Street Art: Indoors

Invasion, Champ de Mars, 7th Arr.

In the 1990s, street artist Invader began affixing tiled images of "pixelated" video game characters to structures in Paris. As of today, there are more than 4,000 little appliqué invaders in 82 different cities--and another that made it aboard the International Space Station.

Like other street artists such as Banksy or Shepard Fairey, Invader's popularity has propelled him (all indications are that Invader is a him) from strictly guerrilla to mainstream, with public commissions and now, in Paris, a dedicated indoor museum space. If you admire street art largely for its audacity--the surreptitious entry into private spaces, usually under the cover of darkness, at great risk of arrest for trespassing or sustaining bodily harm in falls from ledges, ladders, and other high altitude precipices--this is a letdown. But cheer up; there was not much in the installation to interest any art collectors/speculators. No original invaders had been removed and relocated to the museum space, a grubby, old, 9-story former parking garage without even an elevator. There wasn't even really a gift shop, a first, perhaps for any museum.

Limited edition #598 of the 1,500 piece Paris set, mint condition with matching numbers, clean title and documented provenance. $erious inquiries only.

These would have sold like crazy in the non-existent gift shop.

Instead, the installation mainly focuses on how the invasions happen--with videos showing how pieces are constructed and installed--and livestreams/user-uploaded photos showing daily life going on around the world under the shadow of our alien overlords. It's fun and engaging in the same way as stumbling across an invader in the wild; after awhile, the sheer volume and variety of pieces, and the creativity that goes into matching the right invader to the right location, builds up the anticipation of the next sighting.

On the other hand, I may not have a knack for recognizing a marketable work of art. Perhaps if I'd been raised by carnival sideshow barkers or initiated into the Thuggee sect I could spot an easy mark for a sweet grift.

Because in fact, there was one original tile installation, on a ninth floor balcony, and large enough to be visible on google earth (I am sure that placing a guerrilla artist's outdoor installation off-limits to visitors was intentionally ironic). It would not surprise me to learn that at this very moment, a shell company registered in the Caribbean was making moves to purchase the entire building on behalf of some shady oligarch (of either the Russian or Silicon Valley variety).

Copyright, trademark, all rights reserved, private property, no trespassing, keep out, hands off, release the hounds.

At any rate, it's a museum that takes fun seriously. And as often happens, I enjoyed some of the filler displays at least as much as, or more than, the marquee attractions. The reproductions of classic album art and movie posters made from Rubik's cube pieces were both clever and in keeping with the tile motif.

Scarier and/or sexier the further back you stand.

Invader was also kind enough to display some of his personal collections of artworks. Like the invasion project itself, the careful curation of thematic items can enhance their impact beyond the sum of the individual works. This is especially true when each item--in this case, tiny, plastic gumball machine figurines--is itself a masterpiece, all which contribute to a Super Masterpiece.

 

I hope I never outgrow my appreciation for truly great Art.