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.

Here’s a trailer for a major new documentary coming out soon about Street Art and graffiti in Brick Lane, looks to be interesting, featuring a broad array of artists.

I will be talking about lots of different stuff, providing an alternative point of view and doing some painting too…..a certain old school King of London train pieces will be making a unique appearance and ranting also, and will feature his current canvases which are actual portals to other realms, as the best art often is, so really don’t miss this one…..

The people behind it are Six Oranges who usually make films about human rights issues and have just released a wonderful documentary called ‘Tres Tristes Tigres’  (Three Sad Tigers) about poor Bangladeshi construction workers who get ripped off, which is absolutely excellent, if heartbreaking. I’m lucky enough to have a preview copy, its doing the rounds of the festivals at the moment and has already been nominated for a Goya award (the Spanish Oscars) good luck guys.It’s also been awarded the Best Short Documentary at the VII Certamen Documental e Video Secuencia Cero (Vigo, Spain).

It’s out on DVD you can purchase yours an find out more  at the Tres Triestes Tigres website.

The press pack is here

“Construction boom in Middle East brought 832,000 workers from Bangladesh. The labor abuse and illegal contracting, accepted by Bangladeshi government with tolerance of International Labor Organization, has brought thousands of broken families and hopes of workers destroyed for good.”

You can see the trailer here

Brick Lane in Art: The other side from Shafiur Rahman on Vimeo.

This is a portrait of a street and an area – as seen by artists, particularly street artists, and others who live and work or even just visit here. I wanted to shoot a social documentary which would frame the street, its life, and the complex web in which it operates. I wanted to hear the area’s "official" stories. And of course the other side of those stories.

Thanks to all the artists. For your participation and most importantly for your art.

…….so I only just found out that my outline for my Elate tumbling stone blockbuster on Brick Lane got published in the brilliant ‘London Blackbook ‘, wahey!

London Blackbook features “194 pages jam packed full of sketches, outlines and characters from 200 of London’s most diverse and influentual graffiti artists from the last 3 decades.”  shucks,  I’m very honoured!

You can get your copy from UK graff central HQ Chrome and Black or here.

RJ Rushmore from international Street Art blog  Vandalog blogged this piece (still live) as  “my all time favorite piece of graffiti or street art on Brick Lane”   …. crikey!!! High praise indeed considering the countless works by  superstar street artists  that preceded it.

I’m humbled for my original drawing to get published in amongst the work of the real legends, pioneers and heroes of the London graffiti scene!! Cheers Blackbook people!

Due to interference and a campaign of  intimidation, (related in my previous post) it has not seen the light of day.

I have also encountered other adverse reactions that I have not recorded here.

My intentions were not to make a pot of cash, (though a humble living would have been nice for myself and the other artists).

Instead my dreams were of an aesthetic aspiration, giving exposure to ignored, untrained visionaries and first generation London graffiti pioneers from the roots of our rich urban culture; exploring typography, symbolism, social commentary and archetypes, free from the restrictions of graffiti but freed by it’s energy to explore new dimensions.

I have made a reluctant decision to cancel forthcoming events.

I apologise to those who were to be involved in this project, including artists who have been preparing work and individuals and agencies I had engaged to help. I find it hard to believe that we have faced this level of opposition to something so authentic, and of such interest but this has unfortunately been the case.

……………….

“For better it is to do mighty things, to dream of glorious triumph, even though checked by defeats, than to take part with those poor souls who neither do much, nor suffer much because they live in the grey twilight that knows neither victory or defeat.”

Theodore Roosevelt- January 30, 1882 – April 12, 1945

It is with this wisdom in mind and in a spirit of peace that I relate this news.

Elate/ Jon

………………………………………………..

I haven’t posted on my blog for a few months, here’s why.

I have been subject to a campaign of intimidation and aggression after announcing plans to open a gallery at Brick Lane and painting legal graffiti on prized spots. Now I realise I have unwittingly been put in an unthinkable situation.

I would be happy to engage in healthy competition of innovation, skills, banter and wit, but whoever is opposed to my plans chose the way of the bully. Now the situation has got so bad that I am going public with the information.

