Art or Vandalism?

A Local “Tagger” Speaks Out

Oct. 9, 2014

When Kevin Burdick returned to the cistern at the Grand Traverse Commons last summer, he found the enormous steel drum that once supplied water to the Traverse City State Hospital freshly coated in bland, beige paint. The graffiti that once crowded the surface had been covered, but some of the work was spared.

"They rolled over it last year, everything but my pieces, and I thought that was a cool complement," Burdick said.

ILLICIT TO LEGIT

By definition, graffiti is illicit. In practice, street art has earned enough respect and admiration that it is tolerated in some places and celebrated in others.

In Traverse City, graffiti seems to be tolerated in the thick woods at Grand Traverse Commons. On the brick wall of a Front Street plaza, a collection of illegally spray-painted hearts has gradually morphed from a scene of misdemeanor property damage into a beloved backdrop for wedding photographs.

At the InsideOut Gallery in the Warehouse District, owner Mike Curths has commissioned street artists to cover the exterior of his building in brightly colored paint.

"There are cities, even in Michigan, where they’re asking for it; they’re saying, "˜Please,’" Curths said.

For example, Flint hosts Aerosol and Audio, an annual invitation-only event that brings 30 of the country’s top street artists to transform its walls into works of art.

SEE A SWASTIKA, COVER IT UP

Burdick, 29, grew up in Flint and has been coming north to vacation all his life. When he visits, he brings cans of spray paint.

Burdick is a professional artist who airbrushes skulls and other striking images on custom motorcycles. He studied at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh and his work has been featured on the cover of "American Iron," a Harley Davidson magazine.

As a teenager, he was part of a group interested in street art around Flint. He said he never did much illegal work because he wanted his work to last and he also didn’t want to go into Flint’s worst neighborhoods.

"Flint’s pretty tough," he said. "We tried to stay away from the gang action."

Burdick believes the cistern at the Commons is a "legal gray area." He said the territory has been traditionally open to artists. He says he tries to be a good citizen as a graffiti artist. For instance, if he sees a swastika, he covers it up.

"I understand, when you’re a kid, it’s fun to be a little punk, but I want that to be a place for some good street art, so you don’t have to go there and look at that," he said.

"˜COME BACK WHEN YOU GROW UP’

Curths appreciates street art because it’s provocative and interesting. He wishes there was more in northern Michigan.

"[Graffiti] moves me more than to see a mural with lighthouses and cherry trees. I mean, I can walk out my door and see that," Curths said. "In this region, a lot of people don’t get it. People still want that "˜up north’ feeling, you know: deer heads and Paul Bunyan."

Curths has also had negative experiences with graffiti. Sometimes rogue writers make unwanted tags on his building. It’s considered taboo among street artists to mess with another’s work, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.

"I’ve had it happen to me and usually when it happens, it’s amateurs," Curths said. "I’ll go out there and leave a note, you know, "˜Come back when you grow up.’" Curths doesn’t always react with scorn, however. When a piece of art appeared next to the gallery’s side door, Curths left it because he liked the message. It depicts a bearded, pipe-smoking, sunglasses-clad man in a fedora with a thought bubble that reads, "Promote general welfare."

BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

Chase Hunt, 29, got into illicit graffiti as a kid because of his friends. Hunt, who works under the street name SEEZ, grew up in California, but had connections to northern Michigan. He moved here at age 15.

"I guess it was cool at the time when I started doing it. It was like this new thing that I didn’t know about," Hunt said. "It’s been a good and bad habit for a long time now."

Hunt said he no longer makes illegal street art in Traverse City.

"There’s no point in wasting my time for something that could get me into trouble," Hunt said.

Instead, he keeps busy with legitimate projects, from representing the street art scene at an Artcenter Traverse City event earlier this year to organizing the first city-sponsored street art installation at the north entrance to the Larry Hardy parking deck to taking commissions from downtown businesses like the Beastie Boys tribute he created on the side of Harvest restaurant in the alley between Front and State streets. He also organized a dumpster decoration project with American Waste and Westwoods Elementary.

