To Find Authenticity: Saber Interview (VNA 2016)

One of the most passionate, articulate and important individuals ever to grace Grafiti Sabers intricate and aggressive style needs very little introduction. Whilst the glory days of risking life and limb may be behind him, he retains an honesty and attitude which are as cutting as ever.
I had the pleasure of speaking to him about progress, parenthood and politics.

"You see high art taking bits and pieces of our aesthetic and regurgitating it back out making a lot of money. Apparently it’s trendy. We earned the right to use these aesthetics over anyone else. Certain people paid a higher price than others to learn these things. I see value in an artists struggle"

Obviously being such a veteran writer, has graffiti taught you anything lasting about the way the world works? Any distinct positives and negatives?

It’s been a long road….. destroy, rebuild, tear it down again. Positive, it teaches you about yourself. Negative, it teaches you about yourself…..

Graffiti and art is microcosm to the wider world. Cities functions, politics, socioeconomics. When you can travel to any city in the world and not know the language but can tell you what exactly is going on there just by reading the walls, you know you’ve stumbled upon something powerful. Over time it reveals deep insight. It’s a journey, a life’s path that can be applied to the self.

I’ve found that the confidence it gives you is a subtle but pervading one, a kind of whole body strength which opens up the world beyond societal boundaries but obviously whose flip side is a pronounced paranoia….

As far as lessons goes, little lessons on how to assimilate into different environment/people/situations. Learned how to steal in plain sight….

The confidence side of this lesson learning is something that shifts, some days I feel like I’m completely unstoppable, and other days I feel like the world is standing on my neck. The strongest thing that I can take away from this is how to push yourself towards a goal or task.

Not to mention the actual physical learning lessons of engaging the creative process. I believe painting large scale graffiti pieces has given me an edge over the traditional sense.

Fuck your wack ass girl portrait, I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THESE WACK ASS PRETTY GIRL PORTRAITS, this isn’t a make up add for prepubesant teenage Beiliber fans. These Street Art walls personally look nicer to me blasted with a fire extinguisher, little community outreach program. 

How would you describe your style and approach? has it changed since you began? 

If you were to take a snap shot of a moving powerful energy source in battle stance. Intricacies, connections, flow, tech. Go big, paint hard.

I’ve always had this strange cluster in my head. Been there since I saw my first wildstyle as a kid. I am fascinated with the esoteric language letters and abstraction unveils to you. My style hasn’t necessarily changed but grew and expanded overtime.

Can you remember what this first wildstyle was? I’ve always been fascinated by abstract and the more illegible side of wildstyle as it appeared to communicate more of an attitude concerning its history and environment than it did pure letter science. What are / were you more concerned with? Letters or message?

The first wildstyle I saw in person was at the Belmont Tunnels 1989.

I saw power in these pieces. I felt this art form was a pathway to something deeper. I’ve always obsessed over the complexities of letters, it’s esoteric nature of math and abstraction. The complex aggressive styles always attracted me. I believed the letters were the message in the sense that the letters led me to search for a message. The two are inseparable.

what keeps me going….. lots of coffee, weed and the hope of success. Securing a future for my family. Making some sort of impact in art, and sharing inspiration.
When I started this the there was no hope for a future. No outlets, opportunities. No one gave a  fuck. Now it’s possible to see an in on an end game or enough substance to create a strategy to plan for a future. You are never good enough till that check clears.

You’re an artist who has managed to retain a distinct visual language over the course of your career, what is it that continues to inspire you about these forms? Is there something you find youre trying to tap into?

What keeps me inspired is knowing that I am still not good enough as a painter or I am still evolving, wanting to see where this art takes me, what I might come up with next. I think when I paint I search for something deeper, what that is, I’m not quite sure yet other than there is a riddle that is still unsolved within me and painting is the best way for me to work these problems out. This distinct style that I have is the representation of this search for a deeper source. What ever the fuck that means…..

You spoke openly in a conversation with revok for Juxtapoz a few years ago about how you feel “art has lost touch with society”. Not necessarily reality but society, which seems a more distinct and palpable loss – being such an openly political individual and ambassador for the arts, is this something you still believe?  

The beauty of art is, it usually reflects the individuals ideas and circumstances. As a microcosm art reflects all aspects of society.

As far as what is acceptable, gets celebrated and what generates recognition, the elite run that narrative as long as they line their pockets first. Hunger Games….

Obviously you’ve been collaborating on some big mural projects with Zes, how do your two distinct creative processes gel together? 

