With heavy hearts, we say goodbye to the brilliant Don’t Fret.
Cooper, the Chicago street artist known as “Don’t Fret,” was born and raised in the Wicker Park neighborhood—a community that shaped his perspective and featured prominently in his work. A few days ago he passed away at the age of 36 after a long illness, as confirmed by his family. Deeply connected to Chicago’s working-class spirit and changing urban landscape, Cooper created street art that reflected a genuine affection for the people, culture, history, and places around him.
The news of Cooper’s passing is deeply saddening. His work as “Don’t Fret” brought both humor and sharp insight to the streets of Chicago and beyond. He had a distinct ability to capture the quirks and contradictions of daily life in ways that resonated widely, and his absence will be felt across the street art community. He was prolific in a number of cities, including in Brooklyn, where we first grew to appreciate his humor and his insight into the human condition.
We once wrote, “Don’t Fret… knows how to depict us in all our eclectic and imperfect wonder without passing judgment but causing a cryptic cackle of recognition when you run into him.” His observations were pointed without being cruel, and his portraits often walked the line between satire and affection. May his legacy inform and inspire both artists and those who encountered his work in public spaces.
Following is a collection of Don’t Fret pieces as shot by photographer Jaime Rojo.
Welcome to BSA Images of the Week. Happy Easter, bunny.
Great stuff is out on the streets today, whether you are wandering aimlessly through the city or touring with a sense of purpose. Street art continues to evolve, even as it repeats. Can anyone doubt that there is a more relevant artform that can be instantly responsive to current events and take the longer view?
The city’s buzzing with art this spring—start with these must-sees, in addition to hitting the Botanical Gardens in Brooklyn and the Bronx and the local park and your neighbor’s tulip bed: At White Columns, Gordon Matta-Clark: NYC Graffiti Archive 1972/3 offers a rare look at early graffiti culture through the artist’s archival photographs (whitecolumns.org). Over in Industry City, Brooklyn native Michael “Kaves” McLeer presents Brooklyn Pop – A Brooklyn Dream, an immersive homage to the borough’s style and swagger, complete with full-scale subway replicas and vintage ephemera (brooklynbuzz.com). At the Whitney, Amy Sherald’s American Sublime brings together nearly 50 of her portraits in a commanding solo show that focuses on Black life with quiet power and elegance (whitney.org). Meanwhile, the Guggenheim hosts Rashid Johnson: A Poem for Deep Thinkers, filling the iconic rotunda with more than 90 works exploring Black identity, masculinity, and emotional depth (guggenheim.org). And at the Brooklyn Museum, Breaking the Mold: Brooklyn Museum at 200 celebrates the institution’s bicentennial with a wide-ranging exhibition that reflects its rich, complex legacy and commitment to representation (brooklynmuseum.org).
We continue with our interviews with the street, this week including Citty Kitty, Homesick, JerkFace, Eternal Possessions, Chupa, Android Oi, Staino, Masnah, Jaek El Diablo, Jay Diggz, Washington Walls, BC NBA, Busy, and Pytho.
If you’ve ever been stopped in your tracks by a cryptic phrase pasted on a lamppost or beamed onto a building, there’s a good chance you’ve crossed paths, at least spiritually, with Jenny Holzer. Before text-based street art became a global, sometimes cerebral, genre, Holzer treated the city as her canvas, her publishing platform, injecting unsettling truths and poetic jabs into public space. Her work speaks, it interrupts, cutting through the usual noise of ads and slogans with smartly honed phrases like “Abuse of power comes as no surprise” and “Protect me from what I want.” For those familiar with the language of the street, her words hit like a well-placed burner on a clean wall—brief, bold, impossible to ignore.
Jenny Holzer. “Protest“. Image still from the video. Art21
This Art21 segment from the Protest episode (2007) dives into the heart of Holzer’s practice, showing how she weaponizes language to question authority, mourn the dead, and spark outrage. Part of the footage is filmed in New York, where Holzer made an early and iconic mark through Messages to the Public, a series initiated in 1982 on the Spectacolor board in Times Square. The project was originally conceived by artist Jane Dickson, who worked as a designer and programmer for the board and collaborated with the Public Art Fund to transform this site of commercial messaging into a rotating space for artist interventions. Early electronic billboard hacking, if you will.
