Heron Arts in San Francisco presents RECLAMATION this August, a two-man show featuring Augustine Kofie and Erik Otto, who transform personal wreckage into fresh work. Forty new pieces, curated by Tova Lobatz, put both artists in a head-on conversation about loss, recovery, and what can be built out of the ashes.
Augustine Kofie. Reclamation. Heron Arts, San Francisco, CA. (image courtesy of the gallery)
Kofie, a Los Angeles veteran with roots in early ’90s graffiti, lost his house, studio, and archive in the Eaton Canyon Fire this January. For some, that would have been the end of the story. Instead, he’s back at it, slicing up pressboard, salvaged posters, and mid-century packaging into collages that look as sharp as they are stubborn. Ever the clever mind, he calls his circles “rotationships”—a way to wrestle with balance and structure—but you can read them as a sign of survival too.
Erik Otto. Reclamation. Heron Arts, San Francisco, CA. (image courtesy of the gallery)
Otto, San Francisco born and bred, comes at it differently. After too many funerals and a body that betrayed him, his response wasn’t to tighten control but to let it go. The new paintings are looser, washed in saturated color and improvised gestures, equal parts grief and grace. Where Kofie rebuilds from fragments, Otto dissolves them, turning shock into hazy atmospheres and flickers of light.
Together, the show is less about tidy closure than about the messy processes of life, loss, and finding some way to reclaim yourself. Rather than sounding the trumpet, it’s two artists working through the rubble in public. In a culture that likes glossy endings, RECLAMATION reminds us that sometimes survival and perseverance look like glue, tape, and a few luminous layers of paint.
Augustine Kofie. Reclamation. Heron Arts, San Francisco, CA. (image courtesy of the gallery)Augustine Kofie. Reclamation. Heron Arts, San Francisco, CA. (image courtesy of the gallery)Erik Otto. Reclamation. Heron Arts, San Francisco, CA. (image courtesy of the gallery)Erik Otto. Reclamation. Heron Arts, San Francisco, CA. (image courtesy of the gallery)
Welcome the BSA Images of the Week! Recent exhibitions, festivals, mural programs, and artist movements demonstrate that street art’s vitality continues to evolve—shifting from unsanctioned and underground to mainstream and institutional, and then back to the public streets. Far from fading, the street art and graffiti movement continues to adapt and engage more people, sparking dialogue about art, culture, creativity, property, politics, and its role in urban life. Our inbox at ABC runs like the city itself: fast, loud, nonstop—thankfully, this deli coffee is strong.
Global Graffiti Festival: The Meeting of Styles international graffiti festival just took over Rruga B Street in Kosovo’s capital, marking its 9th edition in Pristina. The city’s embrace of this festival – and the participation of artists from as far afield as Europe, the Americas, and Asia – underscores how the street art movement continues to span the globe, including places that rarely feature in mainstream art news.
As we speed through block parties, outdoor concerts, graffiti jams, and the end of New York’s summer art scene, we note next month’s arrival of the Gaza Biennale, a roving exhibition spotlighting artists from the embattled Gaza Strip. Previously exhibited in London, Berlin, and Athens, the show is a powerful cultural statement, taking place at 19 venues across 12 cities worldwide. The biennale’s New York iteration will span five days (September 10-14) at the non-profit art space Recess in Brooklyn.
Theatergoers have been flocking to Central Park’s Delacorte Theater for Twelfth Night, starring Peter Dinklage and Sandra Oh – in this New York tradition that’s open to everyone. Fans are lining up hours—even overnight—for free tickets, turning the event into a communal spectacle of Shakespeare for our treacherous time, of this moment.
“If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.” (Twelfth Night, Act III, Scene IV)
Here’s our weekly interview with the street, this week featuring works from Acet, AIC Mosaic, Below Key, Benny CRuz, Hektad, Homesick, JerkFace, Marly McFly, Obey, Paul Richard, Qzar, Sasha Gordon, Shepard Fairey, Tom Bob NYC, and Werds.
In a city like New York, where money is too often mistaken for worth, some know better—and live like it—quietly disproving the myths about success that only reveal their emptiness over time. Here, community and creativity are the true currency, making you richer than you ever imagined. Share.
Cory Jacobs and Jason Schmidt’s short documentary, The Candy Factory, drops you into one of those moments and lets you stay there long enough to feel its gravity. The film traces the story of Ann Ballentine, a Brooklyn landlord who understood that the most valuable thing in a building isn’t its square footage—it’s the people who inhabit it. For four decades, she rented studios in a former candy factory in Clinton Hill to painters, sculptors, musicians, designers, and filmmakers, asking for fair rent and providing something the market has no way to price: stability, trust, and a sense of belonging.
