I wanted to do night photography right, and use a tripod, I probably wouldn’t have been taking photos at this particular time anyway. I think I was walking to CVS and took the scenic route. And CVS has a strict no tripod or no service policy.
I’ve been seeing this tag around a fair bit lately. Probably a recent art school grad, but who knows. And who knows what it even means, either, but I still like it.
Good ad placement. That is, if whoever put it there was an actual drug dealer. Not the most discreet though, so that’s what leads me to believe it may be a fraud. Ooh! Let’s play drug dealer, tricky cops, or recent art school grad!
I feel like this one is a still screen from a horror/sci-fi movie, like, the second before a terrifying fucking thing jumps through that fence and chewing through people like a pack of Bubble Yum.
That shot of the moon is really the biggest mess of darkness and noise in the whole bunch, but I had to put it up since I almost got hit by a car when I was standing in the street composing it, and no near-death experience should be in vain.
Shoe-fiti man. The very word makes me cringe, but otherwise it’s kind of cool, albeit a huge waste of viable footwear. However, in Williamsburg, shoe-tossing is hardly limited to shoes. As we saw earlier this week, video game controllers are well within regulation, as are baby dolls contorted into some kind of lewd sex act, seen here.
Call it street photography if you want. I prefer the term “anthropology.”
Death might be my general motif around here, but most of the time I don’t mean it quite this literally. At the very least, cartoons of skulls and blood are a lot different than the genuine article. Different context, different aesthetic quality, different ability to make you feel like you’re going to vomit… as you’ll soon see.
This video captures some Brazilian graffiti artists engaged in the perilous form of graffiti known as Pixação, and suffering the extreme consequences. Native to São Paulo, Brazil Pixação tags are mainly cryptic symbols, words and phrases, but the main focus of the art form is getting one’s tag as high as possible. The more precarious and inaccessible the spot, the better. Obviously, such a dangerous form of an already relatively dangerous hobby isn’t free of career-ending occupational hazards, as this video will make you well aware.
The quality is low, but this is still a pretty stunning video. Pay attention at about 2 minutes in — you’ll notice two figures climbing the wall on the right side of the frame. The camera man misses the most important moment of his late friend’s life by zooming in to a nearby window. There’s an audible thumping noise, and when the camera man pans back over to his companions, one of them is missing. Shit has gone south, very literally.
Sad and brutally honest, these are the final minutes of a young man’s life. Maybe he didn’t take the risks of Pixação seriously enough, or maybe he did and subsequently died doing what he loved, with haphazard tags scrawled across the side of a building commemorating his last night.
Just a few shots to start off the week. And they’re probably considerably less effective at doing so than a few shots of espresso, but this isn’t a fucking Starbucks. Yet.
Enough photography for now, let’s get back to that espresso idea. Personally, a caffeine injection is in dire need considering I spent my Easter weekend resurrecting my liver. And I don’t really know if that makes any sense or even means what I intend it to, but I don’t care.
I promised myself I wouldn’t make this just another post full of redundant sunset photos, so then I was like, “well, what the fuck”, and threw in pictures of a bunch of motorcycles and some other generic Brooklyn crust too, because I roll like that.
Anyway, isn’t it just amazing when you learn how complex and intricately planned the Dedleg creative process is? Truly, I’m some sort of mastermind here.
Now, this is not to get confused. I don’t specifically roll like that. But man… wouldn’t it be cool if I did…
By the way, that wall is kind of what I was talking about when I used the term “Brooklyn crust.” Just in case that wasn’t obvious from all the, uh, crustiness.
It’s been a minute since there have been any new photos up on the site. Well, 6 days to be exact, so really, it’s been a whole lot of minutes since there have been any new photos up on the site. Let’s change that, shall we?
Uh… waiting. Oh, right, you guys don’t really have anything to contribute to this process. My bad. Here we go, some rainy pictures for a rainy Wednesday.
I walk past churches like some kids walk around in graveyards at night — just to give myself a good scare on the cheap.
Been seeing these “You Would” tags everywhere. Not sure I’d go so far as to say the dude is a natural talent, but he sure is prolific as hell, and that counts for a lot.
I tend to appreciate some glass between me and the inside of most New York clubs, but failing that, I appreciate a glass between me and the inside of most New York clubs, if you know what mean.