Jenny Holzer. “Protest“. Image still from the video. Art21
Holzer’s contribution—concise, confrontational phrases pulsing above the chaos of the city—stood out as an early example of using language in public space to disrupt and provoke. Her practice, from wheatpasted posters to LED projections and carved stone, has always operated like guerrilla commentary embedded in the infrastructure of a city. Whether on the street or in the museum, the language can be a scalpel—and in Holzer’s hands, it cuts deep.
Jenny Holzer. “Protest“. Image still from the video. Art21
Holzer’s latest return to the Guggenheim Museum with Light Line (2024) shows just how far she’s stretched the possibilities of text in space. Expanding on her original 1989 LED spiral, the new version snakes up all six floors of the museum’s rotunda—an electric river of thought running through a sacred temple of art. She’s also dropped pieces in unexpected places throughout the building, echoing her roots in the streets. In one of the rawest gestures, graffiti legend Lee Quiñones tags over Holzer’s Inflammatory Essays posters in the High Gallery—bringing two generations of text-based provocateurs into direct conversation. It’s a perfect reminder that the best street pieces don’t just decorate; they challenge.
Jenny Holzer. “Protest“. Image still from the video. Art21
Holzer’s connection to the street art world is deeper than just aesthetic overlap. Her interventions predate the global explosion of text-based street work, sometimes they were in concert with the early graffiti writers. They resonate with the same urgency and intent as some. Like the best writers-on-the-wall, she’s continuously operated on the edge of visibility—sometimes sanctioned, often not—placing language in places where people live and look. Whether she’s carving into granite, projecting declassified torture documents onto civic buildings, or flooding a wall with fluorescent truths, Holzer’s work is a reminder that words in the street aren’t just decoration. They’re weapons, warnings, and sometimes, prayers.
Jenny Holzer. “Protest“. Image still from the video. Art21Jenny Holzer. “Protest“. Image still from the video. Art21
In the ever-evolving public and street art equation where boundaries between genres blur and definitions remain in flux, a notable regional museum has taken a decisive step toward institutionalizing a decade-long experiment in civic art-making. With the opening of Hi-Vis at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum, the first ten years of its public art initiative are given a platform inside the museum walls—not just in the form of an expansive exhibition but also through a new book and documentary that trace the evolution of their unique and sustained commitment to public art.
HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK.
Running through June 9, 2025, Hi-Vis celebrates over 80 artists who have participated in creating more than 60 public works across Buffalo and it’s surrounding county. Names familiar to fans of street art and contemporary muralism appear alongside local heroes of various styles and disciplines, forming a compelling mix that includes FUTURA 2000, Shantell Martin, Felipe Pantone, Maya Hayuk, Louise Jones, Jun Kaneko, Julia Bottoms, Monet Kifner, Pat Perry, Edreys Wajed, and many others. These artists—some creating their largest or first-ever public works—are altering and shaping Buffalo’s new visual identity by emphasizing community collaboration and civic visibility.
HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK. Artist. Felipe Pantone.
The exhibition, presented on the third floor of the new Jeffrey E. Gundlach Building, is co-curated by Aaron Ott (Curator of Public Art), Eric Jones (Public Art Projects Manager), and Zack Boehler (Assistant Curator, Special Projects). It invites audiences to consider muralism and street aesthetics as entry points into the broader range of practices these artists engage in—highlighting the connections between creative expression, community engagement, and the on-the-ground perspective of those who live here. As the accompanying book Hi-Vis: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum makes clear, this program is not about surface decoration or branding neighborhoods; it is about forging durable, meaningful relationships between artists, institutions, and the communities they work with.
Directed by Jeff Mace, the companion video documentary Hi-Vis: Ten Years of Public Art (below) further contextualizes this effort with interviews, installation footage, and insights from those who brought these projects to life—many clad, as the name suggests, in high-visibility orange or yellow vests, straddling cranes and scaffolding as they worked.
HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK. Artist. Futura 2000.