I’ve learned a lot about painting from Zes, but most importantly I’ve learned plenty of life’s lessons from him as well. I believe Zes is one of the most important artists of our generation, his story has yet to be told properly. When we paint together we don’t even need to talk. We just paint. Our work is different but derives from the same place. Texture, layers, buffs, fat caps all piling on top of each other.

How have you reconciled being a graffiti artist and parent? The two can seem so incompatible, are you passing on any lessons?

#7 as far as graffiti goes I’m not out there anymore. I can’t constantly claim the use of the word graffiti to describe myself or my work. It has to be constantly earned and a big part of me has moved on. I gave everything I could to this even to my own detriment and well being. Quit frankly I’ve been bored with it for a while and if I’m not going to go out and do some real shit than fuck it. Let the new generation have it.

I’m 40, two kids, been through hell and back. I’m lucky to be alive.

I write on shit when I can. I’ll sneak in a little tag with my baby girl just to open her up to it. If I can paint a train somewhere then great.

For me it was a volatile lifestyle. All that young tuff guy shit doesn’t work when kids are hungry, diapers need changing and bills are do. Graffiti can be the most selfish act. I don’t have the luxury of being selfish anymore when people lives depend on you. Back when I was a feral dog I thought graffiti was my legacy. Now that I am a domesticated animal my legacy lies with my family’s future and my art.

The lessons I pass on to my kids are more about how I see the world then apply accordingly.

Definitely unorthodox…..

What would you say your influences are these days? 

Art in general. I like seeing where this post graffiti art movement is going. I like to see what’s new out there. The only problem is every thing is so fucking saturated now. How to find something special umongst a pile of steaming shit is the trick. I have extra sensory perceptors to seek out authenticity and sift through the rubble of infested garbage. It’s a special gift I have.

Shit that almost sounded like a Trump rambling….

What ever puts me a good mood I’ll use as inspiration….. fucking butterflies..

  

What led you to become bored with graffiti? Would you feel it’s more that you got what you primarily wanted out of it? Or was there some part that you grew majorly dissatisfied with? (politics etc..?)

I guess I am not necessarily bored with graffiti, well fuck I guess In general yes, I am bored with some of it. Let’s be honest kids, what makes your endless scrawlings any different than the 50,000 names on that wall, with no understanding of lineage. Or your 1000 attempt to paint that same fucking limp piece in a safe community sanctioned streetart playground while posing for endless insta selfies.

Don’t get me wrong, my eyes are fixated to these sticky bathroom stalls and gas station pumps covered with scrawls. I still break my neck looking at rooftops on the freeways almost rear ending the fucker in front of me. I will always love graffiti even the worst of it.

And how do YOU differentiate yourself from that weak wet moldy commercial attempt at streetart that has the general average public excited to “support safe art”. Fuck your wack ass girl portrait, I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THESE WACK ASS PRETTY GIRL PORTRAITS, this isn’t a make up add for prepubesant teenage Beiliber fans. These Street Art walls personally look nicer to me blasted with a fire extinguisher, little community outreach program.

How would you describe your journey / history in 3 words?

Can’t. Answer. That….

What makes your story more compelling than the OG’S who built this movement. Your struggle doesn’t mean shit to anyone when you are trying to fulfill this fake bro ego fantasy of being “a beast” to your small circle of circle jerkers without any substance other than the amount of blunts you smoked.

Now if it is done illegally even if it sucks it still gets a few power points. But it still sucks.

But I still like you…

The point is we compelled each other as crew and as art movent to test our boundaries creatively. These boundaries have been explored like the insides of an old saloon whore. How are you as the new generation going you contribute to the greater good of this art moment. This is one of the reasons many of us are exploring art, new boundaries new possibilities. This shit was turned out 25 years ago, when I started it was all ready past it’s prime. To be turning 40 and still introduce myself as Saber to another adult feels like I’m trying to hold onto some unfulfilled comic book hero fantasy. This has become a commodity, a fashion insta show. Authenticity is surrounded by herds of low frequency clones searching to mimic and appropriate something they have very little understanding of.

And yes you have to paint a thousand pieces or write your name ten thousand times to get anywhere for yourself, as long as you know your roots and cultivate a bigger vision for yourself the path is laid before you. Otherwise you are just another sheep participating in whoring of this culture for fleeting extra likes on your insta post.

