Brazilian Street Art: More Art, Less Street?

São Paulo’s street artists craft their images during the wee hours of the night; under bridges and inside tunnels, they leave colorful murals in the gray metropolis. But like most things hip and underground, street art has broken though to the fine art world. As these rebel artists spray paint the walls of trendy galleries after lunchtime, can they really take their art out of the streets, yet still keep the streets in their art? While I can’t help but think the world of fine art has stolen a part of the authenticity of Brazilian street art, the practitioners who were once only identifiable by their strokes, shapes, and colors are now achieving their rightfully deserved fame.

The phenomenon of Brazilian street art is gaining global exposure at lightning speed—in part, because the mere utterance of the word “Brazil” triggers a cultish fascination, so much so that the United States imports nearly everything Brazil-branded, from Havaianas to Victoria’s Secret models. It was only a matter of time until contemporary art galleries in Manhattan and San Francisco brought Brazilian street art into their white-walled cubes. Street art, unlike the widely interchangeable term graffiti, encompasses the expansion and sophistication of mediums artists use to make their marks on urban spaces. Spray painting is the most traditional form to the untrained eye, but stencil, site-specific installation, poster, collage, mixed media, and even performance all fall under this broad umbrella. Like sparkly Carnaval, Brazilian street art has become yet another attraction among gringos, and it only appears to be growing in popularity.

Brazilian street art’s richness and complexity comes from the cultural diversity and mixture of its origins. Many Brazilian artists cite the 1970s hip-hop emergence in New York City—the birthplace of graffiti—as their springboard into modern urban self-expression. However, Maléna Seldin, a representative of Jonathan LeVine Gallery in Manhattan that exhibited ”Ruas de São Paulo: A Survey of Brazilian Street Art” last year, explains that, “Brazil already had a solid tradition of street art dating back to the 1960s with the presence of ‘pichação’ in São Paulo.” Pichação developed as a means of protesting political messages using public space, particularly during Brazil’s dictatorship. Spray-painted slogans combating corrupt city politics were the “art” of the era. Now pichação is considered less an art form and more an activity in which rebel youth compete by spray painting their pseudonyms in hard-to-reach spots. São Paulo’s Choque Cultural Gallery representative, Eduardo Saretta, cites post-pichação but pre-hip-hop pioneers, “Alex Vallauri and Carlos Matuck who were known for stenciling,” as Brazilian influences. Although they painted the streets, “they were white middle-class college students who participated in São Paulo’s 18th Biennal,” proving that the roots of Brazilian street art come from divergent backgrounds. 

Last year, the press praised the Jonathan LeVine Gallery’s Brazilian street art finds, marketing urban self-expression as the new avant-garde artwork for your living room. The niche aesthetic soon hit a crowd of art connoisseurs and mainstream celebrities. Pop star Christina Aguilera purchased a canvas by the Paulistano of Japanese ancestry, Hamilton Yokota, who goes by the pseudonym Titi Freak. The 34-year-old, whose talent first manifested itself on the walls of his childhood home as a teenager, has now created artwork for big brand names like Adidas, Nike, and Ecko. While Titi Freak draws from his Eastern and Western influences, his colleagues Boleta, Fefê, Highraff, Kboco, Onesto, Speto, and Zezão are equally distinctive and innovative.

Onesto, one of 72 signatures used by acclaimed artist Alex Hornest, often paints playful-looking characters portraying issues of social injustice and psychological suffering. “I never imagined myself in galleries and museums painting graffiti,” he says humbly. “I’ve always believed that graffiti works really well on the streets but never in closed spaces.” Even with six dozen pseudonyms, Hornest still feels the fine arts world is far too estranged from São Paulo’s streets—so much so that he keeps it professional, “for galleries and museums I don’t use the name Onesto, just Alex Hornest.” While he utilizes his distinguishing graffiti techniques in the studio, he says he is “fully conscious that I am not making graffiti. I could paint with a brush and the result would be the same, and I’m certain that no one would call it graffiti.” And although he keeps the streets and galleries separated, the recognition he has received is, in its own way, yet another outlet for creative growth and expression.

As artwork in public urban areas begins to redefine the contemporary scene, it seems to corrupt the nature of street art. However, Maléna from Jonathan LeVine Gallery believes that the closed space can bring artistic opportunities. She admits, “Some artists who have crossed over into gallery work leave their street art background behind, but many continue to do both.” Artistic evolution is achieved in the studio because they will be, “building additional layers and experimenting with new techniques which they might not necessarily have the time or resources for when getting up on the streets.” As street art receives more recognition, it also impacts change on its original environment. Eduardo from Choque Cultural Gallery notes that in São Paulo, “the government has areas assigned for graffiti, but the thing is that subversion is at the root of graffiti.” While the gallery versus street debate continues, another issue is that the form is evolving to a point where its rebel reputation has ceased to precede itself. Will Brazilian street art eventually become another corny mural outside of my local Trader Joe’s?

While I find myself feeling like an overprotective mother, the artists have an easier time going with the flow. Hornest, who has felt the impact of his medium transitioning, respects that, “If the graffiti produced in Brazil today is seen as art that is revolutionizing the contemporary scene, it is merely because we are showing the world that our country has the best and the worst. We show what we’ve overcome, what we feel, and what we think is truth.” Whether in a gallery or on dirty concrete, Hornest proclaims that “everything we paint is here for everyone who wants to see it, all you have to do is open your eyes and not allow yourself to be manipulated or influenced.” Maybe it’s time I took his advice.