MOSCOW
MOSKO – PROVIDING WILDLIFE FOR THE NEIGHBORHOOD RESIDENTS
June 2017 – 2886 words
COURSE
How did you become an artist?
I drew quite a bit as a child, right up until my early teens. My mother reminded me that I decorated my childhood bedroom by painting a large figure directly on the wall. I started painting in the street several years later, in 1989, with a more activist approach, participating in the defense of the Moskowa neighborhood where I lived at the time. I had seen the work of a few people who were active in public spaces, like Jérôme Mesnager or Miss.Tic, and I wanted to do the same. However, my initial training was more in graphic design—I'm a bookbinder—and, as a typographer's apprentice, I learned letter design and color theory.
What justified the placement of your works in neighborhoods like this one?
The Moskowa district was being walled off and concrete palisades were going up, creating a deathly atmosphere. So I decided to paint to revive the area. Perhaps there are some interesting walls in the 16th arrondissement.e The arrondissement, but that resonates less with me. I come from a working-class background, so if I want to paint, it's with people. There are cultural inequalities: even though everyone can go to a museum or gallery, because it's a personal choice, there are neighborhoods where these activities are encouraged by education. Therefore, in my opinion, it's less justified to go to those places, and I'm very committed to painting primarily in working-class neighborhoods. So, I mainly work in northeastern Paris, even though I've already participated in the Bièvre art trail, or installed a piece on Avenue Matignon more than fifteen years ago!
STENCILS AND BRUSHES
Could you elaborate on the creation of the stencil, which allows the transition from photography to painting?
Stencils are an easy choice, as I'm neither an illustrator nor a painter. I usually start with a photograph, which I redraw before printing and cutting it out. Previously, I used the technique of multi-layered While I've worked in polychrome, during an artist residency in India I had the opportunity to paint with a brush, which allowed me to explore a new approach and innovate. Several reasons have led me to gradually move away from spray paint. It's not very good for your health, even when painting with a mask. Furthermore, when you're working in the street with spray paint and a mask, the contact is less natural than with a palette in hand. Finally, after using the same technique for over twenty years, the brush allows me to break the routine and rediscover the element of surprise in the final result. I work with volumes and expressions, and I'm once again confronted with uncertainty. This is how I feel more like a painter.
How do you apply it with a brush?
After a light spray, I fill in my background, leaving a bit of transparency to work with the volumes. Then I position my detail stencil (often black), which I apply either with a stencil brush or spray paint. Some of my paintings are done entirely with a brush and acrylics, particularly in India, where spray paint isn't of good quality. I plan to gradually move away from stencils for larger pieces, but it's not easy because they help maintain a sense of scale.
Unlike other urban artists, your works require initial scouting.
There's always a scouting process, because I can't just wander around with all my equipment. I also think you have to consider the location: with animals, you already have to think about size, but you also have to consider perspective, what's around them… Some locations are more suitable than others depending on the place. In any case, my paintings will have an unusual look: it's a purely subjective choice that makes me choose a giraffe rather than a hippopotamus!
Your style is also recognizable by the use of bright, solid colors that evoke childhood.
It's true that these colors are striking, but they're the colors of nature! A tiger is orange, a leopard yellow, a zebra black and white striped: I didn't invent anything. I sometimes allow myself purple panthers or blue tigers, but, strangely enough, when the drawing is realistic, it works very well and people don't even notice. It's funny to present something completely incongruous as if it were obvious. It's part of the message: the animal world evokes nature and freedom; color, joy and the fight against concrete and grayness. But there are also some truly great artists like Jef Aérosol, YZ, or Ender who paint in shades of gray and create magnificent things.
Is there a difference between your street work and your studio work?
I find there's a synergy between the studio and the street. With my latest exhibition, where I paint on raw wood, I've gone back to basics. People are happy because they rediscover a world they love. At first, I was bored with becoming a craftsman of animal paintings, working exclusively with stencils. But by using a brush again, I avoid falling into a routine. This reassessment has allowed me to use a medium I appreciate and that people like, while also developing my style.
ANIMALS AND MEN
Why choose to represent savannah animals? For their playful aspect?
