Thanks to Fuel for this….pic by Choci Roc

Robbo’s 25 year old masterpiece, on the back of BTP HQ, by Regents canal in Camden, despite being tagged was still visible until it was ruined by Banksy two years ago.

It was restored  on Christmas Eve; finally, after the ‘battle’ that commenced two years ago and hopefully this heartfelt tribute and authentic restoration will draw a line under this epoch defining saga and will be left alone as the graffiti writing community and Robbo’s family try to come to terms with Robbo’s currently unchanging condition.

You are never far from our thoughts big man, we hope and dream of the day you recover and are with us once again, you gave so much.

A Happy New Year to all the Real

We Rock Hard in association with The Doctor’s Orders present…

The King Robbo Fundraiser & Art Auction 

which is to be held from
1pm – midnight Sunday 4th September 2011
@ Cargo Courtyard, 83 Rivington Street, London EC2A 3AY (Old Street Tube)
Minimum donation £5 in advance or on the door

ALL PROCEEDS GO TO THE ROBBO FUND
GET TICKETS NOW

With a legendary line-up of DJ’s LIKE LONDON’S NEVER SEEN

…….

Choci (Tonka, Choci’s Chewns)

Artists contributing work to Auction include

Andy Seize  Goldie  Fuel  Reas  Prime  SheOne  EGS WD  Care  Pranksky
Panik ATG  Zomby  Tizer  Don  Bonzai  Zaki  Part 2  Hush Oscar Wilson  Will Barras  Emarama

and many many others…

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO DONATE SOME MONEY DIRECTLY INTO THE ROBBO FUND

TO HELP OUR FALLEN BROTHER

OR IF YOU ARE AN ARTIST AND WOULD LIKE TO DONATE SOME ART

PLEASE GET IN TOUCH

here

AND I WILL FORWARD YOUR DIGITS OR EMAIL ADDRESS TO A MEMBER OF

WRH FAMILY

WHO WILL GET BACK TO YOU DIRECTLY.

Don’t forget you can now watch the incredible Graffiti Wars documentary on Youtube

Sorry I’m late blogging this, Robbo’s documentary is on Channel 4 tonight (14th August) but can be viewed again online here I’m on there giving my two bobs worth as are many oldskool.

I first started watching then bombing the tube trains properly when working as a messenger boy in the city in 1986 as the first proper wave of graffiti writers got serious.

Sitting on the grimy platform clutching my documents heading for PSAC or wherever my round took me; my dull dead end job was set ablaze with a riot of colour almost every time a train clattered in.

I would sit spellbound for ages, the juddering bare steel of the train, electronic hum of the motors, the smell of the brakes, mysterious allure of the forbidden tunnel illuminated in spasmodic flashes of blue lightning as the train careered in carrying its promise of renegade artworks framed by the nearly derelict tube system and crumbling Victorian brickwork of the ancient city.

This transformed the experience of witnessing train graffiti beyond the leafy lines and lanes of the Hertfordshire suburbs, where my own train painting career started.

If a train came in with a full colour piece on it I rode that car jumping out at every platform for a glimpse, then back inside until the next stop would allow me a few seconds more to grab another look….

The first names I remember seeing in abundance were Pim 17, Prime, Fly, Elf, Buf, Fuel, Ice 3, Jano, Envy, Sir Beau, Kick 4, Set 3,  Chico147, Kis42, Tilt, Doze Bos, Chane, PiC, Choci and others and the one that towered above all in his sheer prolific domination of the city was Robbo 484.

Let me try and get this over to those who weren’t there at the beginning…..

Okay lets just say I was going down into the tube at Liverpool Street, amongst all the tags you’ see ROBBO 484 in paint in the prime position right next to the ticket box, about seven foot up, you walk to the platform and wait for the westbound circle line train, when it comes in you see the front and outside covered with Robbo R letters.

You get in a carriage the doors close and on each panel above the window is a Robbo tag.