Spearheaded by museum director Dr. Janne Sirén and supported by both the City of Buffalo and the surrounding Erie County, the Public Art Initiative stands as a first dedicated department of its kind at an American museum. It’s proponents say that in doing so, it marks a new model—one that recognizes public art not as an outreach program but as core practice. Certainly museums like the STRAAT in Amsterdam, UN in Berlin, MUJAM in Mexico City, and the Museum of Graffiti in Miami have active and engaged programs with art and community in the public sphere. Similarly, as this retrospective shows, public art at Buffalo AKG is neither an afterthought nor a trend but a sustained cultural investment.
In a global street art landscape marked by public and private interests, sanctioned and unsanctioned practices, grassroots efforts, and institutional frameworks, where mural festivals, community art, graffiti heritage, and critique frequently converge and collide, Hi-Vis offers a chance to reflect on how a museum can meaningfully participate in the public realm while allowing artists to remain true to their diverse methods and voices.
HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK.
BSA spoke with curator Aaron Ott about the Buffalo AKG Art Museum’s Public Art Initiative, exploring how the museum balances global and local artist engagement, fosters long-term public collaborations, and rethinks the role of museums beyond their walls. Ott reflects on lessons from other mural and street art models, the importance of sustainability, and the potential for institutional partnerships in shaping the future of public art.
BSA: Reflecting on a decade of the Public Art Initiative, how do you balance the inclusion of local voices with internationally recognized artists? What does that balance bring to the communities you serve?
Aaron Ott: As a global arts institution, the Buffalo AKG Art Museum is uniquely positioned to collaborate with and commission talent from all over the world. Our foundational sponsor for the Public Art Initiative at the AKG was the Erie County Legislature, joined shortly thereafter by the City of Buffalo. Erie County is over 1,200 square miles with dozens of municipalities and nearly one million citizens. These factors, our global reach, our rich geographic opportunities, and our diverse audiences, along with our position as a collecting and exhibiting institution of modern and contemporary art offers us a unique scope and latitude when considering international, national, and regional talent. Over the last ten years of production, roughly 20% of our projects have been with international artists. The remaining projects have been evenly split between national and local talent.
The result is a program that answers a variety of questions that is as diverse as our audiences. We are fundamentally collaborative, working entirely on property and in landscapes that the museum does not own. As a result, we support our artists alongside the concerns and desires of our various publics.
HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK. Artist. Tavar Zawcki. (photo courtesy of AKG Museum).
BSA:In shaping this program, how much influence did the global rise of street art festivals and mural programs in the last two decades—like WALL\THERAPY in Rochester, Nuart in Norway, or Urban Nation in Berlin—have on your thinking? Did you engage with any of those models directly?
Aaron Ott: In addition to the models you name above, we looked at numerous others dedicated to street art (MURAL in Montreal, Wynwood Walls in Miami, the Philadelphia Mural Arts Program) and continue to share ideas with public art producers around the United States and abroad. At the beginning of our initiative, I was particularly interested in models led by Art Centers, specifically the Hyde Park Art Center in Chicago and the Kohler Art Center in Wisconsin, since I was most familiar with their programs and formats. The Art Center model, at the risk of oversimplification, is one that is centered on audience, dialogue, and openness. At times, museums can feel more “closed” to people and we really want to act in a way that honors our long legacy in contemporary art here at the AKG while presenting ourselves as available to collaborate.
As we grow in scope, we continue to evolve our thinking of what kind of work is available for us to produce collaboratively and cooperatively with our publics. We also look at other institutions and organizations (like the North Carolina Museum of Art, the Nasher in Dallas, Madison Square Park in NY) to consider how elements of their models, while fundamentally different, might lead us to similar successes and outcomes.
HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK. Artist. Kobra. (photo courtesy of AKG Museum).
BSA: As one of the few curators of public art embedded within a major museum, what responsibilities do you see attached to that role? Should more institutions formalize this position?
Aaron Ott: I’m not sure I could overstate how important I find being attached to and imbedded into a museum. Buffalo is a relatively small city (population 250,000) but one with a broad impact regionally (Erie County population just under 1M). While I would certainly argue for large American cities and their corresponding institutions to embrace models similar to ours, I strongly believe that pretty much every mid-to-small size American city should consider our model.
