A conversation with Pulsar Sinaps by Elvira Lupșa

Pulsar Sinaps is a transdisciplinary artist based in Bucharest. His creative practice is very broad, embracing painting, sculpture, murals, graffiti and music. He is also a resident tattoo artist at Sweet Damage Tattoo. In 2017, together with artist Kaput (aka OHBOY), Pulsar Sinaps formed KAPS CREW. Since then, they’ve completed more than 40 murals around Romania. 

Elvira Lupșa is an art agent and producer. Through her business identity UNICAT & co, she is committed to the contextualisation of contemporary art in unusual settings. She is also the host of the talk series CreativeMornings Bucharest and co-founder of the alternative space Insula 42. 

Below we share a discussion that attempts to better define some of the creative dynamics visible on the streets of Romania today.

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Elvira Lupșa: First of all, do you consider yourself a graffiti writer? 

Pulsar Sinaps: I’m a visual artist and I consider graffiti to be part of this spectrum. I experiment with gestural writing and then I analyse it. In that sense, I’m more of a ‘post-graffer’.

E. L.: Is there a clear delineation between graffiti and street art? What happens to graffiti when it becomes institutionalised? For example, when it becomes accredited, when the author is no longer anonymous and the context directs them towards creating in a more ‘directed’ way, or to a precise brief?

P. S.: It may sound strange, but for me street art is a completely separate phenomenon to graffiti. Graffiti looks a certain way, and it is therefore mainly judged by its appearance. Only recently has it become the subject of a more conceptual and social analysis. On the other hand, the popularisation of street art came with the proliferation of stencils and had little to do with graffiti. 

E. L.: How so? 

P. S.: The term itself started to circulate extensively when artists like Blek Le Rat or Banksy began to popularise stencils. Moreover, ‘street art’ has an activist or social commentary component mixed into the formal use of stencils. 

E. L.: You need to be quite proficient to execute an elaborate style fast enough to avoid being caught, so stencils seem like a practical choice; they can be worked and refined as much as needed before they’re exhibited on the street… 

P. S.: That depends. Using stencils means you have to carry cardboard with you, so you attract attention. Besides, there are other media that belong to street art too - like paste-ups [graphic works on paper or card pasted onto a wall] and stickers - which I feel are reminiscent of skate culture or punk. 

E. L.: ...and what is the link? 

P. S.: Historically, graffiti was strongly rooted in hip hop and the lifestyle associated with it. Street art transcends this musical association. In a way, rock or punk also relate to street art. The stylistic influences of street art are broad, from skate illustrations, comic books, sticker culture, posters and many others. And with time, street art and graffiti naturally started to cohabit… 

E. L.: ...and eventually became a hybrid? 

P. S.: Yes and no. Many graffers hung out with rockers and punks, so inevitably their aesthetics started to mix too. This happened later on though as ‘pure graffiti’ is a very separate movement to this. I see street art as figurative, with a social, political or cultural commentary attached to it. Furthermore, street art messages tend to be written clearly and legibly using recognisable letters, in contrast to the individual gestural style used in graffiti.

E. L.: So, street art messages can easily be read and understood by a wider audience... 

P. S.: Exactly. With graffiti, the artist wants to be seen as an individual, whereas with street art, the aim is for the message and art to be seen. Moreover, with graffiti you’re identified and valued mostly by the other graffers, as opposed to a larger public, who are the target audience with street art. 

Grafitti ecompasses many things, vandalism being just a part of it.

Pulsar Sinaps

E. L.: Still, there’s now a growing interest and audience for graffiti. To come back to my question about the institutionalisation of this ‘pure graffiti’ you mentioned: do you think a museum or gallery exhibition could ever be called a ‘graffiti exhibition’? Is graffiti necessarily rooted in illegality and ephemerality, with the street as a canvas? 

P. S.: That depends very much on how you define graffiti... 

E. L.: I can’t seem to reach a precise definition, hence all my questions. So, what is Graffiti? 

P. S.: Well, graffiti could mean just the formal representation of lettering, the styling of letters. In this example, a museum exhibition could be considered a ‘graffiti exhibition’ in the sense of a study and display of lettering works only for formal consideration. However, if you define graffiti also as a performance - the act of going outside and writing gesturally - then you can’t make ‘pure graffiti’ inside an institution. 

E. L.: Because it’s removed from its defining medium and environment? Perhaps we can draw a parallel with the idea of a performance art exhibition composed solely of the documentation of past performances, without the performative element itself…

P. S.: Yes, indeed. It would be an exhibition consisting only of reproductions or representations of graffiti. 

E. L.: The performative aspect - let’s call it ‘enacting graffiti’, definitely adds a second pillar to its definition, along with the formal study of the alphabet. I also see a third aspect – the ego – which manifests through the repetition of signatures and the onslaught of self-promotion. I see the graffer as a self-identified unique figure, almost a romantic figure, in the sense that Romanticism defined the artist as a genius with a particular, non-replicable voice. 

P. S.: What you mention has a name: it’s ‘fame’. 

E. L.: Can this fame be quantified? For example, with each piece earning a ‘point’, plus ‘bonus points’ depending on its visibility and the difficulty of accessing the surface? 