Let’s start at the beginning…..I painted anti-war slogans and punk logos since ‘82, then in the New York style from ‘84.

Being from a working class background I left school aged 16 in ‘86. I didn’t have the privilege of an art education so worked as a messenger boy in the City of London just as the Underground railway was overrun with graffiti for the first time.

My passion for graffiti got me fired from my round in early ‘87 and I continued writing on trains through London’s graffiti heyday until 1989 when I stopped illegal work and taught myself to paint classically in oil, continuing to paint graffiti legally.

When Banksy and others recently enabled vandalism to be accepted as an art form, and visionary painting by untrained outsiders was finally acknowledged, I thought my time for recognition was here. My calculation didn’t take into account the carefully controlled hierarchy that exists in the London scene.

I had no intent to subvert anyone’s status and only wished to embrace diversity in all its forms and participate in the community. So after being completely ignored by the major players in the ‘Street Art’ establishment I decided to go it alone in 2009 and curate my own space in a Georgian warehouse at the top of Brick Lane, the hub of the art community, specialising in work by oldskool graffiti writers and intuitive visionaries.

I told many in the neighbourhood about my plans. This news was met with a sign posted on my wall at the beginning of August 09 “Art Gallery Not Needed- London…Breathe/Stretch/Relax/Perforate” and signed ‘Sinom de Plume’

Sinom de Plume is a corruption of the French ‘Nom de Plume’ meaning Pen Name or literary double, a fake name adopted by an author.

“Breathe/Stretch/Relax/Perforate” is a corruption of the Yoga instruction ‘Breathe/Stretch/Relax/Rejuvenate’. In that simple substitution of one word for another the author turns an instruction in transcendence, humanity and hope into a tool of censorship, oppression and threat.

I was shocked that anyone could feel such a way against me for doing something so creative and positive but was even more determined to continue with my plans.

By late September 2009 I began to paint with the infamous and upcoming MuTate Britain Collective who embraced my art and long history in the scene , welcomed me with open arms, gave me enormous walls to paint and hung my work in some of the best spots in their ‘One Foot in the Grove’ show under the Westway in Ladbroke Grove. I was asked to invite some oldskool legends from London’s ‘Golden Age’ to come and paint their perimeter wall, which was delivered in fine style.

It’s all detailed on the previous posts on my blog. I felt delighted to be recognised at last. As the MuTate Britain extravaganza was going on in Portobello Road, West London, building work was being done on our proposed gallery in Shoreditch, indicating to people, I presume, that we had ignored the warning notice.

The work was finished in late 2009 and myself and my girlfriend went for a well deserved holiday over Christmas. As soon as we got back in late December, refreshed, invigorated and excited about the year ahead, the real intimidation started.

I began to notice an old car decked out in tinsel and driven by a very large man hanging around our building.

One quiet evening, the 2^nd January 2010, I was putting out the rubbish in the bin on the street corner; his car, which had been waiting in a side road, performed a reverse handbrake turn at high speed and then drove straight at me down the dark and empty street at full speed with hazard lights flashing. He screeched to a halt inches from my feet,  I thought I was going to get run over and managed to stumble out of his path to my gates and get in, terrified and shaking as he sat parked outside the gates.

At this point I knew something was seriously wrong.

I needed a drink and had nothing in the building so after 20 minutes left cautiously for the nearest pub after checking out of the window that he had gone. As I was drinking my pint and to my horror, the driver of the car walked up to the window, stared at me then turned on and disappeared into the night. I got home and called the police who said it was a rare and exceptional incident and gave me a crime number.

Two mornings later I awoke and looked out of the window, the barbed wire preventing access to our building had been pulled aside and the grey slate tiles leading to our windows were broken as if they had been walked across, even the roofing felt was ripped. The damage was verified as new by the caretaker so I called the police who attended and registered it as an attempted burglary.

Three weeks after it had been repaired, the barbed wire was ripped aside yet again, with fresh marks on the tiles.