Innovation is key. To find authenticity you have to be honest with yourself and your work and the people around you

- Saber 

You can keep up to date with Saber at his instagram 

Funk, Style and Swing - An Interview with Skore79 (12OZ Prophet 2016)

Purveyor of the most complete and bad ass Wild Style known to the whole of Europe, Skore79 has been carefully crafting his artwork for decades - I caught up with him to chat style and how having 3 daughters has changed his approach to painting
@skore79

 Introduce yourself and give us a little bit of background as to how you got started

I got started writing graffiti in the early 90s in a small town at the northwestcoast from Germany. Inspired by the movies Beatstreet and Wildstyle , I was tryin to do the same. Breakdancing  and writing Graffiti.
My first Name was ROM, then ROB. Quite simple letters with a little Bubbletouch.
95-96 I startet to write Skor, then Skore. I liked the letter "S" on the beginning of the word, because it is wild in the nature and you can combine a lot of other letters to it.

Did you ever have much luck with breakdancing? 
No, i was quite funky at the uprockthing, my sixstep was ok, but my powermoves were wack as hell. But I had a fresh Adidas trainer back in da days, lmao

What interests you about graffiti over anything else?

The science of letters. It has no borders. You can add anything you want to it, to bring your  letters to life. Meanwhile it is a big part of my life.   Graffit helped me, finding some very good friends and crew-member over the years, which I dont wanna miss.

How would you describe your style and approach? 
I would describe it as "classic Wildstyle", with some new aspects. I always had a straight focus on to the styles and not to the technique. For me its more important to have a good swing in the letters, as to have very sharp and cutted outlines. Another important thing is to have good and fresh combination in between the letter structure. Trying to stay fresh and original is my motto.

Why does such technical wild style appeal to you over simpler designs?
I don't know exactly. Maybe I´m feeling it more. Maybe to hide my blurry lines, haha. No due to graffiti I´m more the aggresive one. I think with Wildstyle you can give your letters a bad look, you know...something like that.

Everyone is said to have their own arrow and connections, what do you think yours give to your graffiti? as in, how do you use yours? 

There are some limitations, you cannot have your own arrows I think. Everything has already been painted, but what you can do is to have a different kind of combination of the letters and elements. You can have a different or own connection in between the letters, which is important to me. The connections need to have sense, without damaging the single letter….what you can also do, is to have your own swing or movement in your letters. I would compare my style with old Kungfu movies, not just that jet li shit…a mix with looney toons, haha.

Do you have any sort of rituals when you paint? Such as listening to music, drinking beer or smoking?
Yes all of that, lmao! It depends. But mostly I´m trying stay clear in the head and only listening to music, while I´m doing a piece at the wall or on the paper. Generally I´m doing my sketches all at night, while my kids are sleeping.

Any music in particular you listen to when you’re painting?

 I like jedimindtricks, vinnie paz, ill bill, prodigy. My favorite tune is still alchemist feat prodigy: albert einstein and MobbDeep’s HellonEarth. Listening to some german mc`s as well, but they're rare.

What are your main influences at this current moment in time? Whether they be from within graffiti or from outside. 
I can say my current influences are coming from my both crews SBB&ABS.  There are People like Phet, Dejoe, Sbeck, Pork. Which are in my eyes stylemasters in many levels. And the list goes on and on. I love also the styles from KidKaro(Spade)TPM,SureTPM Keep6 from Canada, Ores from Italy  and many more. But my original influences are of course the old New York Style & Berlin in late 80´s till mid90´s.

With you having such a classic and bold Wildstyle look, do you have any opinions on what people call the other side of graffiti, the 'anti-style'? People like PAL crew from Paris, Germes Gang from Portugal etc - where the expression is more important than the letters or tradition itself.

 Never heard of them, you mean this standard Cap, dirty Blade copies? Don't know what to say about that. I mean you have such great tools today like different spray can companies, different caps, cheap ground colours etc and all that they (can) produce is this whack letter-structure. Not worth a look in my opinion. But live and let live, I say.

How have you found balancing being a graffiti artist and a parent? The two can seem very incompatible. Im not that every-day-painter. It is enough for me to have12-15 pieces a year, which leaves a lot time for my girls. When I have to decide, to paint a wall or my girls, I would definately choose my girls.