As you travel along you notice Robbo tags on almost every passing platform, you get off and change onto another line, on the walk to the platform more Robbo tags, the train rolls in and… wow amazing… a Robbo full colour piece on the side, you decide to wait and watch on the platform, out of the next five trains that pull in three are covered in Robbo throw ups, you decide to go to the surface for a cup of tea, up the escalators on the curved ceiling about twelve foot from where you stand on the metal step more Robbo 484 tags.

You come out on the street, walk a couple of miles and get on at a different tube line, en route in the high street you see massive Robbo silver pieces along the high streets and on the sides of the flats.

You get to the next stop get on the train on the completely different line, more Robbo throw ups on every car of each train, you look out of the window into the tunnels, more Robbo tags out of the tunnels then overground, on warehouses you whiz past ROBBO in huge silver letters, EVERYWHERE, ALL CITY KING…and this all by 1987 which he kept up for many years.

I didn’t know who he was back then, just that he was this omnipresent enigma with apparent super powers and balls of steel, but his early pieces and infiltration of every train depot on every single line on the Underground system, his painting of trains in multiple European cities including Amsterdam, his painting of a New York subway train well after Mayor Koch’s Graffiti clampdown and his continuation of high level bombing of the London Underground system meant he was not only world renowned but known by every person who had even the remotest interest in graffiti in the late eighties, nineties and new millenium.

He painted countless panel pieces, numerous wholecars and even painted the legendary Christmas wholetrain with Drax WD. Long before the internet photos of his trains were circulated by post the length and breadth of the country, his name spoken in the hushed tones of awed reverence in the decades after he became King though he never made a penny from his efforts or even wanted to.

Cue Banksy’s entrance to the London scene in the early 2000s, at his introduction to Robbo, Banksy’s reply was…

“Never heard of you…”

Says it all really, to say you’ve never heard of Robbo in the graffiti world after all the countless risks to life limb and liberty he took to become so well known and to birth graffiti as a serious democratic movement that was open to everyone, a King, is an insult,  like saying “I’ve never heard of you” to the Queen or the President of the USA…. calculated and arrogant pure and simple.

Despite being mainly a ‘bomber’ of tags, silver-dubs and throw-ups, which may well have been perceived as an eyesore to many fine art buffs, he did countless amazing pieces, his contribution to style and to the movement that we have today cannot be underestimated, there would be no “New Contemporary Art” if there was no Robbo and others like him.

Although very much ‘classic’ New York graffiti inspired he was already by 1985 making waves in the London forefront of style as is demonstrated by the following piece, when most people were still mastering the art of writing a tag.

That piece survived intact, on the back of British Transport Police HQ, no less, his sworn enemies, who had the respect for him to leave it intact for 25 years.

Apart from a few scrawls but was largely still legible and a clear demonstration of how what is now the biggest art movement in the world was pioneered in its infancy.

That is until Banksy in his infinite wisdom, destroyed the piece in the Christmas of 2009, by turning it into wallpaper, the ultimate disrespect. Robbo, by now a family man and long retired from graffiti, came out of retirement to settle the score by doing to Banksy’s ‘adverts’ what he had done to Robbo’s sacred relic, an example of the earliest proliferation of what is now the biggest art movement in world history, it should have been left for the enjoyment and education of future generations no matter how much it had been worn away over time

Somehow, despite Channel 4 making a documentary about it and millions of genuine graffiti artists around the world being outraged by it, and it being the first thing that springs to mind for millions when Banksy’s name comes up in conversation…..there is no mention of it whatsoever on Banksy’s Wikipedia page!!!!

WHO WRITES THIS STUFF???

Shome mishtake shurely…..

PS

Why is there a Banksy ‘flower chucker’ at 00.00.09 in the trailer video????

Why did Pure Evil persuade Robbo to do his show in his gallery when he is Banksy’s loyal mate and was appalled at Robbo’s destruction to Banksy’s works???

He was so furious at Robbo’s retaliation against Banksy pieces in fact, that he was actually getting people to phone me up in early 2010 trying to find out Robbo’s real identity.

Now he’s trying soooo hard to be bestest buddys with the ‘big boys’ in the underground graffiti writing world after years of putting graffiti writers down then going on about how superior ‘street art’ is……

Curious as to why? A genuine change of heart?

