JOURNAL NO.6

I haven’t realized how inspiring walking is until I did this walk through Le Marais. My dad was visiting me this past weekend and yesterday was his last day. I decided to take him along the walk with me and one of my roommates, Emily. 

This was the first walk that I actually followed the directions for exactly. Although I enjoy walking without a destination in my mind, there was something pleasing about having directions to follow. 

We got off the metro and immediately saw a Space Invader piece above an electric sign. Emily and I each snapped a photo and continued on. My dad was asking us, “What the hell is a Space Invader?” and we had to explain. 

As we continued to walk down Rue Vieille du Temple, we cam across different forms of graffiti or street art on each block. 

From some plain and not necessarily aesthetically pleasing tags and stickers, to beautifully crafted murals and paintings, I learned the story of this street. 

It’s funny, I think, how hundreds of people walk down this street on a daily basis and only some of them notice the art that’s surrounding them. Street art is very unspoken. It’s very silent — almost invisible. It’s only there for those who are looking for it. I know this for a fact because I have walked down this exact street three times since I arrived in Paris, and didn’t notice half of the art until I was actually searching for it. 

That’s what inspired me to write. The invisibility of such obvious things. How you can walk down the same street and not notice something until months later. 

This reminded me of an epiphany I had back in New York about a year ago. 

Growing up in NYC, I have walked through Union Square more times than I can even imagine. From drinking four lokos there when I was a freshman in high school, to waiting to meet up with someone, to walking through it to get back to my dorm, I’ve been there thousands of times. In October 2014, I was walking through Union in front of the steps that are across the street from Whole Foods. I couldn’t tell you why, but for the first time ever I looked up. I looked up and towards the left a little bit and noticed something for the first time. The “W” sign atop the W Hotel. 

I realized that I had done this exact walk countless times in my life and never once looked up to see this sign. Or maybe I’ve seen it but haven’t consciously processed it…Who knows. 

I find it hard to believe that there is so much we see, hear, or know on a subconscious level. It’s crazy that one small act or realization can bring this knowledge to our consciousness. 

I have a strong feeling that I have seen a lot of the artwork on this street in Le Marais on a subconscious level — how could I not have, after all? 

It wasn’t until I was consciously looking out for as much street art as possible that I was able to process this information, consciously. 

Our walk continued down the street and we came across more and more Space Invader work. More seemingly insignificant tags. The phrase, “Je Suis Charlie”, seemed to be everywhere in every shape and form. There were stickers and murals and everything alike. Artwork on doors and walls, high and low, some even on the floor. 

My dad pointed out a drawing or painting in white marker on the sidewalk of a man’s face and we all admired it and found it funny. Emily and I looked up from the floor just to see our good friend, Sintra, approaching us cigarette in hand. 

Luna and I keep talking about how New York moments keep happening here in Paris. We keep running into people we know at random times when we least expect it. Emily and I seeing Sintra made sense because she too was doing her walk for this blog post, but it was almost surreal. I felt the world shrink under my feet because I realized just how small it really is. 

Anyway, the three of us chatted for a few minutes and Sintra told us about an alley way she found that was filled with grafitti and stickers alike. I asked if she wanted to join us on our walk, but she had come from the opposite direction and wanted to see what was ahead. So, Emily, my dad and I continued towards the Siene. 

Just a few steps down from where we ran into Sintra, Emily and I found the alleyway she was talking about. 

I walked down the little street and found so many beautiful pieces of art. This was the one place that has inspired me the most in the past month. 

I first noticed two women higher up on the wall that appeared to be dancing. They were covered with glitter. Below them was the remnants of something that was torn off. Under this tarnished piece of the wall was a closer-up image of a woman’s face. It;s in black and white and there’s a shadow over the right side of her face. 

Directly across from these images is a sticker saying, “JUST DO ART”, next to the figure of  a man. The man has a white hat on with what looks like aviator glasses sitting on it. His hands are holding the strings that come down from the sides of his hat. His face is covered in shadows but his eyes are very clear and seem to be staring right at you. I feel like it’s him that is telling me to JUST DO ART. 

Next to this man is another depiction of a woman’s face. This was is bigger than the one across from the man. There are less shadows and the coloring is lighter. She’s very beautiful and seems to be staring right at me. Underneath her is a smaller image of a woman. This woman is pregnant and naked, with a pink shirt or blanket covering her breasts. Her legs are spread open and she comes off very sexually. Next to her is a small name tag saying, Zalez. 

Further down the alley, I saw another sign saying “Zalez Was Here”, in-between a woman’s head and her legs. 

I walked closer towards the end of the alley to find more graffiti, but there was mostly just stickers and writing with spray paint. 

We left the alley and walked all the way down to the Siene. We then made our way to the Notre-Dame and then went home. 

When I got to my apartment, I was intrigued by this street artist, Zalez. I searched him up and found his website and all of his other work — drawings, paintings, photographs and more. He is a French street artist and his exhibition just ended about a week ago. 

This got me thinking. I find it crazy that there are so many different pieces of art in this one alley that were put up by countless artists. Nobody else put their names next to their work, so there’s no way to find anything else they’ve done. 

It’s kind of like me and my roommates. The four of us live in this apartment that has been occupied by other people in the past. The different flaws in our apartment are a cause of their actions, but we don’t know their names or anything about them — we never will. 

If only there was a way to look up, or allow our consciousness to process any information about these people. They are as invisible as the artwork was to me before I went looking for it. 

That’s what inspired me to write this The invisibility of history, of people, of art, and of things.