Here is one more photograph of Lisbon graffiti, this one from a wall next to a sidewalk in the lower Alfama neighborhood. The colors and patterns are so vivid that you might not even notice the doorway in the wall behind the paint. The colors of this street anrt are were perhaps the most intense that I recall seeing.
Continue reading Lisbon Graffiti #1
One thing that appeals to me about street art (and not everything about it always does!) is how it “lives” where it was made. It is created by people using a variety of media: paint, ink, paper, glue, you name it. They leave it behind on its own where it deteriorates, may be defaced, gets added to, and eventually is covered by someone else’s creation. Someone creates it, but the eventual effect is often out of their hands.
This sign, or what remained of it, was taped to a steel roll-up door along a Brussels street. The “NOW’ remains emphatic in all-upper-case and red, but what it was that was so timely is a mystery since the upper portion has been ripped. A closer look reveals a few more details that may (or may not) provide some clues.
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G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” (Heyday Books) is available directly from him. Blog | Bluesky | Mastodon | Substack Notes | Flickr | Email
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This is a small section of a wall in Brussels, Belgium. We passed it while out on a very long (almost all day) walk through the city. I’m fascinated by walls like this one, where layers of personal messages and markings have built up over time, juxtaposed in sometimes-surprising ways to produce a kind of found art.
These things often consist of some combination of actual “art” (often small, personal drawings), bits of text including tags and quotes, random smears of paint, remnants of paper fliers in the process of weathering and falling off. They become short-term time capsules as layers build up, with the newest material on top and the oldest visible through the newer materials in places.
Leave a comment or question using the form. (If you are reading this on the home page, click the article title to see the full article and the comment form.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” (Heyday Books) is available directly from him. Blog | Bluesky | Mastodon | Substack Notes | Flickr | Email
All media © Copyright G Dan Mitchell and others.
My recollection is that I made this photograph on the last long day of our May walk in Portugal’s Douro Valley region. We walked out of the town of Alijo on a gray and damp day and into the surrounding vineyard-filled countryside. This door is on the side of an old stone building in one of those vineyards, and I assume that its purpose is related to wine growing in some way.
Looking back at my raw files of this subject, I realized that they embodied a basic rule of photography — try to get closer! My first photograph was of the whole building and the surrounding landscape. Then I moved in and tried to frame the full building by itself. Finally I walked even closer and found a couple of compositions featuring this weathered blue door.
An addendum: It turns out that Patricia Emerson Mitchell (https://patriciaemersonmitchell.com) photographed me as I positioned myself to make this photo!
Leave a comment or question using the form. (If you are reading this on the home page, click the article title to see the full article and the comment form.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” (Heyday Books) is available directly from him. Blog | Bluesky | Mastodon | Substack Notes | Flickr | Email
All media © Copyright G Dan Mitchell and others.