My personal opinion is that if you take cities of less than one million, starting with, say Jacksonville, FL, or Austin, TX, all the way to cities just over 200,000, Little Rock, AR, or Sioux Falls, SD, for example, you’ve got over 100 American cities with various collecting institutions with a breadth of local and national knowledge and expertise on the arts.
What sets museums apart from other models is our inherent connectivity to history, collection, and stewardship. As cities themselves grow, shrink, and evolve, it is often the civically oriented arts intuitions that serve as a central and foundational element of identity.
Our own organization was founded in 1862. While most of our peer intuitions have not been around that long, what sets museums apart from many organizations is their year-after-year, ongoing commitment to creative culture. But while plenty of museums participate in public art sporadically, nearly none of them are currently developed with long-term annual commitments to such a program.
Usually, museums activate their commitment primarily on their own walls in their own spaces, but with a little bit of support and ingenuity, they could easily participate in the public as we do. It is both simple to say and hard to do, but sustainability is the key for an institution that wants to participate in the public realm.
HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK. Artists. Edreys Wajerd and James “Yames’ Moffitt. (photo courtesy of AKG Museum).
BSA:What role does community input play when a mural is planned? Are there specific guidelines or processes that ensure artists engage meaningfully with the neighborhoods their work enters?
Aaron Ott: The Buffalo AKG Public Art Initiative produces projects through a variety of public/private partnerships that allow for and foster cooperation to achieve the highest quality of work for the broadest possible audiences throughout Western New York. We seek to address the critical questions projects by considering core questions of funding, site, artist, community, capacity, and collaboration. Each of these elemental matters must coalesce in order for success to be secured.
Community conversation is essential at the earliest stages, as detailed exchanges will clarify instances where different constituents in the community have diverse interests or specific pressures dictating their particular viewpoint. By parsing and articulating these diverse perspectives, we establish baseline principles to identify find consensus through a multi-dimensional look at public art practices and community interests. Our policies and actions are specifically developed with discourse in mind.
HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK. Artist. Muhammad Zaman. (photo courtesy of AKG Museum)
BSA:The book and exhibition feature artists with roots in graffiti, street art, muralism, conceptual public art, and activist-based practices. How do you view these differing traditions and practices intersecting under the umbrella of public art at AKG?
Aaron Ott: Our museum has always been dedicated to, as we say, the art of our time. As an institution, we are committed to exploring and supporting the work that contemporary artists are engaged with. Perhaps no mode of presentation captures audiences as broadly and deeply as displays of public works of art, which positions our initiative as aligned with one of the most consequential methods of production today.
BSA:Have there been discussions or potential partnerships with other museums—like STRAAT in Amsterdam, MUCA in Munich, UN in Berlin, or LA MOCA—that also have maintained public art programs? What might a collaborative model across institutions look like?
Aaron Ott: Collaboration is all we have ever done. Because that acts as a center of gravity for our initiative, I have great confidence that we’ll be expanding what that means for our partnerships. Institutional, organizational, civic, or independent, we are consistently testing and exploring what collaborations will yield equitable and mutually beneficial outcomes. We’ll never be short on good artists with good ideas. It’s just a matter of finding the right partners at the right time.
HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK. Artist. Josef Kristofoletti.HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK.HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK. Artist. Hillary Waters Fayle. (photo courtesy of AKG Museum).HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK. Artists. Mickey Harmon and Ari Moore. (photo courtesy of AKG Museum)HI-VIS: Ten Years of Public Art at the Buffalo AKG Art Museum. GILES / D Giles LTD, UK. Artist. Robert Montgomery. (photo courtesy of AKG Museum)
BUFFALO AKG ART MUSEUM.
Hi-Vis
Friday, February 21, 2025–Monday, June 9, 2025
For directions, schedules and opening hours click HERE
Chag Sameach to all who are celebrating Passover. The Hasidim in Brooklyn kicked off the public festivities by lighting fires on sidewalks in various neighborhoods—a surprising and bright flickering of orange, yellow, and white dancing flames are a sight against the cold gray downpour of April. As the smoke wafts through the streets, there’s a moment of panic—wondering if a building is on fire or if war has broken out.