The Candy Factory by The New Yorker. (still from the video)
The tenants and their dedication turned a block into a beacon, making the work that becomes the soul of a neighborhood before the brokers and developers ever think to rename it. In interviews and quiet moments, Jacobs and Schmidt capture their shared history and present reality, weaving together laughter, craft, and resilience. These are not the ornamental “creatives” used to brand a condo brochure or website; they are the lifeblood, the first to arrive and often the first to be pushed out, a profit is to be made.
Ballentine’s defiance was not loud but unwavering. She decided, simply, that she had enough—that her life would be measured not by accumulation but by what she helped to sustain. In New York, that choice is radical. In a market that teaches landlords to extract until nothing is left, she preserved a rare commons where collaboration could outlast the rent cycle. It’s not about romanticism, its about ethics.
The Candy Factory is both a portrait and a document, a reminder that cultural wealth is built slowly, in shared spaces, over decades—and that it can be erased in a single sale.
The Candy Factory by The New Yorker. Chrissy. Painter. Tenant at The Candy Factory. (still from the video)The Candy Factory by The New Yorker. Artwork by Kele, tenant at The Candy Factory. (still from the video)The Candy Factory by The New Yorker. Artwork by Kathy, tenant at The Candy Factory. (still from the video)
Patcharapol Tangruen, also known as Alex Face, is regarded as a quietly thoughtful presence in contemporary street art. Trained in Bangkok in fine and applied arts, he began his practice in the early 2000s, gradually shifting from lettering to a figurative focus. His enduring signature character—a small child in a rabbit suit—carries an emotional weight connecting innocence and contemplation.
Alex Face. Summer 2025 residency at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. (photo courtesy of the gallery)
His work consistently blends the immediacy of Street Art with a calm, painterly sensibility. He can create large-scale public paintings with a sense of focus, embedding his character and imagined story into the environment. His projects have traveled beyond Thailand, appearing across Asia, Europe, and the Americas.
Caminhos Esquecidos is his first fully realized solo show in Portugal, conceived during a residency at The Holdout Art Farm on the Silver Coast. As he pedaled through orchards and along the shoreline, Alex Face translated the subtle light, weathered surfaces, and hushed corners of rural Portugal into ten new paintings. In each, his familiar figure appears as a reflective observer—quietly acknowledging the land, its textures, the lingering stillness.
Alex Face. Summer 2025 residency at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. (photo courtesy of the gallery)Alex Face. Summer 2025 residency at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. (photo courtesy of the gallery)Alex Face. Caminhos Esquecidos. Andenken Gallery at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. Summer 2025. (photo courtesy of the gallery)Alex Face. Caminhos Esquecidos. Andenken Gallery at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. Summer 2025. (photo courtesy of the gallery)Alex Face. Caminhos Esquecidos. Andenken Gallery at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. Summer 2025. (photo courtesy of the gallery)Alex Face. Caminhos Esquecidos. Andenken Gallery at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. Summer 2025. (photo courtesy of the gallery)Alex Face. Camino da Rua Capela. Caminhos Esquecidos. Andenken Gallery at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. Summer 2025. (photo courtesy of the gallery)Alex Face. Moinhos do Rio das Antas. Caminhos Esquecidos. Andenken Gallery at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. Summer 2025. (photo courtesy of the gallery)Alex Face. Esquinas das Casas Brancas. Caminhos Esquecidos. Andenken Gallery at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. Summer 2025. (photo courtesy of the gallery)Alex Face. Ruinas da Rua do Salgueiral. Caminhos Esquecidos. Andenken Gallery at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. Summer 2025. (photo courtesy of the gallery)Alex Face. Kids enjoying Alex’s outdoor painting in Alcobaca. Summer 2025 residency at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. (photo courtesy of the gallery)Alex Face. Completed mural in Alcobaca. Summer 2025 residency at The Holdout Art Farm, Portugal. (photo courtesy of the gallery)
“Flow on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide! Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg’d waves! Gorgeous clouds of the sunset! drench with your splendor me, or the men and women generations after me! Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers!” ~ Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, Walt Whitman, 1860
Here’s our weekly interview with the street, this time featuring Caryn Cast, Chris (Robots Will Kill), Christian Penn, Fumero, Hugus, IMK, James Vance, Jenna Morello, Joao is Typing, Kosuke James, LeCrue Eyebrows, Luch, Mike Shine, Nandos Art, Ninth Wave Studio, Ottograph, Peachee Blue, Prez Arecta, Renek X, and VEW.