Anyway, now for something completely different……

HRH Fuel

Intercrime, Cold Crush Dukes, Yardies, We Roc Hard

over Pure Evil

East London 9th July 2011

Yet that has become the accepted ‘modus operandi’. Here is my compendium of wisdom on CENSORSHIP , as published in the current issue of LSD Magazine, preceded by an introduction, and followed by a piece of film….

The battle against censorship in art in these times, is a long and lonely road beset with hazards. However it is a battle that has found me, not I it; and one I accept alone.

However certain giants of oldskool graffiti and now the broader underground too, have recognised my plight and shown me tacit support and thus added to my strength to continue my personal struggle for artistic freedom, and there I have found something of the true spirit of human empathy and expression.

However it must be said that even without such support I would gladly continue my path.

By accident of birth I found myself able to draw and paint, by longing for expression I found myself on the streets with crude anarcho stencils then by the mid eighties the train yards with my dreams on metal in motion and colour, then acid house parties with ultraviolet paint, then in the studio with oil and easel where I laboured for 20 years amidst a stack of books and immersed in the study of the Old Masters, then back to the streets.

Here I found many from those train yard days too had moved on, and like me still had little voice in an art world supposedly freed for “the people” by the new wave of ‘street artists’ if you believe the PR, as I did for a while, but in reality I found the art world in the stranglehold of a voracious cartel.

They saw its’ potent symbols, identity and lexicon merely as a vehicle for profit, be it of narcissism or cash, and saw myself and others like me who held their meaning dear, as a threat to be pushed aside, silenced and ignored, or charmed, duped, bribed, gifted and flattered into acquiescence.

In my search to show my own work outside the confines of this closed shop which rejected my every inroad outright, found me allied with other oldskool writers who shared my alienation; those who shared aspects of my story, continued to make art and thus identified with my plight.

At that point a journey was embarked upon, in the true DIY ethic of the punk rock I grew up on; to build  something from the ground up and set up our own gallery, then a notice was pinned to my wall warning me against such an act, which was ignored, then a car was driven at me. How scared the cartel must be of the reality of art to act this way!

London writers of our generation experienced something no other artists ever have or ever will.

Not only were we the first proper ‘wave’ to saturate the trains but we were, in these heady days witness to the most concentrated awakening of consciousness in the history of the planet, even stronger in its’ pure intensity than the hippy explosion of the 1960s….acid house, the full unforgettable syncopated sensory plunge into the inner world and holographic universe in its’ purest form.

With the biomorphic shapes and ever mutating motion of graffiti lettering and clattering of wheels on tracks resounding in our heads we were then thrust into the hallucinogenic meltdown squelch of the Roland TB303 synth and relentless kick drum, in an ancient shamanic dance, now laser lit, that broke down our very DNA and reassembled it in under the strobe as brave new beings.

The B.P.M of Jack the T.A.B now forever in our bones, was a dance that accessed the ends of the universe and the building blocks of life itself and brought the shapes alive in a synaesthesiac time warp of sound which we reassembled as art.

Think Drax’s abstract wholecar hallucinogenic zigzags and loops that shook, rattled and rolled with the funk of the underground, possibly the most viscerally stunning and ‘primeval’ of these utterances which propelled the magical art of the ancient sacred cave screeching and clattering through the tunnels of the Circle Line, think of Fuels epic, heroic, mythical and  prolific visions of numinous otherworlds, Nu Age lava lamp styles,  and spontaneous quasi-religious poetic scrawls which set apart his hard won crown as an unbelievably prolific outsider and fearless groundbreaker, of Cherish’s aztec jelly-mould styles, Acrid’s spontaneous abstract panel pieces, Mean’s ‘dancing’ letters and experiments in spatial distortions of  perceptions of the street and in the flowery spiralled tags and squashy throw-up letters that abounded all over the system from everyone from Bus One to Drop One….

Graffiti and the ‘invisible world’ go hand in hand from the earliest engravings on caves, but in London in 88-90 as the golden ages of acid house and train graffiti emerged side by side the two cross pollinated in a style never seen and have left a legacy that grows, albeit often hidden, to this day.

