Graffiti removal isn’t the enemy of art. It’s part of a vibrant dialogue on life in the big city
- Written by The Conversation
Thanks Radical Graffiti for informing me where my next job is!
This is the message I woke up to on January 26, as one of my research participants saw some anti-colonial graffiti in Melbourne posted on the popular Instagram page. The “job” he refers to is that of removing graffiti – a costly, relentless and largely overlooked maintenance operation in modern cities.
You may have heard of various statues being defaced across the country to protest Australia Day. And if you live in Melbourne, you’ve probably come across the city’s iconic “Pam the Bird” graffiti. Pam’s creator was arrested on January 30, about a week after a massive image of the bird appeared on the Novotel hotel in South Wharf.
What you don’t see, however, are the groups of workers standing by to evaluate and repair the damage done by graffiti artists. These graffiti removal technicians, or “buffers”, often posses a more detailed knowledge of the urban fabric than many architects and planners.
With millions invested in graffiti removal in Australia, as part of a visual policing of surfaces, I argue “buff” deserves recognition as a cultural and aesthetic practice of its own.
What is “buff” and how does it work?
Graffiti removal is the practice of removing, erasing or obliterating unauthorised displays from publicly visible urban surfaces.
In graffiti culture, this removal is colloquially known as “buff”. The name comes from a chemical train washing facility deployed by the Municipal Transit Authority in New York City in the 1970s, when graffiti clean-up efforts first started.
Buff is typically conducted by authorised municipal officers or private contractors and businesses. It involves the chemical and mechanical treatment of urban surfaces, often underpinned by zero tolerance policies that have turned it into a global billion dollar industry.
Greg Ireland demonstrating his products inside his Graffiti Removal Chemicals training facility in Melbourne.
Sabina Andron
Whether they work for local councils through apps such as Snap Send Solve, run private businesses, or operate independently as anti-graffiti vigilantes, buffers either remove unwanted marks, or paint over them to obstruct them from view.
And with the removal of one image, comes the creation of another.
In this example chemicals are used to destroy the surface paint, leaving behind a ‘ghost’ image.
Sabina Andron
A symbiotic relationship
It’s a common misconception that buff is strictly an image removal process – a zero sum game aimed at returning public surfaces to a pristine material state. This assumption is the main reason it has been afforded little attention as a creative practice.
In fact, buff produces some of the most interesting visual forms within contemporary cities. It contributes to the visual cultures of cities worldwide, not just through maintaining visual order, but through delivering easily overlooked painterly compositions.
The visual forms of buff done by vigilantes can be even more jarring than the graffiti they cover.
Sabina Andron
Much like graffiti, buff is a widespread visual and symbolic feature of contemporary cities. These two practices need each other, and engage with cities in symmetrical and symbiotic ways.
Buff will sometimes closely follow the contours of the graffiti it obstructs.
Sabina Andron
Also, although they operate on different mandates, graffiti writers and buffers largely respect each others’ resourcefulness and creativity. As one buffer has repeatedly told me, “tagging and buffing are more related than people are prepared to see.”
Buffers and writers use walls collaboratively. Here, a graffiti writer acknowledges the abater with a message: ‘legendary buff’.
Sabina Andron
Graffiti removal as aesthetic practice
Keen urban enthusiasts have been documenting buff in many forms, from the early photographs of Avalon Kalin in the United States, to artist Lorenzo Servi’s The City Is Ours bookzine on graffiti removal, to Hans Leo Maes’ photographic collection of buff from the 2019 Hong Kong protests.
Most famously, buff made the object of a 2001 experimental documentary by Matt McCormick. This cult favourite popularised the idea of graffiti removal as a subconsciously creative act with aesthetics that resemble the works of abstract expressionists such as Mark Rothko or Agnes Martin.
The abstract expressionist aesthetics of repeated buff interventions.
Sabina Andron
A suite of other contemporary artists and photographers, many of who come from a graffiti background, also engage with buff in their practice. Mobstr, Germain Prévost (Ipin), Thierry Furger, Nelio Riga and Svetlana Feoktistova provide just some examples of buff-generated creativity.
Three different buff treatments of the same wall.
Sabina Andron
Others such as activist Kyle Magee have served prison sentences for buffing public ads, raising questions about not only the legitimacy of public images, but the legitimacy of their obstruction.
An example of activist buff on street posters.
Sabina Andron
Beyond visual order mandates
Involuntarily perhaps, creativity is everywhere. Urban surfaces are prized visual and material assets in cities, with the potential to generate huge symbolic and economic capital.
No matter how many millions of dollars are invested in removing graffiti, or pursuing criminal cases against its creators, public surfaces will always be contentious forums of visual production, obstruction and collaboration.
Textured surfaces resulting from visual dialogues between graffiti and buff.
Sabina Andron
Alongside graffiti, posters, stickers and myriad other inscriptions, buff adds new textures to the surfaces of our cities. Its aesthetic and cultural value should be celebrated.