Could you sum graffiti in 3 words ?
Funk, swing, style

Shout out to my SuperBadBoys, To my ABScrew, Uts . My man Dosar, Fakt47,Suck, Bers, Rafe, Ples Phon, Dragan, Marko, Zeljko, Assir, BjörnUlli, the MFR crew, Hek, Pock, Done, Spade, Keep6, Ores, Stan brate, Sure, York, East, Causeturk, Worm kardes, Leon,KevinAstek, Krome-magazine, Eddy Dibz, Stem ynn, JLo ynn, RageFua and all the others. PEACE! Ephiq,  Shuen, Kine, Wuper,GraffFunk, Knut, Ast, Lens, Toe, Irie.
THANK YOU!

Lefebvre

A man with no teeth sat in a mound of bottles and smiled at me, before lifting the can to his mouth

Nestled between two sections - one silent and one full of sound
I went there to listen to the bats, have a beer and sit down - most of my time is spent wandering around
paint teaches you to interract with things in a sacred way - you grow with the place you paint because you appreciate it being
it makes a place sacred.
things are navigated by them
who there they when? did big burners back to back by the wall next to the old railway track.
it cant be understood by those not initiated, those not gone from place to place with - those not trudged undergrowth and miles of mud with
Thorns, thorns and thorns
Trains, lights and dawn

The way the lines intersected, spent ages looking and how those lines criss crossed and made some savage energy along the wall.
sat with my limbs like that, some kinda yoga position. mimiced what i saw.
 thought more about the blanks, planned maps of meaning. what colours, this and that.

A little old lady on an electric scooter confronted me as I emerged
glances had, not said a word

My Sons Name Is Festival

Never been one to hide from the fight but I might dip and strike again, collect another force and form a plan to penetrate your friends, plan to have you disappear for 10, end up water lung like concrete clogs see we be saying never saw him again
Angst in this hunchback clap a few tracks, back with the sickness sip a few bhang
Slack with the riddim gonna get yourself slapped
Cos tact ain't a tool that I use to attract

My sons name is festival
He said to me whilst we stood crowded round the door of a hurtling train set for Jaipur, it was 6am and I caught him chanting at the sunrise birthing from the mountains the distance.
He offered an open blue foil wrapper in which was nestled some brown substances, I thought rude to reject so took it ecxpecting nuts – rather not, instead it was chewing tobacco. Quite a shock right considering on this tour id already taken opium.

He then introduced me to his family, told me he was an english teacher (this I thought funny as his interpretation of my native tongue wasn't great)
and then gave me a breakfast of a shortbread type cake made of ghee, wheatflour and baking powder I apprehensive in my acceptance of it duely forgot all imagined ills when it touched my mouth, beautiful.

My suns name is festival.

Stay lit with a short fuse well travelled
Keep my eyes out searching for that high mountain
Don't stay put

Now my timings not quite perfect and I admit that
Bit off beat, but bite this nah that no easy feat you see geeze
On a Sleepy Sunday in the rain
I penned a couple notes of pain
My many muscles spoke of troubles blend again
A stale hour absorbed in name
But been A hot minute since I knew her frame
Still, Set fire to a piece of parchment
As my fingers dribble with the question of conversation with you

"Chitodgadh & it's very nice place to see"
I hung out the train doors hurtling towards Jaipur,
I told him my name was Ben and he said
'Pen? What a name!'

Push

Beneath the shadow of the mountains we watched Hindus attempt immortality through immersion and chanting, it is quite a sight to behold man give himself to the gods in the hope of some sweet taste of safety.

I couldn't comprehend this mass enmeshed across the ocean over there 

I couldn't comprehend as the sun did set 

As orange crested building bricks I couldn't see only heard attempts

Your vocal chords they undulate over a PA system across a lake 

The crowd a call to meditate 

So loud I felt reverberate 

I cannot fathom why man would make himself immortal

Though immortal he must be

To hope to find a slice of peace 

Amongst this pile of trash and steam 

Your flesh is weak

Your arms they bend

Your bones they break

Your vision weak 

Your heart is hurt

But song is never stone 

And God is never done

So sing another and long hope 

This water dirty full of shit and socks 

Found a fish float upon its shores

Eyes all wide 

Brahmas tears did not cleanse

The chemicals we expend 

Did rot and row its own natures hand away into its end

Despite your effort for eternity your chemicals do not disappear

Your flesh is weak

Your shit is strong

All holy this, all holy that

But open sewers

Do death attract

I alone a vessel did wake in wicked hour and float with them in crooked song and hymn