These writers I held in awe, some I painted with then, others I paint with now, others I’ve never even met, they and many more are those that awoke my curiosity and unwittingly guided my path, that lit my way inspiring my search for my own voice in art just as much as the surrealist and visionary painters such as Ernst, Matta or Blake. They all had the vision and pluck to rise against the conventions of graffiti or the art of their time and take it further, into the ‘otherworld’ as opposed to contemporary stylistic convention or current profusion of stage managed saccharin gimmickry, as did Blade and Futura in their own way in New York.

Some of these writers, those with the inclination are continuing their investigations, imaginations freed by the movement, electricity and industrial energy of dirty London train graffiti, freed by the spectacular inner pyrotechnics and spiritual inner joy of “The Experience” still working out their visions….others like a fine wine or lively cheese have matured, taking their influence from their life in the outer world , the enlightenment of travel and the information age and their ruminations on our culture, their continuing legacy, or of literature and their epiphanies in Eastern mysticism or the delirious ravings of the romantic poets…

The spirit of the individual is that which drives such people and which gives life to the pioneering uncategorisable works that are created in the awakening’s wake….we are many and we have many creative years of our lives ahead of us….

Is it street art? Maybe not, as the current use of the term has lost its’ value, but we were and still are street artists, the original street artists of this generation..

Is it fine art? It can be, yes, but freed from the stuffiness of the academies, the hierarchy of art’s cartels, and the rules of the classics.

Is it graffiti? That depends where it is and what its saying, but we’re all writers, whatever medium we use and its’ fluid dynamics once it met ‘jack the groove’ leave a legacy and flow that carries into whatever art we may make…

London’s scene uncovered a timeless dynamic and fused it with mass transit, lighting a fuse in many a mind. that meanders through the infinite illumination of the information age and the dusty tomes of arcane lore….

Is it a movement?

No! It’s a continuous and ancient undercurrent in human culture that took on a hearty mutation and new direction and after incubation and ponderance among many individuals is rising its’ head.

We need no labels, but we do need awareness, if we are to transcend the current serpentine hierarchy of control with its’ false flags of freedom, empathy and anarcho-meritocracy under which it aggressively infects, maligns and attempts to ‘own’ and thus censor every new growth of culture with its’ covert influence, contrived infiltration and complicit continuation of their monopolist values which celebrate denunciation of free thinking and original expression in favour of imitative, non-challenging, anti-cerebral, overtly commercial empty gesture and fake posturing.

That is what I was, (at the time unknowingly) trying to challenge by setting up a space in Brick Lane.  I got out of train graffiti in 1989 and while still painting the odd piece I pursued the hallucinogenic mythical experimentation, as I re-emerged and hooked up with old comrades and certain old heroes who I now count as my friends, it confirmed my suspicions how much there was so much more to come from this dynamic still, how much was being ignored and deliberately censored, how we writers, far from the way they had been portrayed by the street art cartel were often the most intelligent, honest, open minded, poetic, enlightened and the most socially and politically aware.

All the things elements the collective wore on their sleeves as commercial false flags we carry in our heart as our life and purpose….

Any schism is not graffiti versus street art, it is of the authentic versus the synthetic, the individuals against the collective, freedom versus censorship, spirit versus mammon.

I attempted to escalate this spirit to the next logical level, into physical space, as an accidental by-product in my own search for somewhere real to show my own discoveries in paint, a place where the phenomenon that gave my work life and from which new ideas continually emerge, could be appreciated, contextualised and given due consideration for everything it was, is and will be for many years to come.

But such expression did nothing to glorify the cartel so was banned.

While I would not consider myself an Objectivist and would most definitely consider myself a proud (though discerning) altruist in opposition to many Randian thinkers, I maintain this speech given by Howard Rourke in the courtroom scene from The Fountainhead to be one of the most remarkable edicts of truth in the history of expression.

“Uprock is an all day Aerosol Art and Hip Hop event. Featuring legends of the UK graffiti scene Fuel, Prime, Cry, Doze and Merc with sounds from Kane FM.

It is at the Boileroom in Guildford just off the A3.

The artists will be painting on boards outside the venue while inside will be an old skool hip hop fest! Uprock is family friendly with all ages welcome!

