Poetry Defeats Violence in Urban Art

A SEKOND CHANCE




Sure, others wrote on their paintings too; Niki de Saint Phalle and Keith Haring did, and so did that icon of Grafitti/Street Artists, Jean-Michel Basquiat. That was a long time ago. Sometimes their words spoke against oppression. Other times they raised awareness about social issues, but always, they formed a platform that counterbalanced the visual artistry of their drawings. 

With the Los Angeles-based street artist SEK, it’s different. His words are like road signs that lead us through his paintings, penetrating our subconscious to give even greater meaning to his visual narrative. “Some people say I’m an urban poet, but I’m really not,” he told me in a recent interview at the Container Yard in downtown Los Angeles. “Of course, like many artists, much of my work is autobiographical, but in a way that I hope makes people rethink what they’re doing, or rethink what they thought.”

This twenty-four year old autodidact reads Hemingway and Rousseau. He talks philosophy and literature. He quotes Bukowski and Scott Fitzgerald as well as he yields an ink pen or a can of paint. Yet, he barely finished high school.  “Life was rough growing up in East LA,” he said, “you know-gangs, drugs, too much alcohol…the whole works.” I asked him how he got his name, how Luis Fierros, born February 14, 1989, the youngest of three children was raised by a single mom, spent much of his time on the streets, and survived. He looked down at the table from beneath the black wool beanie that never leaves his head, “I guess I was lucky,” he said, “that’s how I got my nickname, SEK. It stands for second chance.”

He went on to tell me about drug infested neighborhoods, cutting school and fleeing confrontations with the police. He was street writing as a teenager, tagging benches and alley walls, leaving short phrases or quickie drawings with his signature box containing a three point halo and crown.  Despite several arrests and serious warnings, he hasn’t stopped. “Yeah, when I walk around town, I don’t carry as much as a Sharpie with me or it’s back to jail.” He laughed, knowing I didn’t quite believe him because a can of gold spray paint clearly protruded from his jacket pocket. He wasn’t proud of the fact he had been to jail more than once.  “I assume that’s part of paying your dues when you’re a street artist?” I asked.  “Reality,” he replied, “just day to day survival.”

SEK’s mixed media on wood panels and thoughtful works on paper or canvas reflect only in part, his street productions because they also tell a story that touches anyone who has faced hardship or recrimination. His drawings and painted words, sometimes in bold letters, often hatched out; together force the viewer to reflect on a message. SEK tells us there is one. He prompts us to follow a story in his painting, and while it may not always be self-evident, each piece of work is deeply linked to his own experiences. I wondered if he used drugs or alcohol to directly feed into his subconscious.  “Not anymore,” he replied stoically. “When I paint, I actually cover over a lot of my original work. It’s like you have to be your own worst critic, otherwise it’s too easy to believe anything you tell yourself.” 

The connection viewers have with SEK’s work differs substantially from any aesthetic value that might be derived from it. The emotions are there, you can feel them in your gut, but unlike a supercharged amygdala, they are controlled, retained, tamed in part; like when you are telling a story about your own life. It’s reminiscing, with feeling. His paintings bring the street with all its splendor and sometimes, unspoken dread, into your home and onto the wall. 

---