Street art needs to straddle the line between illicit and legit because its counterculture roots and subversive message are what make it relevant and exciting, Hunt explained.

"We want it to be appreciated, but we don’t want to sell out, I guess," Hunt said. "It has been great getting positive feedback from local business owners for projects we’re working on with them."

Hunt also sells his work; his medium is spray paint on salvaged wood.

STRAIGHT OUTTA SWITZERLAND

Steve Cattin and fellow artist Lee Anderson composed the work on the south-facing wall of the InsideOut Gallery a few years ago. 33-yearold Cattin grew up in Switzerland and moved to Traverse City to be close to family and study art at Northwestern Michigan College. He wanted to turn his lifelong love of graffiti into something he could do for a living. Today he is a free lance graphic designer and a pizzeria manager.

Cattin said he admired the American-style graffiti that became popular in Europe in his youth, graffiti that emerged out of hip-hop culture. Cattin said he naturally found his way to street art through his love of hip-hop.

He believes Europe was more accepting of graffiti as an art form, but is happy to see it gain acceptance in the U.S.

"I think it’s becoming more and more recognized; art galleries have graffiti exhibits now," Cattin said.

"˜IN SHORT, IT DOES NOT SUCK’

Some examples of Traverse City’s illegal graffiti have inspired their own art criticism.

A blog titled "Craptag" features posts from someone who calls himself "Tagwatcher." He or she takes pictures of illicit graffiti around Traverse City and evaluates its artistic merits. Tagwatcher almost always finds those merits lacking.

The first post from October 2011 reads:

"It would be different if they were good at it. I propose that Traverse City, Michigan is home to the stupidest, worst taggers in the country. They are so incompetent at it, they should be pitied. Anybody that is this bad at doing something publicly is both untalented and dumb."

Praise from Tagwatcher is dispensed faintly and sparingly. Of a work on the water tower at the Commons, Tagwatcher wrote: "It has form and a sense of purpose. In short, it does not suck. In contrast to all the crap below it, this shows a strong desire to paint an actual artwork. Be sure to believe, this is rare in Traverse City."

Efforts to reach Tagwatcher were unsuccessful. "˜LIKE AN ADRENALINE RUSH’ It appears Tagwatcher has limited influence on the local street art scene; none of the people interviewed for this story had heard of him. They did understand the complaint about low-quality graffiti, though.

Cattin believes much of the spray-painted expression around the city is amateurish, lacks artistic talent and probably should just be considered vandalism. He understands where it comes from, however.

"I think we’ve all kind of had experiences when we were younger"¦" said Cattin, who said he sticks to legal street art nowadays. "There’s kind of like an adrenaline rush to something like that."

Burdick says much of the illegal street art in Traverse City is substandard.

"Go and practice a little on wood or at your house before you go out," Burdick said. "Not to be arrogant, but I think it needs a certain level of talent."

Hunt said street artists should realize that their reputation is on the line anytime they go out and create art, despite the anonymity.

"Anyone who wants to be regarded as a good artist: do good work. Otherwise, you’re going to be recognized as a bad graffiti writer," Hunt said.

THE LINE BETWEEN VANDALISM AND ART

At some point, graffiti transcends vandalism and becomes art, but people disagree over where that line is located.

"I suppose it’s up to the community to decide," Cattin said. "I guess that’s how it works.

You can paint over it or leave it up."

The art versus vandalism debate arose in Traverse City when someone painted hearts all over town.

"Of course, that was a big question: is it art or is it vandalism?" Curths said. "Personally, I thought it was a bit tame."

A Record-Eagle editorial decried the appearance of those hearts five years ago, but a patch of them in the plaza between Cali’s Cottons and Chase Bank has become an institution.

People flock to the backdrop of ivy, beige brick, and black and white hearts to pose for photos.

Hunt said he thinks the hearts are great and they prove how illegal graffiti can gain acceptance.

"It’s awesome and it’s been untouched because people like it," he said. "If there was another graffiti writer or others who didn’t like it, or if the city didn’t like it, they would paint over it."