Making Graffiti Girly
May 20, 2011 2 Comments
Love it or hate it, graffiti is evolving. Women are taking to the streets to cover statues, hydrants, lampposts, and anything else they find interesting in the urban jungle with yarn.
While there’s certainly female graffiti out there, yarn bombing has become a movement that breaks away from an art form that is often pretty masculine. There’s a certain cozy feeling to yarn bombing, almost like wrapping yourself up in that warm yet gaudy sweater your grandma knit you. Just look at the Charging Bull near Wall Street that Agata Oleksiak covered with pretty pink yarn last December.
But Oleksiak would be offended if you were to relegate her work to yarn bombing, which she considers just the “trite work of amateurs and exhibitionists.” As with the visual arts, what constitutes artistic expression may differ from person to person.
Despite the debate, we’ll stick to yarn bombing for now. As one of the only terms including the word “bomb” that doesn’t have negative connotations, it’s harmless and it’s feminist associations seem positive.
If you’re a woman who knits, whether as an artist or hobbyist, why not make the street prettier with your creations? What’s more, yarn bombing is lingering with graffiti in the realm of “vandalism,” making it seem like a dangerous practice. I certainly didn’t think knitting (let’s face it, we think of our grandma when we hear the word) would ever be considered illicit, but it just makes it all the more appealing.
Yarn is unraveling worldwide, making it a global artistic phenomenon that seems far beyond its roots of mere “grandma graffiti.” Although I must say I like the grandma association. There’s just nothing bad we can really say about grandmas, can we? We love and respect our elders who are, for the most part, peaceful people.
Yarn bombing is the bomb. Thanks Grandma.
Contact the author here: tinybart@morningquickie.com
Why does girly have to mean pink and purple? I, for one, hate being matched with something that’s called “girly.” How about making it so that we don’t label our existence besides calling ourselves “people.” How do we expect others to take us seriously if we call ourselves these things. I am not a girl. I am a woman.
My father and a friend of his were watching the game and the conversation turned to women who call themselves “girls.” They were both of the opinion that it was ridiculous for adult women, and I was in agreement. Half an hour later I had to call them out when they began referring to the women they work with as girls.