It's primarily a personal choice; I love animals. Zebras, giraffes, panthers, and tigers offer endless possibilities for visual renewal. Of course, their universal appeal also allows for a renewed sense of social responsibility and can be appreciated by everyone, regardless of age, culture, or social background. I've always felt it was important that as many people as possible could connect with what was being offered in the street. The choice of these increasingly rare and endangered animals is also justified by their freedom, which refers both to this unauthorized activity and to the unconventional way it brings nature back into the city.
Isn't there a risk of becoming trapped? Do you develop your bestiary over time?
It's easy to get stuck in a rut, even though the animal world is vast enough to allow for exploration of other realms. While I've painted penguins and polar bears, I feel I'm not constantly reinventing myself. I like pandas, but I only painted them during my residency in China. Since I use street stencils to create my paintings, I try to depict appealing animals: reptiles don't attract me, especially since they're difficult to portray. I'm not striving for originality at all costs. And I really love felines! I had thought I'd tackle birds, but I haven't had the time yet.
Your works, through their accessibility, create a link with the public. As with Mesnager's White Body, one has the impression that before conveying meaning, they already create a sense of complicity.
They become all the more accessible because people make them their own. The paintings given away in the street become the paintings of the people in the neighborhood. They defend them, enhance them, care for them, and express their love for them. People of all ages appreciate them: a grandmother told me at a book signing: “You put a giraffe in front of my door and every time I leave my house it brings me such joy, such pleasure.”It makes you want to cry when you hear that.”.
The "Mosko" style in the animals' visual identity is immediately recognizable to passersby. Do you think its simple appearance gives it greater visual impact?
There's a distinctive style. But since I paint wearing a mask, people don't necessarily recognize me, especially since it's often during hours when they themselves are working. Many, however, recognize the paintings before realizing who the artists are. Yet, they're able to describe the works and the artists' journeys! That's also why urban art is such a human adventure.
THE STREET AS A SOCIAL SPACE
How do you anchor your creations in the urban space?
Several factors influence the choice of location. Some walls speak to us and call to us, while others are chosen to allow for artistic interventions in neighborhoods where not much happens. For me, street painting has a social aspect, even if this can vary depending on the era and individual motivations. It's a form of activism, but also playful and open to sharing.
What was the goal of urban artists in the 80s?
We wanted to bring something to people's everyday lives, even if that doesn't necessarily preclude having commercial ambitions. Our initial commitment was to bring art to the streets, which has been a success. Urban art offers this opportunity to provide an opening, an immediate pleasure. I'm not at all nostalgic for the time when there were only about ten of us. It's up to us to reinvent ourselves, to know how to maintain our place if we want to. The scale of the movement today is also due to an explosion of communication channels.
Could you elaborate on the creation of the Ménilmontant zoo in the 1990s?
The Ménilmontant Zoo marked my first encounter with Jérôme Mesnager and Nemo, which led to this collaborative artwork. The authorities were so afraid it would become an adventure playground that they built a wall several meters high behind the existing fences. Nemo was furious, and when he returned from Colombia, he went and smashed the wall with a sledgehammer! A Japanese television crew was there to film the arrival of the police, who arrested everyone! In the end, the hole wasn't very big, but the symbolism was powerful.
Could you paint everywhere?
I've always distinguished between walls and other walls. I've always respected private property, but I don't consider walls to be like that. However, the law doesn't think that way, and there's always an element of risk, even if my subject matter and approach greatly limit it. Illegality has never motivated me. A man who was watching me paint was getting angry about this expenditure of public money on an ephemeral work. When he realized we were doing it for free and illegally, he couldn't believe it!
Has a graphic dialogue with the public already developed around one of your creations?
I painted penguins on Avenue du Président Wilson. After a year, children named them with markers, which I decided to leave. I also have a very graphic zebra on Rue de Rosny, in an Art Deco style. Graffiti artists have added small tags in the dark, without touching the original structure. I think it's a success, without altering the original artwork, while allowing it to live and evolve within its environment. What saddens me is the desire to destroy or vandalize, even if it's rare because I'm not competing with my own work! Furthermore, I never paint over anyone: if there's a small piece of graffiti, I just paint on the wall next to it. You can't expect respect if you don't respect others. That's why I prefer collaborations to people who try to impose their own agendas.
