Street Art Hongdae: Post Script

Tried to wrap up Hongade’s street art in a box and hold it. Six blog posts from those morning walks around the abandoned party shelter. Twelve months of carting a bulky camera around in side bag and backpack, catching paint as I saw it.

With the wound sewn tight, the stitches popped to announce the world is still infected. Before the airplane landed, different scribes drew pictures on the caves here. And so more still will etch and ink the city after leaving.

New likeness lent itself to the park walls that last afternoon in Hongdae. As the last errands ran, still ended stopping with whirling neck to discover as art fresh as bloody baby.

So Hongdae streets, tear down walls and repaint forever with fever beauty. And to Zacpot, the omnipotent tagger: paint it again. Paint As Time Goes By.

Forever.

Street Art Insadong

Hongade is the go-to place for street art, but it’s not the only. Other areas of the city are covered in tags and mural pieces. One place graffiti has been invited in is the stairwells of Insadong’s open air market.

Down one side you’ll see a spray paint Michael Jackson. On the other, a gaggle of DeadMau5ish bunny rabbits point guns and two scribbly rose sculptures. Follow the stems down to a lovers’ lair. There cartoons and sharpie hangul list the crowd of infatuated patrons.

Leaving some local cred on the tourist neighbourhood, a heart from the ever-present Nana. A skip away we find a torn up old home converted to a multi media installation. Outside that is a row of inspired stencils.

And back in Hongdae the final snap. Spotted: Miss Marilyn.

Street Art: Bangkok text

Che is staring at my face, the politics written in cheap, runny ink. Black berets and NWA, Soviets, Nazis, commies, and police. Rabbits and retro train cars glued up in children’s punch-on pixels, the afternoon on Khao San Road.

Rain drops drip down back alleys loaded in sticker secrets, street vendors hawk under signatures of touring and local bandits, and on occasion break into full painted tags. The red box reads Bangkok and Other Places for a stack of postcards prepared in the pack.

A rasta bar red green yellows, all familiar tropes. Tells financial tales: In God We Trust, Everything Else, Pay Cash. Pull out the rest of it and slap it down on books to read in other cities, replacement pairs of jeans.

Load onto the airport bus and get prepared for the Other Place.

Hongdae Street Art: Day 6

Outstretched jaws make way for raindrops, laughter, and the like. The stencil pulls black around the grey wall, draws a photo from the past. The road stretches out into a walkway and up to a park where a dad plays with his son. The footbridge stands above the city on its hill.

These objects of affection put rose glasses on the past. They warp the boy leaning into girl to every date you’ve ever had. The spaceman in his orbit melts the present moment to the birth.

The speech bubble says, “Swap my gold for bubblegum god,” and the deal sounds like a win. A baby-vamp leers into an alley, tosses purple hair. The ghosts barf their clouds into piles of white garbage bags.

The two hold hands and the line comes again: I remember back in the day. And if you look deep enough into the tape on the trash you can see the art. Look closer still and you’ll see he looks like someone you used to know.