 I lost myself in prayer later on

Inspecting every twitch my mind did make in remembering 

All memory is recall anyway they say

So I guess I summoned up a thousand lives from across the lake

Felt all their fates

Lax Sapien

I planted shrooms
waited for while, sipped shots with the moon
breathing in gloom, chatting gaps with a lesser of devils from an unholy few
with cider we rattled all cages, no shot low enough for debasing
every idea and weight of those cases, beyond good and evil is where had we claimed shit
we kicked it a dymanic loose duo, swung round all the haunts that the populace follow
I absorb from the roots and then shoot
play chess with the sleuthest of crews
whilst me and those powers that be, rake creeps into heaps
freewheeling in speech
but never sleep, that for the weak
unless you underneath
in which case I beat bodies, leave em hobbling and soggy

absorb from the roots and then shoot
eat all the fruit
lax sapien stick knowledge in skull which snake brew

oh how i grew
in thorns wine and spew
learn debate plato seven chakras bit snacks this cold mute

yickety yack
hack prezs bank
throw a few phrases then reassemble attack
volcano ebola over whack tongues new track
keep it here keep it now
keep it hymnal and holy in sound
keep that torch lit til baccanal found
I wandered town to town
naked unbound, still tripping on facts
stood straight ape
mistaken for grace a disgusting abstract

I lie down

(2013)

This was written at the grimmest period of my existence a few years ago; post-death of many kinds, I was sleeping on a mattress in my dads bungalows front room, it was christmas, i was alone and due to his dementia he wasn't aware of the season. I was incredibly depressed.

Good times.
Still a favourite though.

I write a lot about love, death, fire & home.
forever the cliche would say next that "theyre all ive ever known"
but as an infection spreads to the heart, my dearly departed ma & me discuss Ginsberg over coffee in a kitchen where the sun warms your face, spilling the room next to the brick walls with a sense of aching normality
like ive been filled to the brim with content, free from all earthly sin (excluding those inherited)
but she aint dancing in those mortal coiled shoes, long since tapping her feet to the great bass drum
the one that scratches at your face to take the skin for what it convinces you is sacrament.
but is actually kidnap. a stopped mid sentence silent vanishing.
and ill be standing before the reaper squealing, asking the only question that matters still
"but..does she still love me? like she used to?"

"has she kept that dimple acquainted with my fingers? has she hidden boxes of photos in a treasure chest?
am i allowed to assign hope to a ship long lost to a swamp?"

but she
always she, the forevermore Sma. forevermore, forevermore the biggest darkness in the hall, the gust of wind thats blowing down walls. the chill that creaks spine.
ive missed you. ill miss you. i am missing you. it is missed.
like there was never meant to be none of this but im piling books of knowledge like ignorance was going out of style.
histories lessons are stamped, or more scarred into skin that yellows with age.

ive learnt to know better, or so id hoped, so id penciled down on some red lines at the back of an old schoolroom class in a maths lesson i wasn't paying attention to. loud booming over the numbers at myself
but i scribbled and sat, scratching marks to paper that would last a life time in the heart.
then i buried it. and whispered to the ground that it better not tell a soul in the wind it blows lest i cut out a tongue with a pastry knife.
not that nature needs nurturing into silence, it doesnt do to tell the mountain about moving. it doesnt dwell on dancing.
but slow burns the skeletons, ravages the exo-ignorance.

'I'll never be alone, ill always have death'
i once wrote on a stone that i then cast out to sea.
i turned away from the shore, walked home & sat in front of a fire like before. light illuminating, old miser buddha position. i fell into the flames again (yet to feel alive). i cut off my arm to dissect the nerves to try and find the ones that were rattling the bone machine, spluttering cough medicine all over the carpet. i collapsed and went further, motorhomed it towards the sunset on a mattress the carers kept under my Dads bed for festive occasions,
but baubels dont reflect itv, christmas trees dont green to dying domesticity.

i've given enough to let go.
i've given enough to escape
what more can you take?

'There is a lifetime in the mornings sun' i woke up to know this stanza from a poem id built.
little light casting through the blinds, i pushed my eyes & tried to find the horizon point to disappear on.
little leprechaun, how does a rainbow grow? where can i melt into the colours, blues & hues?
he handed me a shovel, and recounted Sinking Ships:
"6ft between the days we spent and the way we wish things couldve been"
i sat hunched alone, a meditation my back had learnt and mused upon the best direction to dig in, the comfiest size to sleep in.

I'm shedding skin, but wanting sleep
I'm kneeling for prayer to bring a guillotine
I'm washed under history & seldom find peace.