P. S.: In some ways, yes. 

E. L.: So, is it possible to reconcile the importance of fame and the idea of community around graffiti? I felt a real sense of community recently when Galeria Neagră organised a fundraiser show for the graffer ENOC. 

P. S.: From a historical point of view, back in NY, the prime drive for graffiti was to say ‘look at us and at our suffering’ in the context of extreme social marginalisation. The movement began on the subway because it was the only platform that would arrive in the centre of the city and be visible to other layers of society. The original graffers wanted to transmit information, to communicate their hardship. 

E. L.: So, it actually had a social component originally, just like street art? 

P. S.: Yes. Moreover, most of the subway cars had stories and messages amidst the name - tags. Only when social tensions slightly weakened people’s resolve to go out, draw and be seen, did individuality take over, without a cohesive social agenda. 

E. L.: But over the last few decades, hasn’t there been a fusion between a neo-capitalistic ethos and the arts in general - not just graffiti? The idea of the individual and self-promoting artist took hold when the importance of style became prevalent and self-branding became common practice for artists everywhere. 

P. S.: Yes, in a way. It became less about the community. I was referring previously to the community of ‘pure graffiti’ before it started to migrate and change. 

E. L.: You mean in the ‘70s and ‘80s? 

P. S.: In the ‘80s, in America. In Europe it flourished in the ‘90s, with a high point in the 2000s, when the idea of ‘style’ became prevalent. That’s also when technological advancements brought high quality sprays to a mass market. 

E. L.: But is there a graffiti community in Romania? 

P. S.: It’s hard to say. I think the important thing to consider is that graffiti is made more often by ‘crews’ than by individuals acting alone. 

E. L.: Like ‘micro-communities’ perhaps? 

P. S.: Yes. People who represent the same name and draw together. But I think the idea of a ‘community’ in this context is something new. People who have different aesthetics and different values working and building something together is not yet that common. 

E. L.: But in recent years we’ve witnessed many graffiti artists working together - on a mural for example. How does muralism fit into all this? In my attempts to build a taxonomy of art of the streets, I’ve identified three categories under the broader term ‘public art’: graffiti, street art and muralism - with graffiti and street art being the unofficial, often illegal, side of public art. 

P. S.: Yes… Murals were always officially part of public art. I think the only change that made contemporary muralism cool for young people is that it is done in spray paint. Graffers, who were in the shadows before, started to appear and create these works. For me, muralism is muralism, regardless of whether it’s made with spray, brush and paint, fresco etc. A mural is a painting on a wall. 

E. L.: Graffiti isn’t generally accepted as ‘public’ art though; graffiti, street art and muralism are not the same thing, they’re like spheres that connect but they’re not interchangeable terms and practices. 

P. S.: No, indeed not. Sometimes the only connection between them is the person, perhaps an artist who drew graffiti in the past, and now paints murals. 

All muralists who want to survive financially have to draw girls and flowers.

Pulsar Sinaps

E. L.: So why do you think muralism became fashionable in Romania recently – i.e. decades after it invaded the walls and cities of so many other countries? 

P. S.: I think there is a ‘thirst’ factor. Many people travelled a lot, saw what was happening elsewhere and thought ‘this could happen here too’. Seeing art on walls in other countries makes you think about the meaning of ‘civilization’… and then you return to Romania and see all this grey and think of how backwards we are! There is culture on the walls - populist culture indeed - but still culture; with a mural, people don’t have to go to a gallery to see it. 

E. L.: This for me is the most positive aspect of this new wave of murals: art is made more accessible to people. There’s an unlimited audience that doesn’t have to go to a specific place - often an intimidating space like a gallery - because art is being brought to them, in places they already frequent. 

P. S.: I think there’s actually a reverse trend in Romania. In other places, where cultural consumption was a common practice, street art became yet another outlet for expression in the midst of many other options, an extension of the gallery scene. Here, I feel maybe people were encouraged to start going to galleries as a result of seeing outdoor art.

E. L.: Trying to frame the definition even further, do you think it matters that the ephemerality of graffiti disappeared with the rise of Instagram? Now works live online for posterity, even if they’re covered by new tags or renovations in the material world. 

P. S.: The hard truth is that no graffer wants their piece to disappear. When you make something, you want it to exist as long as possible. No one thinks it’s cool that a graffiti piece is ephemeral – that’s just a consequence of the practice. 

E. L.: So now artists base their practice on photographing their work; documentation has become part of the process. 

P. S.: Exactly. It’s also why legal walls are unexpectedly popular. Graffers are eager to use them even if their work disappears after a day or two, because they snap pictures and build their archive. Archiving is extremely important for graffiti. For instance, in train writing you may never see the piece again, you only own the action - those moments when you paint - plus the photographic record. 

E. L.: So, the definition gets another spin: the importance of documentation, similar to performance art. They seem more connected than I’d realised. The ‘happening’ lives on only through photographs. 

P. S.: Graffiti exists precisely because of documentation. Moreover, Instagram brought a new direction to graffiti, as some artists make a piece with the specific intention of posting it online, often in animated form. 

