Issue 63 - writers corner - graffiti

 Writer’s Corner: Ink, Spray, Word

Welcome to the Writer’s Corner where the line between graffiti and literature blurs.

Some of what you’ll read here started on a wall, a napkin, a subway tunnel. Some of it never left the page. But it all shares a pulse: fast, personal, urgent. Whether it’s a tag turned into poetry, a short burst of street philosophy, or just raw, unexpected language, this space is for voices that don’t wait for permission.

You’ll find stories told sideways, manifestos in one sentence, fragments that could be rap bars or overheard confessions. Some pieces are graffiti. Some are about graffiti. Some are just what happens when someone decides to write something real.

This section isn’t polished. It’s alive.
A tribute to the scribblers, ranters, thinkers, lovers, and ghosts.

Write on walls. Write in margins. Write like it matters.

UNKNOWN CREATOR -

I found this peice written on a wall -

“Graffiti is the untamed handwriting of the city’s soul,

an act of urgent self declaration scrawled across concrete and steel,

where every mark is both rebellion and remembrance,

a refusal to vanish quietly,

a celebration of presence in a world that renders so many invisible;

it is art without approval,

poetry without punctuation,

a restless,

rhythmic chorus of names,

symbols, grief, joy, rage, and survival,

blooming in the margins where no one was supposed to speak,

yet everyone has something to say.”

Resident Poet- Peter Devonald;

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Resident arts writer - Michaela Hall

Making days more colourful 

The words 'Graffiti' or 'street art' can be taken in lots of different contexts and will get different reactions from different people. Some people believe its mess and chaos in their community, some people think of murals and wander in awe to find their next sighting of it. While there's different ways to think about 'graffiti' the type that personally means something to me (and many others I believe!) is the creativity from artists who want to make the world they live in more colourful, and giving the places they live and work personality and quirk, more often than not putting a smile on people's faces on their journeys - something that is entirely different to the usual gallery space or exhibition. 

I want to re-visit two particular places that I've been lucky enough to see in the past year to show how colourful and vibrant a place can be with the addition of some creativity - or 'graffiti' and 'street art. Both of these places are in Wroclaw, Poland. 

The first of these is a place called Galleria Neon Side - it's a grungy backstreet courtyard that comes to life at night; the gallery itself consists of older commercial neon signage spread around and above you in the courtyard. You may be thinking that that doesn't classify as graffiti or street art which is where I follow on that the area itself has also attracted lots of incredible creativity on its walls. If the area wasn't already exciting enough, this is only made more beautifully colourful and vibrant than the punchy and bold artworks on the walls to accompany it. The pieces are large scale and unapologetic and you can see that any white cube or wall couldn't house the scale they need to pop. It's a backstreet wonderland that seems unsuspecting from the front street and has a whole life of its own because of this creativity and perfect placing of the murals on the walls. 

The second place is one of the most surprising and unique places I've ever visited, with large scale wall murals in abundance in a very unexpected setting. I visited a neighbourhood in Wroclaw called Nadodzre, it's a place with many pieces of pre-war architecture and it's a normal unsuspecting local town, despite the fact it's apparently become more popular and has modernised over recent years, it feels a very normal (and friendly) place. All I can say is that I'm so glad we decided to explore a few back paths! I'd read there was some impressive street art in the area but had no idea what to expect and it was only on taking a back alley of a main street that headed into a local estates courtyard that I saw the most amazing environment full of art. I'm not exaggerating when I say a back courtyard - it was literally people's back yard in a square block estate of apartments and houses that's accessible by the public and the artwork was actually on their homes. This half secret location wasn't advertised or signposted - it just lived there for people to find, and it was covered in beautiful murals with everything from pets to jungle scenes, slogans and landscapes. It was important to remember that these were people's homes, and not a tourist attraction but something about the area made that feel so special, this artwork was a part of people's lives and every other person we saw there looking (which wasn't many) seemed to be very respectful of the area. This to me was an outstanding example of how 'graffiti' or 'street art' can bring so much joy to the everyday, making people's lives more colourful and fun, unapologetically EVERYWHERE and a part of the place's identity. 

