Poem: Graffiti God Pre-packaged. Populated by the operating system. Infrastructure humming beneath the skin of things. What feels alive is hidden. Violence expressed in neon lights, fluorescent sameness— a fence to lean someone against while they are beaten by the reflection in their phone. Now I look through the glass darkly. But one day— face to face. Down in the ruins, amongst the colour of a graffiti god, you can still talk to yourself— the last place left where nothing is trying to sell you back to yourself.
I loved the contrast here; it feels like a painted fracture between reality and illusion.
I like the composition of the photographs.
Oooh yeah...
"the last place left
where nothing
is trying to sell you
back to yourself."
Street art has a lot of that motivation....
D