VLP (Long Live Painting)
THE CRAZY RACE OF THE GRAFFITI PIONEERS
FORMATION OF A COLLECTIVE
Your meeting takes place in the catacombs, the true heart of artistic Paris in the 80s.
We met at a punk party in the catacombs. There were three of us working on the walls, lit only by candlelight. We became friends and decided to meet again, Current, A magazine of the time, dedicated to what was trendy, published a report on anonymous painters discussing our work. We returned a few days later to write "Long live painting!" It was a way of being derisive. Like punks with music, we wanted to demolish painting, while simultaneously proclaiming it. That's how those three words became our name, which we shortened to VLP. It was a time when Conceptual Art reigned supreme: painting was scorned, considered old-fashioned. Yet we wanted to work with it, while remaining mindful of Marcel Duchamp. To do this, we had a concept: to work collaboratively, with a single signature, VLP, which became the painter.
In your home, musical culture is very prominent. Your performances are always accompanied by a soundtrack.
From the very beginning, in 1983, we did indeed paint in the street, carrying our boombox. We were also invited to paint at the Palace, the Rex Club, the Locomotive… During these performances, we were accompanied by rock, rap or techno groups like Depeche Mode.
Unlike other groups where identities remained distinct, you preferred a common signature.
We used to say that we had renounced ego to create a logo. Through practice, several things emerged: like Joseph Beuys, the hares of modernity were rising. We had attended art schools. We had to shed this pre-existing culture to find our style, simplifying to the extreme to achieve freedom. When we went out, police surveillance forced us to work very quickly, which contributed to creating a line style close to Bad Painting and the New Fauves. We had to sign quickly and use an acronym. A new concept appeared, making us media-painters. The street allowed us to get to the heart of the matter, becoming the most beautiful of galleries. It was about "painting in the open air." The birth of French Graffiti.
We were like a punk-rock band. As Picasso pointed out, we had to "smash the guitar." Continuing this musical metaphor, we imagined electrifying our brushes to create irradiated paintings, with only one watchword: «" must "» : to go for it and dare. At that time, Jack Lang was Minister of Culture. Suddenly, there was money and permits. During our performances, if the police showed up, we would claim to be acting on behalf of the Ministry of Culture, and in case of doubt, they would let us proceed.
This name, VLP, is a true statement of intent.
During our meeting, we laid everything out on the table. At the time, no one had yet painted in the street. Painting retained a sacred dimension. A canvas had to be framed and presented in a gallery: placing it in the open air, exposing it to the elements, was a new, scandalous idea.
The other innovative aspect was the collaborative work. For us, this stemmed from a reflection on painting itself. While it has always been a window onto the world, we felt there was a new way to advance it, by working on the periphery of the canvas, exploring the human relationships that exist outside of it and become an integral part of the artwork. Painting isn't simply about opening a can and picking up brushes; it's also everything that accompanies it. Therefore, the viewer's interaction with the artists becomes part of the artwork.
From the outset, we also wrote fanzines to indicate the direction we were heading, with slogans similar to haikus. Painting as urban poetry. Color does indeed correspond to words, notes, which may or may not rhyme with each other. This also includes wordplay, derision, such as "VLP paints the brief." We met Basquiat in New York, who admitted to doing the same. This, however, must be distinguished from the practice of writers and graffiti artists whom we did not know personally at the time.
The collective can be a source of instability. Is it difficult to sustain?
That's why it's interesting that VLP is the painter. Our goal is to move forward, not to sit back and watch the world go by. We explore, we know where we don't want to go. When we start a new canvas, we don't know what it will be. However, we know how to build it together. When we get together, we discuss a title that will serve as the text. That's where the painting is born. From then on, it will never be a failure because we continue working on it until it satisfies us. If one of us isn't happy, then we set it aside to come back to it later.
URBAN ART FIGHTERS
In reaction to an elitist idea of culture, you write «"Wanting to attack the fortresses of institutional art."»
Our desire to create in the street stands in opposition to this, carrying a social, political, and ecological dimension, but also the act of reclaiming urban space so as not to leave it to advertising. This is where our desire to encircle Beaubourg comes from. One of our murals was titled «Sovaj dé vil atak Bobour» The artist was, for us, a kind of urban savage, an Indian attacking the Fort of Culture. The fence was worth its weight in gold to us, the finest of exhibition walls. It offered us an enormous surface we could never have obtained anywhere else. It's important to remember that our work has an intellectual dimension, with many references to art history and slogans. Leonardo da Vinci declared «Pittura è mentale». The illustration alone is of no interest. We we wanted our work to also have meaning and be part of the history of Art, in the lineage of artists we love such as the Impressionists or the Expressionists.
What did Beaubourg symbolically represent in relation to the world of art?
Beaubourg was intended to be a place for contemporary art, that is, art in the making. Some of the upper galleries were meant to be dedicated to showcasing emerging painters. Very quickly, however, it became just another place exhibiting the works of older generations. It's difficult for museums to offer something new, because the public sometimes feels lost when confronted with it. Nevertheless, it remained a very interesting place, both for its architecture and for its open, accessible nature.
The evolution of your work has also largely been influenced by the way you view the individual.
Painting is the realm of utopia: if the money used for Defense were given to Culture, it would completely change the world's relations. In the year 2000, we created a character, Zuman, a metaphor for humankind. Zuman is a decapitated social body that joins the Native American attacking the Centre Pompidou. To create him, we asked artists from all over the world to send us their profiles via the internet. We synthesized and transformed them to obtain this face, this pixelated head of the ideal artist who, to paraphrase Malraux, could save the 21st century.e century. This character is also an extension of "The Anonymous One," which we created previously. It gives voice back to humanity by placing it at the center of discussions. Since its creation, it has accompanied us on canvas and in the street, whether we paste it up or paint it. VLP has always been mindful of its environment and new technologies.
