seriously, i’ve been photographing The Good Bike project for over a year now! And examples are still popping up all over the city. This pink one was on queen street east.
i wonder if this is doubling as a ‘ghost bike’ because it begs the viewer to remember someone who has passed.
the stickers of dedicated have worn off of this one … “For…we’ll” is all you get now.
check out my Good Bike project category for more examples.
you can see the good bike project still soldiering on in the background.
i’ve noticed this photographic project before (ugh too lazy to link it up, just trust me). basically, photographs are taken of people in specific places, the photos are printed, then the people go back to the same location and have a photo taken of them with the original photo. IT’S SO META, IT MAKES MY HEAD EXPLODE. i like the idea, but some people feel like wheatpasting these all over isn’t the best way to garner street cred.
whatever, new and interesting ideas should be embraced. what do you think?
found this on augusta avenue in kensington market.
handsome & gorgeous
i had previously found one of these “handsome & gorgeous” stencils in kensington market back in august
It is 5:01am.
I got out of bed at 3:30am, could not sleep, ate too late.
The other day I was drifting up the main to the Mile End and then back to the Plateau ( cuz I’m dat cool ) and I spotted Stikki Peaches work all over. Even as far as on Chabanel in the garment factory hood.
I think Stikki Peaches might be going all city soon.
So, today I woke up and I could not sleep so I decided to look for Stikki Peaches ( as I type this I hear something crawling in the ceiling, I think it might be a giant rat ) on the webz and I found your online memory data silo.
I lived in Toronto for a while and also Vancouver but most of my life I lived in MTL. I’m originally from central america, Guatemala.
Where am I going with this? Oh yea.
So, when I lived in Toronto and Vancouver I loved to see who was going up on what wall, who was throwing a tag here and there. Back then SPUD, JAFAR and a few others had gone all city but my favorite became TRIK.
TRIK here TRIK there TRIK en haut TRIK en bas TRIK to the left TRIK to the right TRIK on the rails TRIK in the toilets TRIK.
You get the idea.
Ok, so the proliferation of locations for a writer is not uncommon in the game, but here is why he became my favorite.
I had to go back to Guatemala due to a death in the family.
I had not been there in 20 years and there was a cultural shock.
I felt out of place, in the home land, wow. I missed poutine, I missed the Wheat Sheaf’ giant moose and I missed the west coast rain. (sheesh, this is starting to sound like the vinyl cafe. Ok I like the vinyl cafe)
One night as I walked up and down the little cobble stone covered streets of Antigua, something caught my eye as I passed a street light post.
There it was, written in a fine tip blue sharpie, TRIK.
I smiled, je me suis dit ” tout est en ordre et la vie continue”
It is now 5:35am.
Thank you for your time and thank you for your blog Christine.“
-Methuselah (not his real name)
Il n’y a pas de quoi, mon chum.
fanks for the past-midnight-musings. glad you appreciate! next time i return to montreal, we can wander with a sharpie.
TIFF is coming up, and I’ve been invited to so many advanced press screenings that I’m debating whether or not I should throw myself face-first into the fest like I did last year. Last year was amazing, I reviewed the festival for FOUR different media outlets, including the CBC. I met some amazing people in the industry, attended some hoity-toity parties, saw a record-breaking 35 films (including The King’s Speech, where I knew from the press screening that it would win the Oscar), and feasted on the visual stimuli flashing through a darkened cinema. Static flicking off the beams of light.
So why the debate?
Mama’s got a book to write.
* * *
sneak with me as i disappear into the back alleys. keep your feet pedaling, the bike leaves no footprint. the night will swallow us like a python, opening its mouth, and then holding its breath.
all the kids in the ghetto call me Don chris estima.
gauzed in red, the colour tearing through my flesh, this painted city belongs to me.
we discover art.
and you will know i was once here
by the looks thrown over my shoulder.
