Style Wars documents grit, old-school graffiti

Paul Babin Guest Writer

The Friends of the Francis Lehman Loeb Art Center will screen Tony Silver’s documentary Style Wars on Thursday, April 6, a significant improvement over last week’s bloated spectacular The Agony and the Ecstasy. Style Wars is a documentary on the graffiti problem that plagued (or redefined, depending on who you ask) New York City’s subways throughout the late 1970s and early 1980s. The film simultaneously projects a certain admiration towards the young artists who proudly displayed their false names and obscure symbols on city property, while remaining surprisingly neutral to the other characters in this colorful story.

Mayor Ed Koch, for example, who made the fight against graffiti artists a city-wide affair with a series of public service announcements and stiffer penalties, is not portrayed as stodgy or vindictive. As interviews with disgruntled subway riders reveal, his frustrations are spawned by public concern. The cause of such behavior is the real issue; a phenomenon Koch attributes to crumbling morals. But are such displays purely motivated by a feeling of disgust towards the establishment? Silver doesn’t pretend to know the answer, but his questioning is the film’s greatest strength.

If the movement’s beginnings are any indication, the entire graffiti art form is a mere outcry for public recognition. A kid named “Taki” who lived on 183rd street in Washington Heights became a national celebrity in 1970 when he scribbled his now famous “TAKI 183” in black paint throughout subway stations and subway cars. “As soon as everyone understood that ‘TAKI’ was a name, they realized that Taki was famous,” says Silver in a voiceover.

If Style Wars were content to portray the community of copycats inspired by TAKI as mere wannabes desperate for fame, the film’s viewpoint would be simplistically clear. But its blatant admiration for the creativity and passion of such artists as “Seen”—probably the best of all the subway artists—leaves the film’s personal motivations understated.

Artists like “Seen” were able to build a passion for graffiti, it seems, without letting the shortcomings—and illegality—of the craft get in the way. To paint graffiti is to engage in a process, from envisioning the basic design on paper, to applying rigid rough outlines prior to adding color. Considering the average lifespan of most subway art is measured in months, this shows remarkable passion for a group of supposed vandals. One artist’s explanation of the popularity of graffiti art among teenagers is especially telling: “I just couldn’t see an adult putting that much energy into something that isn’t gonna pay and could possibly get them arrested.”

Style Wars is not without its flaws. Since it runs a mere 70 minutes, it doesn’t have time to fully flesh out its characters to the point where we actually remember their names. And while many praise the film as prophetic in its assessment of the importance of hip-hop and break dancing, I found both movements only marginally explored. Still, the scenes centered on the artistic process are remarkably engrossing. Toward the film’s end, when it is revealed that works of graffiti artists are being featured in a New York museum, I couldn’t help but grin. Silver and his film may not leave such artists blameless for their illegal desecrations, but they do commemorate their unique vision.