E. L.: Is this then what we can define as ‘post-graffiti’?

P. S.: Yes. Post-graffiti is rooted in an interest in ‘how graffiti works’, a critical study of graffiti. It takes the approach used in graffiti and transmits it to any visual composition, as opposed to just letters. It’s the enhanced version of the original drive to make graffiti: be original, have your own visual style, be innovative - like [the example of] animated graffiti. 

E. L.: I keep coming back to the idea that graffiti is related to Romanticism. Now that you have access to a huge volume of works you’d never have seen without online documentation, are there Romanian graffiti artists you follow and admire? 

P. S.: Two artists immediately come to mind: Homeboy LDJ and Skeny, aka Trash But Fresh. Homeboy LDJ is based in Brașov, and the story goes that Romanian graffiti started outside of Bucharest - there is a debate between Brașov and Bacău. 

E. L.: Can you clarify what you meant when you said ‘graffiti appeared’ in Romania? Are you referring to lettering on the streets? 

P. S.: Lettering on the street, yes. Illegally made, usually with spray paint. I think it was linked to the German influence on the region, one of many ideas and practices migrating from the West. 

E. L.: Does graffiti influence your studio work? 

P. S.: It does. I’m working on an analysis of identity through formal research and study for my upcoming solo show, but I don’t make graffiti in my studio; I make paintings.

E. L.: Aren’t graffiti works paintings too? Graffiti is also paint applied on a surface through a creative act…

P. S.: No. Paintings are objects, whereas graffiti does not produce an object. For me, graffiti was a stepping-stone to fine art. I started painting graffiti, then I realised I wanted more, I wanted something else. 

E. L.: Did you also want to reach a different audience? 

P. S.: I try to be aware of the public and how they might receive my pieces, especially commissioned murals. In the beginning, I delivered sketches exactly the way I wanted them to be. After multiple refusals you develop a sense of public taste and to avoid wasting time and effort, you learn to adapt. 

E. L.: I feel we’re living in a ‘patron-driven’ creative context where the aesthetic influence is, paradoxically, in the hands of the commissioners – or buyers - to put it in more capitalistic terms. There’s a big difference between making a painting and sending it out into the world to be viewed and judged vs. producing something that follows a brief… Given that almost all murals are some sort of commission, a consequence of this is that what the public gets to see depends in no small part on the educational level, openness and cultural capital of the people who have the resources (i.e. walls and money) to commission the murals. 

P. S.: This is true. All muralists who want to survive financially have to draw girls and flowers. This happens even in contexts that are supposed to be creatively free. I always think of this when I hear about a ‘street art festival’. It drives me crazy - no one makes ‘street art’ - they make murals. I don’t understand why organisers don’t use this term. In Romania there is very little street art - we have graffiti and murals… although as KAPS CREW we did make one mural in Sibiu that bridges the gap between graffiti and muralism. 

E. L.: Conceptually yes, it incorporates a study of lettering. 

P. S.: And formally too… It looks and feels like graffiti, or maybe post-graffiti. The aesthetic is very important in graffiti; there isn’t much of a conceptual aspect to it, it’s about an inner drive. It is something very romantic actually, as you said. 

What happens to graffiti when [...] it becomes accredited, when the author is no longer anonymous and the context directs them towards creating in a more 'directed' way, or to a precise brief?

Eliva Lupșa

E. L.: OK, I get it! So what ‘drives’ the artist is what differentiates street art, graffiti and muralism?  What I don’t yet understand is how to categorise simple tags. For example, if I write ‘Elvira’ on the street without consideration for lettering or ‘hand style’, where does that ‘drive’ come from? 

P. S.: To my mind there’s a difference between vandalism and graffiti. Your example is pure vandalism, maybe proto-graffiti. Graffiti encompasses many things, vandalism being just a part of it. Tags, throw-ups, [another form of tagging] bombs, block letters, pieces, wild styles... all of these are graffiti, all of these evolved from the styling of letters and from the same ‘drive’. 

E. L.: I see that the study of lettering is also essential to the definition of graffiti… 

P. S.: Maybe. Simple tags fall under the ‘street art’ definition. For me at least, a lack of lettering style excludes it from being considered graffiti. Or maybe simple tags are just pure vandalism (destruction being the drive), whereas what drives graffiti is different; it has a formal study to it beyond the egocentric writing of your chosen name. It’s about being part of a movement also. The intention (what you want to achieve) and the drive (what instinctively motivates you to do it) are the two key factors that differentiate between vandalism, graffiti, street art and muralism. The written content is actually irrelevant; it’s your style that’s your signature. I’d recognise my crew partner, OHBOY, whatever he wrote. I’m definitely more attached to a passion for aesthetics than to vandalism, or just being outrageous. For this reason, I don’t consider myself to be purely a graffiti writer. 

E. L.: Let’s return to my first question. What then is graffiti? 

P. S.: Perhaps the lack of clear definition is because graffiti is an ongoing practice, evolving and changing. Graffiti is actually the biggest artistic movement in history - and it’s still running its unpredictable course. 

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Elvira Lupșa in conversation with Pulsar Sinaps, August 2022