Rob introduced me to Poser, who does these smooth rabbits all over town. Now you won’t be able to walk around without noticing them. I love how the rabbits are holding spraypaint cans whilst almost saying “Eyyyyhhhh, sup gurrrrrl.”
that single BlogTO tweet sent my blog traffic batshit crazy through the roof, kiboshing all previous records. fanks hombres!
hello new munchkin readers! enjoy my neurotic blogjaculation.
relax, i’m hilarious.
now shut up and show me your tweets.
rob takes a decent graffiti snap.
rob and i snuck around the back alleys for about four hours, well past midnight. darkness creeping in on secrets.
first obvious target: graffiti alley, then up the ossington alleys, then through kensington market. i think our next destination should be the rail path which runs through the junction. i know there’s some amazing shit there, my camera is gagging for it.
does anybody else think this looks like a concentration camp?
zejko? that sounds yugoslavian . . . maybe serbian or croatian or bosnian. i wonder who this guy is.
political figure? martyr? writer? philosopher? just some dude?
andy warhol just rolled his eyes.
ha, i love this little gas-can fucker.
oh hello mr elliott. we meet again.
i’m surprised to still see some of the Andrew posters around, they’re quite old (in terms of street art shelf life), so this was a rare find. however, considering the way Andrew died, tagging the poster with a mouthful of blood and a speech bubble with “liberal lies” is rather upsetting.
what kind of tagger writes “liberal lies” anyway? i’m sorry, is Andrew’s tragic story offensive to your conservative graffiti ethos? fuck off with that shit.
my last post detailed some Tokyo tags, and now we know who he is. Rob found him on facebook, so we have a face with a (fake)name now. Sup guy.
i also recently blogged about the posters and stickers that have gone up around queen and spadina, commemorating the kettling and brutality that occurred last year during the G20 summit. the stickers say “our civil rights were lost here.” the posters show sombre photos of the attrocities done against peaceful toronto civilians.
the “tokyo” is almost gone. i wish rob ford was rubbing away too.
this headless frowner reminds me of our unhappy hipster run-in while rob and i took a break at 416 Snack Bar. some loud hipsters with massive, square, black-framed specs, and nostrils brimming with white coke, shouted at me from across the table to smile.
i turned into them and gave a fatal grimmace.
coked-up hipster goes, “that’s the worst smile i’ve ever seen. why won’t you smile for me?”
to which i leaned in and coo’d, “I’m not going to be your monkey.”
and at that, his balls crawled back up inside his body.
from what i can gather here, someone stenciled “supreme” then someone with a spray can tagged it into “supremely stupid” but they spelled “stupid” wrong…. studpid? stucpid?
this freaked the shit out of me, because in the darkness of the alley, you couldn’t see all those details. you could see a bit of the face. my flash revealed the bleeding ghost.
some daytime shots from the back alleys in parkdale.
is that elvis presley or chris cornell?
when horses are this lame, they shoot ‘em.
hi c-saw, i will respond to that question with this.
good call, speaking of bikes …
i’ve got more THE GOOD BIKE finds!
a basket filled with a potted plant, untouched!
AND it’s bolted to the ground. you ain’t stealing this, fuckfaces.
the photo of me at the top of this post is of me taking this photo….
wow, that’s so meta.
and the moral is: the easiest way to make guys lose their shit is to have yours together
if you’ve been keeping your eyes open in toronto-the-good, you’ve probably noticed a few fluorescent bikes here and there. they’re part of an art project launched by some OCAD’ers, where they find abandoned bikes that are still locked up, and beautify them with different fluorescent colours, sometimes they even put a potted plant in the basket. anyhoo, i haven’t been able to pop a wheelie in this city without knocking over one of these bikes, they’re everywhere! i am so in love with the idea, as you can see from the above collage that i made which indicates each location i’ve found a bike so far. keep your eyes open, tdot.
to find out more about this project, visit the artists’ tumblr here.
text messages from august 4th
mr k: YOU make me want to do better things
me: that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me
mr k: it’s just you tell me about what you’ve done and i see this insane potential to do more and i think “holy crap man.. this girl is amazingly talented and has done so much!” it’s so awesome and inspiring….. to me you’re muse material because you create the drive for self improvement. Everything you’ve told me points that way. Whenever you tell me about how guys walk all over you, i actually think why?! someone like this is so worthwhile.