The event stars at 11am and is free to get in throughout the day up till 8pm when it is then £6. Check us out on Facebook or the Uprock Website.

See you on Sunday!”

Fuel

Prime

Doze

Merc

To get those oldskool vibes flowing in here’s a video panorama I made of last years Olds Kool hall of fame bash, featuring work by Merc, Doze and Prime who will be painting at the event….

…aswell as pieces by Etch, Rage, Robbo, Choci-Roc, Jet, Shades, Keen One, Insane, Me, Disk, PIC,  Rage, Shuto, Drax, Don, Part 2, Skore, Kilo, Daze and many more…

I made it a few months ago but never got around to posting it anywhere so here it is…..all power and strength to Robbo 484 -get well soon mate.

I have yet again been the victim of a targeted hacking attack by representatives of the “urban art cartel” those heroic, freedom loving, anti surveillance, pro human rights, pro individualist, champions of the outsider, the dispossessed and downtrodden yes those guys, who this time even sent me a “greeting card”.

However this has proved to be yet another, albeit significant milestone in a catalogue of Pyrric Victories in the cartel’s campaign of monopolist domination through intimidation, censorship, hacking, threats, mismanagement, smears and stalking against myself and other artists,  webmasters and dissenters, in total diametric opposition to their carefully crafted projected personas. 

They accessed files detailing the full extent of all events, which I have methodically  accumulated and set down, and as such, would seem to indicate people’s involvement, directly and indirectly, in  the campaign against our intended gallery in Brick Lane showing visionary fine painting by oldskool London train writers.

As a result certain key players in this campaign have since taken significant steps  to distance themselves and attempted to forge alliances via a charm offensive. Others have continued the threats, re-enforcing a hundredfold  the resolve of myself and my allies.

Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.
Buddha

They also accessed material I had been preparing for LSD magazine and attempted to negate the value of its’ content ……I withdrew the piece from the magazine.

You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time.

Abraham Lincoln, (attributed) 16th president of US (1809 – 1865)

On that note I’ll hand over to the stunning intro written by the publishers, those wily wordsmiths and enlightened empaths, those pioneers of freedom in deed and thought, Wayne Anthony (Class of 88) and Sirius 23; to the current issue of the planet’s finest mag, which you will find embedded below for your reading pleasure…..

As the creaking autocracies of the Middle East and North Africa rumble, stumble and begin to tumble, we are assured by breathless commentators worldwide that the internet has finally come of age as a political weapon, and that social networking channelled through the prism of protest has heralded a glinting, nascent dawn in people power, connectivity and a new egalitarianism in which traditional hierarchies dissolve into the digital.

There can be no doubt that we are entering a new paradigm in human interaction and the chemical bonds that held 20th century conceptions of society together are slowly turning liquid in the virtual flame. Formal institutions, unions, and rigid organisational frameworks are being relentlessly subsumed by the underlying laws of physics – that a cloud of cosmic matter will inexorably and exponentially begin to self organise into an ever more complex organic system. And thus we see the chaotic platform, the medium, the base elements of the internet attract into ripples of order so sophisticated, we’d tip our hats to God for such intricate design if we weren’t already kneeling before the empowerment of the Enlightenment.

The tiniest act can start a revolution or end up valued at $25 billion with virtually no investment, no permission and no control. In the biting irony of our times, the most resolute, sophisticated and well funded control structures in the world have given birth to an open source reality where physical dominion is all but vaporised and individuals have a potential power never before witnessed in history. Geography is looking like a dated relic of a clumsy 3 dimensional age, sub cultures coalesce in a quantum vortex of cyberspace, magazines like this are possible, artists and musicians go viral and local expression suddenly has global reach.

And yet we have to be more vigilant than ever before. It is certainly true that in the recent sweeping seismic shifts in the Arab world, social networking has been used to an extraordinarily powerful end, and the internet has been used to turn heavy handed censorship and 20thcentury bullying tactics on their head. But can we really say the same for the West?