Yes, there are wars of many kinds across this country and worldwide—and times of tumultuous change like these may augur even more conflict. We’re tempted to say “Dark Times,” as it appears we are amid a slow-motion demolition, but we want to reserve such pronouncements.
On the street, New York is—as ever—bratty and bright, bracing and beatific. Someone may cut you off to grab a subway seat, but another person might offer you theirs. We know things aren’t right, and the fog of propaganda seems designed to make us fearful of one another. However, New Yorkers largely settled the identity politics conversation a quarter century ago, and we’re generally not interested in rehashing it. We’re more likely to wonder why the subway still feels rickety, why prices on everything from rent to groceries to concert tickets and restaurant entrées keep jumping out of reach. At the same time, the official inflation rate still claims it’s 2–3%. Really? Where did you get that number?
The most remarkable image we caught this week comes courtesy of someone who may be a new “Splasher” in New York—bloody flash installations dripping down walls and onto sidewalks. The symbolism could apply to so much happening in the world, and the beauty of most street art is this: you create the narrative.
We continue with our interviews with the street, this week including CRKSHNK, Modomatic, Michael Alan, Alex Itin, Word on the Street, Mini Mantis, The Splasher (2?), AS+ORO, Baz Bon, Winnie Chiu, and Priz.
New graphic works by Brazilian duo Bicicleta Sem Freio—Douglas de Castro and Renato Pereira—tap into a visual language shaped by music, memory, and the intensity of youthful aspirations. Their palette leans hallucinatory, echoing blacklight posters and underground zines, with surreal figures and dream-fed compositions that push past the real. The vibe is familiar to anyone who’s ever covered a bedroom wall with band posters—but BSF’s imagery doesn’t stay inside. It moves outward, into public space, into the street and across walls.
Bicicleta Sem Freio. Hot Since. (photo courtesy of Justkids)
Emerging from the underground music scene in Goiânia, Brazil, the duo gained early recognition for hand-drawn concert posters and sounds of the underground. Their work stood out—not just for its precision and electric style but for the way it captured the pulse of a scene. Since then, their large-scale murals and print works have reached large audiences while still retaining their character. These new graphics keep the same charge: a mix of neo-tropical chaos, psychedelic pop attitude, and a designer’s eye for detail.
Bicicleta Sem Freio. BomaHot Since. (photo courtesy of Justkids)
In a time when digital art can feel generic and automated, BSF’s all-handmade approach carries weight—their images land somewhere between street icon and personal artifact—tight compositions with a raw pulse. On concrete or adapted into cultural objects, their work travels between public and private zones, staying rooted in the traditions of street art and the music scene while expanding its territory. These new pieces are less a departure than a return, reminding you that the spirit of street culture has always been about connection, rhythm, and marking space—sometimes on a building, sometimes on a bedroom wall.
Bicicleta Sem Freio. Vintage Culture. (photo courtesy of Justkids)Bicicleta Sem Freio. Boma Vintage Culture. (photo courtesy of Justkids)Bicicleta Sem Freio. Vintage Culture. (photo courtesy of Justkids)Bicicleta Sem Freio. Boma Vintage Culture. (photo courtesy of Justkids)Bicicleta Sem Freio. Carnaval. (photo courtesy of Justkids)Bicicleta Sem Freio. FATBOY SLIM. (photo courtesy of Justkids)Bicicleta Sem Freio. Black Coffee. (photo courtesy of Justkids)Bicicleta Sem Freio. Boma Black Coffee. (photo courtesy of Justkids)Bicicleta Sem Freio. Boma Disclosure. (photo courtesy of Justkids)Bicicleta Sem Freio. Bear Stone Festival. (photo courtesy of Justkids)
Before “street art” became a globally recognized genre, Barry McGee and Margaret Kilgallen were charting their course—one rooted in graffiti, freight trains, hand-drawn signs, and the layered rhythms of the city itself. This rare 12-minute Art21 segment, first aired in 2001, offers an intimate look into their daily lives and creative processes as they prepare for professional exhibitions, walk the tracks with grease markers, and draw inspiration from the overlooked details of the urban environment. It’s a snapshot of a pivotal moment—both for these artists and for the emerging intersection between street-based practices and the contemporary art world.