vicki vanilla sky
i am a bumble bee.
that’s what mr moore said about me the other day after we had dinner together at disgraceland. i’d never tried their vegan-friendly menu before. i like places that are west of ossington. the wester, the better. omg gurrrrrrrl you are soo west.
i wore a yellow top, black skort (remember skorts!), my yellow tube flops, and that ol’ buttercup yellow flower in my hair that i’ve been wearing since 2005… hence the bumble bee. my friend teresa describes that pill you have to take when you have a UTI as “the bumble bee pill” because it’s black and yellow as well.
i like it when things are named after flying killers.
someone in Kensington Market knows how to bang out the time-sensitive street art without flinching.
crying a gold tear.
i always thought winehouse would just keith richards her way through life. i was living in london when her second album back to black blew up, and she was in daily rags literally daily. remember when her and blake had that huge fight, and emerged on the street after the battle. he had massive nail scratches on his neck which he unsuccessfully tried to cover with a douchey scarf. …and she used to love traipsing around in those ballet slippers, which were bloodied now because she had injected the crack cocaine IN BETWEEN HER TOES.
living in london at that time, listening to her music as i ran through Southwark and Bermondsey, fisting Borough Market, kicking Tower Bridge, and owning the Elephant and Castle circus, amy is inextricably linked to that period in time. the pubs and punters screamed her songs, spilling out into the streets. her music got me through a horrible break-up at the time. made riding the DLR somewhat bearable.
amy, you should have been stronger than me.
on the corner of bloor and st. george
there’s only ONE law when it comes to graffiti and street art… you don’t fucking tag or go over someone else’s work. graffiti is all about ego, really. it’s about getting a kind of infamy for your art… when someone fucking tags your art, it’s the biggest form of disrespect.
hey “MER” don’t fucking disrespect. get your fucking tag off of the eyes.
shall we turn this into a new conga line, lisa?
i don’t think i could handle a constant state of pleasure until forever.
but i welcome the challenge.
* * *
i’ve blogged about Deadboy lots of times before, and he let me know recently that he’s hit the streets again. he’s launched an attack on the streets, and his provocative wheatpastes are in some of the best locations in the city. on top of that, they are powerful, they ask questions, they make you feel something.
here’s a cross-section of some of his work, with their locations. i invite you all to go on a scavenger hunt and find these pieces of art for yourself.
that’s the great thing about street art… it’s livable and democratic. you don’t need to be a glittering asshole who scrubs up to go to the gallery. you just need to enjoy investigating your own city.
free thought. free art.
probably the best piece of the lot, IMO.
the “fuck you stephen harper” wheatpaste is on queen west and augusta, across the street from Java House.
the “gun-toting toddler” is atop a construction overpass in kensington market, near baldwin and spadina.
right next to it, is this shaved-head kid with a rifle.
and the two make a second appearance on queen west and ryerson, just south of Theatre Passe Muraille.
this “my turn raccoon” which i already found in a kensington market alley is also on queen west and vanauley street.
do you see what i see on the abandoned blockbuster at queen and spadina?
* * *
a few months ago, i photographed this stencil saying in the exact same spot outside st george subway station, but it was promptly removed thereafter.
i was almost crushed by a tractor trailer the other day as i rode my bike through parkdale. he didn’t check his blind spot for me and starting turning. my bike crashed to the ground, and he kept going, his huge tires coming within inches of my body. he only stopped when other cars honked and flagged him down. i got up off the ground, shaking, and tried to smash his side window with blind rage. but i’m just a pipsqueak, really.
the flowers came off of my basket.
my leg is a bit bruised, and i have a few popped capillaries, but i’m fine.
cyclists need some peace of mind in this city. we deserve respect. i’m also a driver, and a pedestrian, so i know what it feels like to be all three. none of us own the road. we need to start sharing.
i’m fucking endearing.