On Sunday 7th March 2010 I found that my computer had been hacked. I consulted my IT guy who told me that it was an attack by professional hackers. They had installed a ‘Trojan’ and ‘key loggers’ (devices which record every stroke of the keypad) set up multiple user accounts with full privileges including ‘impersonate user privilege’ ‘’modify firmware privilege’ among countless other stuff including a ‘tunnelling proxy’ and encrypted zones, things I knew nothing about and had hardly even heard of.

They have ignored multiple opportunities to steal money from paypal accounts, preferring to access my emails.

This was repeatedly listed in my  PC’s ‘Events Log’ as Outlook Events-

‘”C:Users\Me\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Outlook\Outlook.pst The store was last opened on a different machine”

…but I have only ever accessed my mail from my own PC; I am convinced this carefully targeted hacking is linked to the previous incidents. Any hacker who installs key loggers then ignores constant access to cash would probably be after something else,as is indicated in my events log.

They have also had access to…

• My writing and rants, directed at an art scene which ignore myself and countless talented others while celebrating ‘instant artists’ and hype.
• My personal emails to my girlfriend full of pet names, secrets of our personal life and ‘coochie coo’ sweetness.
• My gallery plans, manifesto, logos, and communications with artists I was planning to show when we opened; and confidential website information.
• Personal private photos of my family
• Shots from my girlfriend’s modelling portfolio.
• Intimate photos of myself and my girlfriend.
• My broad collection of ‘adult movies’ of multiple genres; classic hardcore, roleplay, lesbian, ‘Barely Legal’ and JAV (Japanese Adult Video) always verifiably legal and taken from carefully moderated sites.
• My archive of graffiti and art photos and scans of my sketches of future works.
• Intimate details of my illnesses, medications and medical conditions.
• Details of my history of substance misuse, now seven years clean.
• Highly personal emails to family members in times of illness, joy, distress and even argument.
• The vast variety of websites I read when trying to understand political and religious points of view from all ends of the spectrum when researching topics current in the media.
• My unpublished writing analysing the meanings behind mine and others’ work, written in the context of the history of art and civilisation.

After discovering and eventually putting a stop to the attack by shutting off my system I left the building next morning and was followed yet again, this time onto a train.

I cannot see what I could possibly have done to warrant this attention and threat; I am a good, kind and honest man who has done no-one any wrong, have tirelessly helped others throughout my life and have countless people who will happily vouch for my character and personality.

All I have done is paint legal walls with the owners’ permission according to the rules of graffiti, make a few impassioned comments about art on the web, and try to open a gallery in East London that gives a platform for highly talented and innovative  artists excluded by the establishment.

I ask nothing except to be allowed to live my life in peace. I am reconsidering my plans to open the gallery in the face of these experiences. It seems I have ‘ruffled feathers’ for whatever reason.

I send out this statement to raise awareness so that people know what is going on. I re-entered the scene full of optimism ideas, and happiness which I have shared with all who let me participate. I thought things would be very different to this.

Thanks to all who enjoy my art, have shared good times and given me support and encouragement. I hope my next communication will be on a happier note.

Elate / Jon

18^th March 2010

Additional note: Comments accusing me of being Schizophrenic and imagining the whole thing have already appeared on a well known graffiti site, in an obvious attempt to discredit me.

This one is on Brick Lane, East London, at number 194, Bar 2012.

Before

After

They are working their way around from Sclater Street to Bacon Street  buffing everything. Anyone painting on the remaining space is told to stop immediately and move on or be arrested.

I will be posting a memorial superpost featuring the best and the worst moments of this fantastic free space in the coming days.

It will be sorely missed by all and no doubt replaced with a mess of tags and throw-ups.

Elate, Fuel

This one was done on Thursday on Sclater Street, near Brick Lane, London E1, and was the first collaboration between myself and Tizer,who did the character and background, we were both happy with the end results.

There’s also a Envy piece by Envy,Time and Fued and Wisher. A massive shout to Jim Wilson who filmed everything in HD, also to Jenny, Sarah, Fued, Time, Envy, Wish, Fuel, Hit, Trix, Inkfetish and all who passed through.