Barry McGee & Margaret Kilgallen. Image still from the video. Art21
Filmed in and around San Francisco, the video captures the couple’s quiet intensity as they work side by side in their home studios and wander through city streets, sketchbooks in hand. Kilgallen’s fascination with folk art, typography, and the quiet strength of everyday women is evident in her brushwork and storytelling. At the same time, McGee’s background in graffiti writing (under the name “Twist”) infuses his work with raw immediacy and empathy for the margins. Together, their work bridges the privilege of formal art training and a DIY ethos of that time, resisting slickness in favor of the handmade, the weathered, the real.
Barry McGee & Margaret Kilgallen. Image still from the video. Art21
In a brief sequence at a local railyard, the artists point out their favorite freight markings and leave their own, adding to an ongoing visual conversation that spans the continent. Here, we can witness the full scope of their practice: part art history, part subculture explorer, part ephemeral, anthropological act of communication. The video doesn’t over-explain; instead, it allows the viewer to observe, to absorb, and possibly feel the quiet devotion these two artists have for their work, even as they negotiate their paths.
Aired initially just weeks before Kilgallen’s untimely passing in 2001, this footage now carries added weight. It serves not only as documentation of two artists at work but also as a rare and moving record of their shared vision—a world built from signs, symbols, and experience, where the boundary between art and life is barely visible.
Barry McGee & Margaret Kilgallen. Image still from the video. Art21Barry McGee & Margaret Kilgallen. Image still from the video. Art21Barry McGee & Margaret Kilgallen. Image still from the video. Art21Barry McGee & Margaret Kilgallen. Image still from the video. Art21Barry McGee & Margaret Kilgallen. Image still from the video. Art21Barry McGee & Margaret Kilgallen. Image still from the video. Art21
Welcome to BSA’s Images of the week. Mockingbirds are bringing sprigs from the cold, grey, churning East River to build nests on the banks of abandoned lots of Williamsburg/Greenpoint before further ugly gentrification paves it over. Up and down the Brooklyn waterfront, it’s a procession of architectural mediocrity—glass boxes and bland slabs posing as progress. With few exceptions, these vertical office parks evoke visions of photocopier showrooms or surplus staplers stacked in a supply closet.
Magnolias and cherry blossoms are starting to bust out all over Brooklyn. Spring is here, and it’s coming in hot—and cold. April’s throwing weather tantrums like a toddler on espresso, bouncing us around like a pinball between heatwaves, cold snaps; all while dodging the political side-swipes we read and hear on social media and the press room. Add in soaring grocery bills (despite what the “official” numbers say), and it’s no wonder everyone’s feeling a little punch-drunk.
In a notable week for New York’s graffiti and street art scene, Dutch artist Tripl, also known as Furious, unveiled his decade-long project, Repainting Subway Art. This ambitious endeavor meticulously recreates the iconic 1984 book Subway Art by Martha Cooper and Henry Chalfant, with Tripl reproducing each original piece on European trains and re-enacting the accompanying photographs. The project culminated in the publication of the 196-page book that was featured Friday night and feted Saturday night.
Friday to a packed auditorium the Museum of the City of New York hosted a panel discussion on featuring Tripl, Cooper, Chalfant, and artist John “Crash” Matos. Moderated by graffiti scholar Edward Birzin and introduced by MCNY’s Sean Corcoran, the conversation delved into the evolution and global impact of graffiti and street art culture and the powerful reverberation of the book’s influence on generations of writers and artists.
Last night, Crash’s gallery WallWorks New York in the Bronx inaugurated the Repainting Subway Art exhibition, offering an immersive experience juxtaposing pages from the original Subway Art with Tripl’s reinterpretations. As word gradually spreads about this project, the graffiti and related communities will undoubtedly debate its significance—as homage, reinterpretation, and artistic intervention—while celebrating the obsessive dedication it took to recreate one of graffiti’s foundational texts from a contemporary, transnational perspective.