Is it as easy to find creative space on walls today as it was in the 90s?
Naturally, the more people express themselves in the street, the fewer walls there are to paint. Nevertheless, there are places where there isn't such a rush, like La Courneuve, where I did my last job, or Montreuil. In reality, there are still walls available, but you often have to leave Paris or change arrondissements. Michel Allemand and I used to paint in the 19th arrondissement.e or XXe districts, because there are always free walls there.
How do you reconcile the ephemeral nature of urban art with the fact of repainting a work (which makes it permanent)?
I'm not particularly attached to the ephemeral nature of street art: if a painting can last ten years, I have nothing against it! There are neighborhoods where my paintings have lasted fifteen years, and others, especially along the Bièvre River, where I was immediately defaced. There's such an accumulation of self-promotion, particularly in the central districts, that I wouldn't want that to be my daily environment.
When I was asked what to do for the tenth anniversary of the Bièvre, I suggested covering everything up. It would be good to erase it all and start calmly from scratch. To some children who once threatened to erase my painting, I replied that since they didn't live there, they would be the first to see the result on a daily basis. They didn't touch it. The older folks said everything would be destroyed, but nothing happened, except for a decal of a dog biting the buttocks of a White Body. The social role of art is also visible in the respect that surrounds the works in the street.
COLLABORATIONS AND THE EVOLUTION OF URBAN ART
What has been the evolution of the Mosko & Associates partnership?
I started out signing as Mosko, then when Michel joined me we worked together under the name “Mosko & Associates”. The idea of’partner It allowed us to integrate people who were part of the adventure, gravitating around us, which was quite unifying. This collaboration lasted for many years, encompassing projects with artists like Jef Aérosol, Speedy Graphito, Jérôme Mesnager, and Nemo. The peak of our joint work was undoubtedly in 2005 with our participation in Section Urbaine. After that, it gradually decreased, and the event at the Baudouin Square in 2009 marked the culmination of our collaboration with both Nemo and Mesnager. In 2015, we decided to change our signature, as we no longer work together, and this prevents me from developing a split personality by signing a piece I created alone!
Your career highlights the importance of these artistic collaborations. How do they manifest themselves now?
Indeed, the human dimension of the work involves not only the relationship with the public but also collaboration with other artists. I am particularly fortunate to be asked to participate in group events with people much younger than myself, which allows for occasional encounters, even if the relationship is less close. These are not so much collaborations as shared creative moments, where we come together to work in the same space.
What is your perspective on the beginnings of young artists today?
I started at the end of the first wave of street art, which began with artists like Epsylon Point in 1979 and Jérôme Mesnager in 1983. When I started, urban art hadn't yet inspired all the artists it does today. I have nothing against people who are artists. professionals, But I find it a shame to meet young people who are already planning their career path: where's the joy of meeting them? They already have a career goal, they want to sell their paintings in galleries. I never had that approach: fifteen years separate my first street painting from my first exhibition! I've always been an employee, without ever wanting to leave the job I loved. However, it must be acknowledged that giving up a job to pursue street art is courageous, especially these days when there are many hopefuls but few who succeed.
In your opinion, is the legitimacy of a street artist measured by their seniority?
I don't think it's a question of age. There are people in the graffiti scene who are thirty-five and have almost as many paintings to their credit as I do, because they started painting at thirteen. Others have been painting abandoned spaces their whole lives: they have real legitimacy as artists, without necessarily being on the street. The graffiti world is full of talented painters whose commitment doesn't involve interacting with the public. I admire these people who take risks to paint in hard-to-reach places for the love of art.
You started at a time when painting in the street was still a particular form of expression before becoming a place of recognition. How did you experience this transition?
Without wanting to make accusations, I sense that often the primary motivation for painting in the street is no longer sharing with people, but rather the opportunity for self-promotion. In my opinion, urban art goes beyond painting, because people know it's something being done for them. That's also why I prefer the term "urban art" to "street art.". Urban also means civil It is a social art that brings poetry and wonder.
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