Remarkably, the volume of attention directed toward transfolk in some U.S. media and legislation during the most recent decade has been strikingly disproportionate to their size. For example, a 2022 Media Matters study found that Fox News aired over 170 segments about trans people in just three weeks, with fiery verbiage that often framed them as societal threats of some kind. In the same year, over 300 anti-trans bills were introduced across U.S. state legislatures, marking a sharp escalation despite the group’s relatively small size. Influential political figures, such as Florida Governor Ron DeSantis, have made restricting trans healthcare and education content central to their platforms. At the same time, Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito included attacks on LGBTQ+ rights in his opinions, suggesting broader rollback intentions. Meanwhile, religious leaders such as Franklin Graham have labeled gender-affirming care as “evil,” framing trans existence as a cultural battleground.
Amy Sherald. “Trans Forming Liberty”. The New Yorker. Aug. 11, 2025
This painting—featured on the cover of The New Yorker this month—portrays a Black transgender woman striking the pose of the Statue of Liberty. It drew national attention this spring after sparking controversy around its proposed inclusion in Amy Sherald’s exhibition American Sublime at the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery. “Figuration is the Soul Food of art making. It’s like what takes you back home,” says the artist in the video below.
Video via Art21
This barrage of intense emotion focused on such a small segment of society reflects not population size, but the strategic use of trans identity as a political and ideological wedge. By the way they have been preaching and legislating, you’d think trans people were leading an uprising, storming the gates—with nothing but pronouns and self-respect as weapons. More likely, this is a ginned-up outrage that is good for fundraising for religious posers and for getting low-knowledge voters to the polls, now that topics like abortion, gays, guns, and blacks are either too complicated or don’t have the cultural zing they once did.
In this context, a Black trans woman—even in a painting—set off alarms loud enough to derail a major traveling exhibition. When Amy Sherald’s portrait appeared on the cover of The New Yorker, it wasn’t just art critics who noticed; gatekeepers got nervous and jittery. Sherald, best known for her regal portraits that challenge the visual grammar of Black representation, found her work caught in the crossfire of culture war politics. What followed was a quiet act of protest by artists who refused to let reactionary censorship set the terms. This new video enables the work to speak—calm, composed, undeniable. The work speaks for itself.
In his new solo exhibition, MONEY, at London’s BSMT Gallery, Brazilian artist Cranio uses his signature wit – sharpened like a ceremonial blade. Known for his blue-skinned Indigenous protagonist who wanders through this contemporary chaos, Cranio has built a practice over the last two decades that disarms – and provokes.
This time, he’s aiming squarely at the culture of consumerism — and some of the spiritual compromises that come with it. Curated by the gallery team and grounded in satire, MONEY is more critique: it’s a mirror held up to a society sadly tangled in symbols of wealth. He’s also attempting to put a spiritual, intellectual price tag on the price we pay for our enslavement.
Having seen Cranio’s work rise from the walls of São Paulo’s east side to global prominence, it’s clear that his characters are not just visual signatures — they are autobiographical echoes and social barometers. Born Fabio de Oliveira Parnaíba in 1982, Cranio began painting in 1998 as part of the Hip Hop and graffiti culture that shaped a generation of Brazilian artists.
CRANIO (photo courtesy of the BSMT)
His Indigenous figure is no twee caricature; it’s part avatar, part ancestor — navigating globalized landscapes that are layered with complexities of identity, displacement, and resistance. Not heavy on preaching, he presents the conundrum wrapped in its absurdity.
In MONEY, the blue characters wear gold chains, clutch designer bags, and participate in almost religious consumer rituals — not as villains, but as tragicomic stand-ins for all of us. They speak to the slow corrosion of values in a world where meaning is increasingly manufactured.
CRANIO (photo courtesy of the BSMT)CRANIO (photo courtesy of the BSMT)CRANIO (photo courtesy of the BSMT)CRANIO (photo courtesy of the BSMT)
Join BSMT Gallery for the opening night of ‘MONEY’ on August 7th, 2025, from 6-9 pm. The show runs from August 8th to August 24th
Welcome to BSA Images of the Week! It’s the Wild West out here, and there, there, there, and there. Is this deliberate? Does it all have to go up in a fireball, people? Honestly.
Here’s our weekly interview with the street, this time featuring Ben Keller, BIR, Buff Monster, Caleb Neelon, Caryn Cast, Fernando “SKI” Romero, Homesick, Joe Iurato, Kam. S. Art., Katie Yamasaki, Loky Oner, Marco Checcheto, NAST 404, Paul Richard, Porkshop, RUDE, Sky Adler, Wild West, and Yo Skills.