My visit to Wroclaw certainly made me think about street art in a different way, I've always been a fan of anything to promote creativity in public spaces  (and not causing a nuisance for the locals!) but these places truly made me realise the power of colour in the environment and for those encountering it daily. You often hear of people complaining that places have been 'taken over' with street art or graffiti but what we don't hear about enough is how much joy it can bring - being loud, brash and beautiful and giving somewhere its own unique personality. Couldn't we all do with a bit more colour in our lives?

https://www.instagram.com/michaela_hall_artist/

 Artist - STEPHEN NICHOLAS

I’ve been creating zines since 2017. The focus at first was on the dichotomy of the body. How it can be quite inert at times but also has the power to provoke. Over time what began to interest me more was how the stresses of life leave their marks on both body and landscape. My work became about permanence and erosion. To put it another way; I commented on change in all it’s maddening forms and how things fall apart. I began to wander. 

I’ve always walked along the canal but I’m not sure when I first saw the skeletal structure. I was unaware of the place’s history; I’ll be honest it looked like a wasteland with the detritus you often find in these place. Abandoned washing machines and Super Brew cans aplenty. It seemed to be a refuge of sorts; this is where the forgotten lived. There was a quiet eeriness to the place which was occasionally interrupted by barking dog or skein. Along with the Northern Quarter in Manchester it’s the place I have photographed the most.

The first thing you saw as you approached was scrawled graffiti that read: “I HOPE YOU DIE OF CANCER”. I’m not sure who that was aimed at but it didn’t seem to be random. I ended up getting some postcards done of the image. I just liked the idea of it being turned into art. How there was beauty in the frustration. I’d do this again years later when I had a set of Christmas cards done of the snowman art that had recently been sprayed. I guess it beats wise men or stable scene.  

‘Cancer’ has since been painted over, in fact the site has recently been partially closed off. I fear what gentrification may be coming. I never did any research into the place bar reading an article that detailed a fire at the social club which brought it’s living days to an end:https://www.bcthic.org/Articles/Bank_Hall_Miners_Club. A club and recreational ground that was built for men who toiled down the pit. I never really see Burnley as a mining town and yet there were shafts drilled all over. I feel there’s so much I don’t know about this place I should belong. 

There’s perhaps a metaphor in the spray and whitewash. When I’m not down Bank Hall I spend most of my time in motorway underpasses taking in their sights and smells; usually a mix of pot and piss. Bank Hall though feels like hallowed ground. As a writer I’m drawn to how the artist David Wild, whose mural graced the walls of the social club, has become ghost. How much of his work exists? Could we find new space to display his work? I also dream of whose footsteps I am walking. Their blackened faces. How I can somehow feel them.

There is an argument put forward that graffiti is an eyesore. I’ve always taken it as the purest form of self-expression. A way for people to show they exist. Sure, a lot of the time people can only be bothered to spray cuss or prick but there’s always a colourful energy. I have always been fascinated with what you find here on the outskirts. This hinterland seems to have an abundance of possibilities. A place I change into my artist alter ego. I then write about desire and wanderlust. Wonder what I would spray given half the chance.

https://www.instagram.com/cavedweller71/

https://cavedweller71.wordpress.com/?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAaeVDCGrev0xmWRJ-pagMB1UmUaEdtiumuZIWP3bUlm0WGkeivZIXfR4o_EtGA_aem_JhWzjd7fxr0Gi6nxSEXXhg

OF OTHER SPACES

by Artist and Editor Nichola Rodgers - @nicholarodgers.artist www.nicholarodgers.com

Graffiti as Decoration, Identity, and Protest

There’s something magnetic about a wall marked by time. When I travel, I don’t go looking for monuments, I go looking for the spaces in between. The alleys, the underpasses, the scaffolding, the back walls of buildings long forgotten by city planners but still whispering stories. That’s where the real voice of a place lives. And most often, that voice speaks in graffiti.