We continue with our interviews with the street, this week including stuff from Homesick, Kobra, Humble, Sluto, Wild West, V. Ballentine, Bleach, Toast, CAMI XVX, Vew, Tover, Dreps, Leaf!, Aneka, Kam S. Art, and John Sear.
Nadia Vadori-Gauthier, a Franco-Canadian artist and choreographer, initiated the “Une minute de danse par jour” (One Minute of Dance per Day) on January 14, 2015. This endeavor was her response to the Charlie Hebdo attacks in Paris, aiming to offer a daily act of poetic resistance and to foster a sense of solidarity and tenderness through dance.
She records a one-minute dance in public spaces daily, engaging with diverse environments and audiences. As of early 2025, she has shared over 3,600 such performances. BSA has only featured about 20 of them over the last decade.
Here is a compilation that showcases the evolution of her daily dances, highlighting the variety of locations, interactions, and emotions encapsulated in her performances. Thankfully, she has documented her project, which serves as a testament to the transformative power of consistent artistic expression in public spaces.
Long before he hijacked billboards, Ron English was growing up in Decatur, Illinois, tuning in to the everyday spectacle of ads and authority—and wondering why nobody was messing with them. By the late 1970s, English had begun altering billboards in Texas, driven by the realization that “making art was only half the equation.” The other half? Being seen. Advertising billboard culture became his unwitting canvas, a visual battleground where commercial power collided with public resistance.
From satirical cereal mascots to twisted cartoon icons, Ron English has consistently lampooned consumer culture, branding, and the corporatization of childhood. His warped advertising parodies echo an earlier tradition of subversion—perhaps most notably the Wacky Packages stickers of the 1970s, illustrated by artists like Art Spiegelman and Norm Saunders. These collectible cards spoofed products like “Cap’n Crud” cereal and “Crust” toothpaste, offering kids a gleeful way to question the slick promises of mass-market brands.
Alongside MAD Magazine’s fake ads, they helped cultivate a generation that cast a suspicious eye toward the messages pumped out by powerful corporations—corporations Ron would later stick his fingers in the eyes of, quite literally, on their own billboards. But beyond the pop surrealism lies a deeper urgency: the struggle over public space. As English notes, “Why should a company own a million billboards—and I own none?” It’s a question that resonates in a world where corporate entities can buy influence and visibility, while ordinary people are largely shut out of the conversation.
Street art and billboard takeovers in particular respond to that imbalance. They are risky, illegal, and often thankless acts of defiance. English’s work—sometimes carried out in daylight while wearing a reflective vest to pass as a worker—subverts not just the medium but the system that controls it. His collaborations with activist groups marked a turning point: art for art’s sake gave way to art with a message.
This video and interview by the next generation of political artist-activists, INDESIGN, pays tribute to English—not to glorify him, but to understand his path and purpose. His story helps illustrate why artists still take to the streets: not always for fame, but to reclaim space, to question authority, and to be heard in a world flooded with noise.
Welcome to BSA Images of the Week. Congratulations to our Muslim neighbors in NYC on the occasion of Eid al-Fitr, and we wish them peace, joy, and blessings as they mark the end of Ramadan.
The popping rumble of customized mufflers is back on the streets, a rite of spring as familiar as purple crocuses and snowdrops pushing through browned grass, old 40 bottles, crumpled chip bags, and cigarette butts. The warming weather softens the ground and lets loose the mingled scents of hydrangea and dog pee. And once again, Saturday night Romeos are rolling down their windows, cruising slow, and blasting tracks like Jack Harlow and Doja Cat’s new banger “Just Us”—hoping someone’s paying attention.
On the street art tip, you’ll see Faile has come back with some of their new and old icons remixed, Trump and Elon are widely critiqued in caricature, and vertical graffiti is the new horizontal.
We continue with our interviews with the street, this week including Faile, John Ahearn, CRKSHNK, Modomatic, Qzar, EXR, Ollin, Sto, REW X, Want Pear, Batola, Ooh Baby, Thug Life, and Jayo.