The online profile most of us hold so dear may be the triumph of the world according to advertising. We may deplore the numb acquiescence that has seen the hysterical corporatisation of our public spaces and claim to despise the capitalist constructs of aspirational advertising, but whether we like it or not, our egos have in many ways seized the day. The sudden ability to control public perceptions of our identity have encouraged us to see the world through the spectrum of advertising and present who we would like to be to the outside world far more effectively than many of us can manage in person. Of course we have always advertised in some sense – fashion alone wins that argument, but as we encounter the multi dimensional realities of information and connectivity, are we missing out on new, non linear, synapse shattering angles of perception through which to hone our interpretations of reality.

The internet was once seen as the absolute victory of the individual and the subculture over the vertical structures of ‘old’ society, and even now, the war being spoken of is the power of corporations and governments to pressure threats such as Wikileaks by terminating access to digital funding and host servers. But it is critically important never to underestimate the shifting nature of control, and the real threat that faces us all. Repression, oppression and the ham fisted simplicity of shutting down organisations and banning dissent may be losing the battle against the virtual in the old school militaristic regimes of the Middle East, but in the West, that kind of identifiable enemy is the least of our worries. Infinitely more ingenious is the new, equally virtual form of mass manipulation….unrestrained freedom.

Take one part sense of security and blend vigorously with the skin deep sincerity of advertising culture and you have an endless stream of freely shared subversive opinion that results in very little beyond self congratulation within the subculture.

We can Save the Whales, Support the Myanmar Monks, protest against local gentrification and register our disapproval of swingeing budget cuts all in 5 minutes on Facebook. We’ve made a difference, we’ve presented a gleaming hologram of our better selves and as the armchair militancy of the comments come rolling in, we can all bask in the glow of our own power without ever actually doing anything. As long as we can talk about it and let the world know where we stand – that’s us done for the day – let’s get some youtube vids on the go. There’s nothing quite like the sense of being free to render you completely ineffective.

None of this is to dismiss the awesome power of the internet and social networking – this magazine would be a hollow idea and nothing more without them. And obviously there is nothing wrong with defining your online identity through what you wish for yourself rather than who you actually are at work on a rainy Tuesday.

Support the Whales – great – not everyone can fight pitched naval battles with Greenpeace. There is no conclusion, there is no answer…just an awful lot of questions that it’s so tempting to forget we should ask.

And the overriding, fundamental aspect of this and any social and political debate is summed up by Faust’s greatest biographer, Goethe… ‘None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.’

Control is a serpentine, shape shifting force that defies categorization and often exists as a self organizing system itself – almost as a form of social gravity rather than necessarily within nefarious individuals, and it is never, ever as visceral as when we surrender to it unknowingly and voluntarily.

The might of a thousand invading armies will never have the same raw, magnetic, all conquering hypnosis as a dose of consumerism and the expression of your own personal consciousness through a colonial language you always assumed was your own.

On that note – let’s GO

Wayne Anthony (Class of 88) and Sirius 23

See my article on CENSORSHIP on page 232 and I interview anarcho punk legends the Disrupters and Prem Nick on page 380, plus there’s the usual array underground talent from around the globe…….

My unfinished Elate piece by me with help from Jenny and Drew, featuring  1962 rolling stock  fill and featuring personal additions from Envy, Time, Keen 53, Sharn.E, Prime WRH, Wish, Part Two, Fuem ACR, Carl 131, Merc, Coad 5, Fuel, Kis 42, Fued, Colt 45,  Cazbee DSS, Hit and Urge. People competed over the best spots on ‘the train’ to hit, just like in the old days, it was lots of fun…here’s the view across the river Thames from my spot…

After last years Covent Garden ‘writers bench’ reunion was so well attended and instantly became the stuff of legend, the organiser Keen 53 and Sian decided to take it to the next level and take it to a spot where we could all paint our own pieces with tunes ,a barbeque a gazebo and all the necessary bits and pieces for an amazing day out, but miles from anyone who might bother us and in a spectacular location ….

  A 7.30 start is a bit much normally but this was good.

…and a trickle of new arrivals…

…kept arriving… 

…until we had our own little mini festival going !!