Beyond Zuman, do you use recurring symbolic elements?
We have several recurring elements that we modify, or new subjects that are integrated. After forty years, our bag is full of characters from all worlds, from art history to comics. Picasso, Dubuffet, Twombly, Guston, Gasiorowski… we build from all of them.
REFLECTIONS ON PAINTING
You are continuing a reflection on a living painting, conveying energy and intensity.
VLP was meant to be a place of inspiration, not a stifling force. We don't always agree, of course, but our goal is to reach an agreement so we can move forward. We work for VLP like musicians work for their band. Sometimes we paint three or four different pictures on a fence, because it's exhilarating to work in the street.
We come back to the idea of performance which, from the fence to the canvas, testifies to a discharge of energy.
Bold colors, rapid execution, painting that comes from the gut… There's a wild energy and passion in graffiti. The 80s were a great period of renewed interest in painting, with the New Fauves in Germany and the Transavantgarde in Italy. But it returned in a different form, like rap in music. Street art brought new images and perspectives.
Few urban artists place research at the center of their work.
But that's precisely what an artist should do! We created and launched the Graffiti train. And even today, people are still getting on board. From time to time, interesting figures emerge, but the vast majority of work is made up of clichés. However, the purpose of art isn't to be pleasing. It should unsettle the viewer. The advantage of working in a group is also that you're constantly forced to question yourself.
THE WORK AND THE STREET
In what way is the street a unique space for creation?
In the street, we have the necessary technique, even if we don't have a perfect eye, because we have to work quickly. A street intervention is like a concert; it only happens once. No two are alike. There's both an intensity and the act of embracing certain gestures that would be used in the studio, but which we often find interesting in retrospect. For VLP's 30th anniversary, we organized a retrospective, showcasing works from all periods: the whole thing was very coherent, with a touch of positive provocation. We thus start with a clash painting style, which drips and goes off in all directions, and arrive at a more structured painting style, which nevertheless remains powerful and meaningful.
Street art carries a creative style sometimes marked by social urgency.
It's crazy to think that more than twenty years ago we were exhibiting for Nelson Mandela's release, yet racism still exists. Graffiti has the metaphorical capacity to take a stand. And to make things happen? Perhaps. But like any movement coming to an end, urban art is becoming decorative, devoid of any challenge to the system. We're waiting for a new wave of artists who will shake things up. A good art student is useless.
On the street, visibility tends to constitute presence.
When we started, there were only a few of us, so we were seen. But today, there's so much going on that it's impossible to see anything, because everything cancels itself out. For us, the environment of the collage is also important. In 2005, Zuman's profile took on a physical form. It became Zuman Kojito, accompanied by a speech bubble that translates his thoughts ("I think, therefore I harm," "I am not a ready-made"). We place it at eye level, on a street corner, so that people suddenly encounter it. The text then becomes a disruptive grain of sand.
The important thing then becomes shared reflection.
The wall is a Basque pelota court. Our image is offered to those who take it and send it back. Some people tell us what they saw in our paintings in light of their own experiences, which is very interesting because it wasn't necessarily our perception. Different people construct their own systems of thought in response to these reflections, making them their own: these viewers are the ones who create. This allows a painting to have several lives and multiple levels of interpretation. Without knowledge of art history, it's impossible to recognize the references.
What is your view on the ephemeral nature of a work of art placed in the street?
What matters to us is the gesture. Then the artwork lives on, whether it disappears or not. The ephemeral leaves a trace in people's minds. It also refers to the gratuitous dimension, that of a work offered to the public, who can choose to accept it or not. There are spaces we've occupied longer than others: the hoarding of the Saint-Merry church, for example, "belonged" to us for several years. We repainted it often, sometimes even with friends. Today, next to the Pompidou Center, we have a mural called «"This is not graffiti."», because it's the first one for which we obtained authorization.
REFLECTIONS ON URBAN ART
You talk a lot about art history. But within urban art, one can get the impression that there are micro-epochs that ignore the history of previous generations.
It's a shame, but not a big deal. At exhibitions, we meet many people who have discovered our work, sometimes through books or the internet. We never stop reading and taking an interest in other painters, from all periods. But in the art world, as in everyday life, some people are curious, and others are self-absorbed.
What is your view on the evolution of Urban Art as an artistic movement?
For us, this is the most recent movement, as none has succeeded it, even though it's nearly fifty years old. It has transformed itself several times, presenting itself as a bridge between New Figuration and Bad Painting. By taking to the streets, we pushed these movements a step further. It's easy to forget, but at the time, certain newspapers often presented a graffiti painting and a smashed window side by side. Even today, the Minister of Justice still cites graffiti as an example of delinquency, as a social phenomenon. Besides, we remember the names of the artists, not those of the ministers!
Another pivotal moment was the crisis the movement faced in the 1990s, coinciding with the economic collapse and the spread of AIDS. These events devastated many artists, but we persevered, forming the group Étant donné with Paella?, Miss.Tic, and Daniel Baugeste. A nod to Marcel Duchamp. Furthermore, we had already united the urban movement in 1985 by organizing the first graffiti festival in France in Bondy, along the Ourcq Canal, through the exhibition "Les Flamboyants," which brought together figures such as Miss.Tic, Blek le Rat, Speedy Graphito, Futura 2000, Kriki, Kim Prisu, Epsylon, and the Ripoulin Brothers…
Being an artist is a long and difficult journey, but oh so exhilarating. Long live painting!
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