Shepard Fairey has unveiled a new six-story mural titled We Demand Change in Washington, D.C., a solemn and visually arresting tribute to Joaquin “Guac” Oliver, one of the 17 victims of the 2018 mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. Installed at 618 H Street NW in Chinatown—just steps from the Capital One Arena—the mural bears Oliver’s portrait above the words “Demand Change,” a frank call to action and a reflection of Fairey’s decades-long commitment to social justice through art.
Shepard Fairey. Joaquin Oliver – Demand Change. Washington, D.C. (photo courtesy of Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company)
The mural was painted by Fairey alongside Joaquin’s father, Manuel Oliver, himself a visual artist and activist. It was unveiled on March 24, 2025, marking the seventh anniversary of the historic March for Our Lives rally. This project was realized through the collaboration of several organizations committed to ending gun violence: Change the Ref (founded by Joaquin’s parents, Manuel and Patricia Oliver), Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company, DowntownDC Business Improvement District, and March for Our Lives.
Fairey’s statement underscores the deeply personal nature of this project: “Gun violence is an issue I’ve addressed in my art going back to the 90s, but no project has ever had the emotional weight that this one does.”
Shepard Fairey. Joaquin Oliver – Demand Change. Washington, D.C. Shepard in the middle with Joaquin’s parents Manny and Patricia. (photo courtesy of Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company)
The mural continues a long tradition in street art and graffiti of public memorials and political expression—from tributes honoring the victims of 9/11, to revolutionary slogans of the Arab Spring, to stenciled portraits from the Black Lives Matter movement, and even the Cold War-themed subway murals of New York pioneer Lee in the 1980s. These works transform walls into spaces of mourning, protest, and resolve. Fairey’s tribute to Joaquin joins that lineage while directly confronting the consequences of inaction in the face of American gun violence.
For the Oliver family, and for Fairey, the mural is more than a visual landmark—it is a call for legislative change and cultural reckoning. “There aren’t enough walls to pay tribute to all who have died tragically,” Fairey says. “It is time for us to demand change.” The mural is permanent, but the demand it voices is urgent and ongoing.
Shepard Fairey. Joaquin Oliver – Demand Change. Washington, D.C. (photo courtesy of Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company)Shepard Fairey. Joaquin Oliver – Demand Change. Washington, D.C. (photo courtesy of Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company)Shepard Fairey. Joaquin Oliver – Demand Change. Washington, D.C. (photo courtesy of Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company)Shepard Fairey. Joaquin Oliver – Demand Change. Washington, D.C. (photo courtesy of Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company)
Statement from Shepard:
“My crew and I, along with Manny Oliver, Joaquin Oliver’s dad, just completed this 6-story Demand Change mural in the Chinatown district of Washington, DC. Gun violence is an issue I’ve addressed in my art going back to the 90s, but no project has ever had the emotional weight that this one does. Joaquin Oliver was one of 17 people shot and killed at Parkland High… he was 17 at the time, the same age as my younger daughter Madeline. My art is a reflection of my values: human rights, justice, peace, equality, and yes, family values.
I put the value of my family and anyone else’s family ahead of the right to bear arms without conditions. The founders of the U.S. included in the Declaration of Independence the idea that we are all endowed with unalienable rights, among which are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. Gun violence takes those unalienable rights away from too many people. Guns kill more kids now than car accidents, and no one debates that driving a car comes with conditions around safety and responsibility. I hope that anyone who sees this mural is intrigued by who Joaquin Oliver was/is and can understand that he had huge promise and meant the world to his parents Manny and Patricia. Manny, Patricia, and I don’t want other families to lose their kids to gun violence. This mural is not just a tribute to Joaquin but a reminder that there is a huge human consequence to gun violence, and there aren’t enough walls to pay tribute to all who have died tragically. It is time for us to demand change!
We must use our voices and our actions, especially including our votes, to push for change. Joaquin could be your son, brother, cousin, or friend. Please check out and support what Manny Oliver is doing as an artist and activist with his organization Change the Ref. Also, check out Manny’s play “Guac” if it comes to your town. Thank you to my crew of Nic Bowers and Rob Zagula, as well as Manny Oliver for their help on the mural—also, big thanks to Lukas from Downtown DC for securing the wall and resources. Also, thank you to Wooly Mammoth Theater for hosting Manny’s play and helping facilitate this project!”
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