“Of Other Spaces” is a visual archive of graffiti captured across Canada, the UK, Europe, and beyond, each photograph a document of a moment, a message, a mark left behind. This project exists in the tension between fine art and street culture, between sanctioned beauty and outlaw expression. It’s a meditation on the other spaces of urban life, those places where the official narrative breaks down and something raw and honest emerges.

Graffiti as Decoration

At first glance, graffiti might seem like noise, colourful chaos on concrete. But look closer, and it’s clear: graffiti is an art form with its own aesthetics, rhythm, and rules. It's decorative in the truest sense, not in the way of ornamental design, but in the way a body tattooed becomes more itself. A wall covered in tags, throw-ups, or full-blown murals is no longer just structure, it becomes a surface that remembers, absorbs, and radiates life.

In many cities, I’ve photographed whole blocks turned into open-air galleries, vibrant mosaics of overlapping styles and messages. There's a visual generosity to these spaces: you get the sense that even if the artist didn’t know who would see their work, they knew someone would. In a world increasingly dominated by sterile branding and commercial signage, graffiti reclaims the public eye with beauty that isn’t trying to sell anything.

Graffiti as Identity

Every tag is a name, a claim to space. Every stencil is a message that says: I was here, this matters to me, you should pay attention. Graffiti is deeply personal. It’s how people who are often denied a voice in the mainstream carve themselves into the city. It’s a way of asserting identity in a landscape that wants conformity.

When I photograph graffiti, I’m not just documenting aesthetics, I’m collecting evidence of life. These are visual fingerprints, signs of a living culture shaped by young people, immigrants, activists, artists, and outsiders. You can walk a few blocks and see the same hand style reappear over and over, like a breadcrumb trail of presence. In that way, graffiti becomes a kind of cartography, a personal geography mapped onto shared space.

Graffiti as Protest

Of course, graffiti is also protest. It is born from refusal, the refusal to ask permission, the refusal to be erased, the refusal to remain silent. Sometimes the protest is direct: political slogans, anti - establishment sentiment, declarations of rage. Other times it’s more subtle, a beautiful mural in a place the city has neglected, a reminder that joy can live even in ruins.

There’s a quiet defiance in every piece of graffiti, no matter how small. And it’s that defiance I seek out when I travel. I look for places where graffiti interacts with ruins, with sites already layered in history, neglect, and decay. In Rome, I found street art creeping up the side of 2,000-year-old ruins. In Glasgow, graffiti haunted the skeletons of industrial buildings. The messages weren’t always loud, but they were always there, speaking across time, refusing to be buried.

The John Lennon Wall – Prague

One place that perfectly captures the spirit of this project is the John Lennon Wall in Prague. Originally just a normal wall in the Malá Strana district, it became a spontaneous memorial after Lennon’s death in 1980, covered in lyrics, peace signs, and messages of love and defiance. During the Communist regime, the wall became a symbol of resistance, young people would tag it with grievances and political demands, only for the state to paint over them, again and again. But the writing always came back.

When I visited, the wall was alive. Layers upon layers of text and paint, some old, some fresh, some already fading. Tourists were adding their own messages, some thoughtful, some cliché, some profound in their simplicity. And in the middle of it all, someone had written, in messy black marker:
“You can whitewash a wall, but you can’t silence a soul.”

That stayed with me. The John Lennon Wall is a perfect example of how graffiti turns a surface into a symbol. It is protest, memory, and decoration at once. It is not just a wall—it is a living site of resistance, a breathing archive of emotion and community.

Searching for the Un-curated

Of Other Spaces is not about glamorising graffiti or sanitising its rough edges for the art world. It’s about paying attention to what cities are trying to say in the places they’ve tried to forget. I don’t go looking for perfection. I go looking for feeling. For contradiction. For walls that tell the truth better than billboards ever could.

Whether in the cold steel corridors of Canada or the sun-bleached ruins of Italy, I seek out the places where graffiti feels like a pulse beneath the city’s surface. These are not just images, they are conversations, confessions, and claims. They are proof that someone was here, and they had something to say.