There were so many oldskool writers painting and loads of legends passing through that it was hard to stay focussed on your piece for more than a few minutes until the next reunion, introduction and retelling of cherished stories …

Nearly everyone there was first/second generation (mid-late eighties) London train writer but there were some honorary additions to the roster who all helped to make it a magic day full of real golden moments that will be remembered forever by all.

In attendance were untold legends from Londons’ rich graffiti history of urban and street art, lost in the mists of time but resurrected in the sun to the live the dream once again….

the line up just went on and on as you walked…. 

  ….and seemed to go on for half a mile or so….

…. oh the joy of really not being sold anything … no stealth marketing, cynical serial media re-launches, product placement, fake posturing and definitely no toys, bandwagon jumpers, brown noses, me-me-me-ism,  investment strategies, gimmicks or hype (yawn)….

…instead we had over fifty legendary street and urban transit artists and true blood Hip Hop pioneers including Keen 53, Sharn E, Chic, Desire, Envy, Cop 205, Fuel, Prime, Colt 45, DJ Dexter, Bap, Kis42, Brave 1, Skore, Crok, Shye 131, Rave, Urge, Part 2, Crane, Time, Hit, Carl ST, Merc, Coad 5, Fume ACR, Cazbee, Doze, Ebs, Care, Owed, Kee, Fued 28, Rite, Crok,  Freehand, Urge, Ebee, Keylow, Jyer, Kem, Mef, Trans 1, Arian WD, Hert, Steam 156 and many more…..

…the art priceless @  $A-Dime-a-Dozen.00

 …the smiles and camaraderie heartfelt, contagious and refreshingly universal…

….our vocational thirst tempered by maturity and wisdom…

…the styles diverse, names earned and skills hard won…..

…and the day featuring absolute legends and cornerstones of global urban art history, some of whom were out painting for the first time in quarter of a century…

… ‘respect the architects’ I read on a certain brother’s shirt….

…never was a truer word worn…

….Elate and ‘OAP’ (old and proud) by Keen 53…

Freya, a dedication piece to her daughter,  by Sharn.E and a quick stick-up by Kis42

 Higher by Cazbee- nicked from his Flickr cheers Caz, great that you’re back out painting…

Big respect and mad love for all who reached and all those who didn’t make it but should have been there, see you next time, thanks a million to Tony and Sian for organising everything and hooking up so many legends in one amazing spot…

Praise be to the weather fairy for the sunshine, was soooo better than last years hailstone thunderstorm washout…. ta for listening gal you dun good dis time. Respect lol

For two weeks we relished the bliss of perfect English midsummer in the most mystical part of the country, Glastonbury, where ley lines meet and legends were born, in The Vale of Avalon, the ancient mythic gateway to the heathen goddess; a place of pilgrimage for millennia.

I was onsite with the team of militant revolutionary dreamers and genius engineers known as Arcadia, easily the best sound system around and quite possibly the greatest show on earth.

Their meticulous attention to detail and fantastic organisation extends to the busy site canteen who kept me fed and watered with an ever-changing array of fresh veggie delights and herbal teas….

I painted anarcho punk slogans since 82 then graffiti at the birth of UK hip hop in 84, onto London’s tube system in 86 through the golden age of train graffiti moving to acid house backdrops in 89. The nineties and new millenium saw me painting at traveller squat parties and Reclaim the Streets protest raves. Throughout the quiet renaissance of classical, surreal and visionary oil painting I was at the easel and fused my skills back with graffiti in Shoreditch in 2009 then onto MuTate Britain with the Mutoid Waste Company in Ladbroke Grove under the Westway…

Now in 2010 I feel glad to have played a small part by painting for the next underground zeitgeist, one which takes influence and energy from all those phenomenon and more, but boldly maps out a new frontier that is purely its’ own…ARCADIA.

Like all underground revolutionary movements the gold rush is for the inner treasure. The ultimate reward is the accomplishment of the dream and the actualisation of the idea. At Glastonbury 2010 Arcadia surpassed all expectations and reached dizzying new heights of inspiration, engineering, teamwork, sculpture, music, lighting, pyrotechnics, performance art and energy as this film shows….

