From Downtown to
Venice, the city of Los Angeles is stripped of her street art. Gone –
it is nearly all gone. Miles of walls once covered with unique and
compelling works of art now stand bare. Tens of thousands of graffiti
– each one carefully crafted, each one applied under threat of
imprisonment – were removed and casually discarded. This was once a
city where people came to walk among the street-side galleries, where
they hunted for street art in alleys and forgotten spaces, but no
more. The artistic bounty of LA's children is trashed and torn; it
fills nearby hills in useless and soiled clumps. The beautiful images
that once buoyed with raucous passions the hearts of thousands of
virtuous human beings are defaced, defiled, and destroyed.
The phaltscape is
barren and ravished, a monotonous and boring wasteland. Now, the
street art of LA sits hidden from view behind gates and guards, held
hostage by museums that whore it out to their affluent and
agoraphobic patrons. Graffiti is a meritocracy, the most free of free
speech, liberty at her best; it is a realm of endless and rich
possibility that rewards those who keep at getting better. As does
the soul of a wild-born tiger caught, broken, and caged, street art
dies when kept prisoner. Please, City of Los Angeles, stop wantonly
destroying the art your people work so hard to create.
場黑麥
ioanni
elymucampus fecit
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