The Build

When we arrived onsite the Afterburner stage was still in its early stages, the ‘legs’ of the spider are actually scrap from customs xray machines that used to scan containers and lorries. Pure genius…

The core of the beast is expertly manoevered into place…

…and it shows its’ face.

In keeping with Arcadia’s militant branding and apocalyptic atmosphere I did the line-up board using their trademark stencil lettering, and carefully distressed the fragments of plane for that ‘hauled out of the swamp 5 years after the crash’ look….

…with lots of help from capable hands.

The entrance arch is a couple of modified plane wings, possibly from a glider, it’d been rubbed down to the bare aluminium so to keep the burnished metal intact on the ‘pipes’ I used Belton’s amazing transparent black spray paint to get the relief modelling without losing the wonderful texture which gleamed from underneath as the sun caught the metal…The design was finalised between myself and Pip Rush and based on carvings on an ancient Aztec  temple….

Here’s a video of the build in progress.

The line-up boards go up….

I then cut back over the black with Belton’s burner chrome to get a contrast against the aluminium and carefully painted the pop rivets and ‘crazy paving’ seams by hand.

Pip was keen to use my ‘Circuit Splat’ style so I modified it to pure abstraction with a vivid tribal background on some pieces of aeroplane scrap to hang behind the massive ‘Arc Bar’, the sun was pounding down…

After painting ‘til twilight the lights go on on the new Afterburner for the very first time and the eerie entity blinks into life.

Next day the crew finish building ‘stage left’ so I can start the piece.

Across the field the punk tent takes shape

After being branded with the Arcadia logo by their prop maker and effects guy, Simon, he begins work on the dirty-metal-effect background for my piece….

…and I start blocking in the arrows. Some respectful inspiration drawn from amigo Keen One here, but in 3 dimensions and distressed with a strong Elate/Arcadia twist….

….and lots of rivets, seams, gleams, glints and the Arcadia logo in the centre….

….everyone seemed to really like this.

Here the graffiti began to fuse with scrap art by Simon and Sam…

Finally after sweat and dedication, blisters, sprains and minor sunstroke Arcadia opened on Thursday 24th June 2010 to the public ….

  …who went nuts….while many crew take the opportunity to sleep until rested before re-emerging to enjoy the weekend.

My art at the Arcadia Arc Bar ‘scuse the poor shots

You could feel the heat on your face from the other side of the field. Experience Arcadia, they’re doing amazing things.

I’ll let the Lords of Lightning sign off this post as only they know how.

All pictures of Arcadia build by me and Jenny apart from a few select shots of Afterburner show and Glastonbury used  with permission Creative Commons and taken by Luke Blackmore, lusciousblopster, mark-vauxhall, medalliamagpie, Tangentical, fussy onion, Al Green midlander123 and bfirsh; thanks to all.

Massive thanks to Pip and Bertie and all Arcadia crew.

Now he’s back 20 years later, along with oldskool steel writers Fuel, Skore, Mear, Crok, Don myself and a few of London’s more new skool to take the vibe back to the raw, enabling a potent and complementary mix of the hardcore underground vibes and tribes….

and back inside for another shot of me and Vibes….

……and onto the wild, diverse art within, here’s Jimmy South of War Boutique

Lyle Doghead, LRRY and friend

Elate, Obey

Anarchist Crockery by Carrie Reichart

In Dog We Trust by Jolly Good, made with real dollar bills…

  Vera Bong

Dotmaster

The toilets…

New Arrivals…

What I have posted is a fraction of what is there, you really have to get down to this 12,000 foot space and experience the most revolutionary art happening London, probably even the world has ever seen.

The future is unwritten!!!

The Mutate Britain shop is now online check it here!!!!

Families are welcome to this multisensory extravaganza!.

Full dates and opening times below. We look forwarding to seeing you!

Opening times:

Opens December 4th to December 20th – FRI / SAT / SUN

Fri – 2pm -10pm
Sat-1pm – 10pm
Sun – 12pm-9pm

We are also open 2 Wednesdays for the Portobello Winter Festival on the 9th & 16th December – 6pm -10pm

FRI & SAT (NO ENTRY AFTER 9PM)

SUN (NO ENTRY AFTER 8PM)

£2 before 6pm / £3 there after’

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