CYCLES Madrid – Spain, 2025 I spy a guy who used to do conceptual murals and now does kinetic sculpture. Madrid-based artist SpY began his career with clever, often humorous street interventions that disrupted everyday urban routines—turning public space into a stage for reflection and play. Over the years, his work has shifted from ephemeral gestures to ambitious sculptural installations, without losing the conceptual sharpness.
His newest piece, Cycles, debuts in Madrid – Composed of nine stainless-steel rings stacked in delicate balance, the kinetic sculpture rotates continuously, creating a hypnotic display of shifting forms and optical illusions. What appears to be a static figure one moment becomes a blur of layered motion. The piece invites viewers to question what’s stable and what’s in flux— time and movement blended as sculptural elements in themselves.
There’s a quiet tension to it all: minimal material, maximal effect. In this transition from walls to mechanical choreography, SpY stays true to his roots—reviewing what we perceive as space, systems, and being alive in the moment.
Bartek Świątecki’s “Fireflies” Illuminates a Memory From New York in a Polish Cityscape
Known for his abstract compositions that balance precision and spontaneity, Bartek Świątecki has consistently pushed the visual language of urban abstraction. His walls—featured several times on Brooklyn Street Art—often reflect a dynamic interplay of geometry, layering, and movement, evoking rhythm and structure without relying on figuration.
His newest mural, painted in Olsztyn, Poland, carries a personal connection to a recent moment far from home. “I’m sending you my new summer wall from Olsztyn, Poland. I’ve named it Fireflies,” Świątecki tells us.
“During my last trip to New York with my wife, we spent an evening in Central Park. We spread a blanket on the grass, and fireflies began to appear around us. It was a magical moment—in the heart of the city, surrounded by these tiny, twinkling lights, we felt like we were in a completely different world.”
It’s a fitting gesture: in Świątecki’s work, urban density and openness coexist. Here, as in New York’s Central Park, there’s a sense of quiet order amid the unpredictable, a space where something fleeting and luminous might appear.
“I decided to name my new wall ‘Fireflies’ in honor of that moment—that fusion of nature and city, that subtle magic that can be found even in the midst of chaos.“
This week’s collection leans toward graffiti—city writers rekindling a romance with old styles, tracing our urban aesthetic lineage with fresh hands, new eyes, and scribes. Beyond that, the crime stats continue their long downward drift, despite some corporate outlets insisting our city is in daily chaos, as if Bedlam had moved in. Immigrants are valued members of New York’s sense of community and multi-culture, as ever, but a strangely well-funded machine would have you think differently- if they could. NYC is far more youthful, open-hearted, and innovative than that kind of thinking can imagine.
National heaviness seeps into the local air: relentless headlines, instability abroad, inhumanity and warmaking, higher costs, service cuts to some of the most in need, attacks on institutions—and on your search for sanity. You can feel it rumbling like the subway underneath: a slow, grinding disquiet, the weight of evident inequalities, the steady drip of absurdity and distraction.
Maybe that’s why the streets speak in heightened tones: sometimes glorious, other times surreal, opaque, saccharine, macabre. Rage simmers alongside wistful nostalgia. Escapism too. As old certainties dissolve, strange new forms begin to emerge. The atmosphere feels charged—thick with tension, possibility, change.
Everyone agrees New York is hot this summer—oppressively so—until, suddenly, there’s a breeze, a clear sky, and you exhale. Let’s go for a walk. How much of what is seen is real? How much is perception? How much is projection? Hard to say. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s all part of the picture.
Here’s our weekly interview with the street, this week including Couch, D30, Dopamine, Homesick, Jappy Agoncillo, Kam S. Art, KEG, Nekst (tribute), RatchiNYC, Sefu, SMLZ, Sower Kerd, Wild West, and Zoot.
Street art reflects the aspirations, connections, and conflicts of society back to us—often unfiltered and always direct. That’s the case with “No Pain, No Flowers,” a striking new installation by Italian artist Bifido, created for the MIAU Fanzara festival in Spain. The wheatpasted photo-portrait features a teenage girl with facial piercings, caught in a moment that feels emotionally raw and universally familiar. She’s defiant yet fragile, bright but uncertain—a portrait of adolescence that hits with clarity, and rings true.
Known for his emotionally resonant paste-ups, Bifido has appeared on Brooklyn Street Art numerous times over the years. Based in Naples, he is celebrated for using photography to explore youth, vulnerability, and psychological tension. Children and teenagers are his recurring subjects, and his work often channels a personal, autobiographical undercurrent: “I am drawn to the anxieties, melancholy, expectations, fragilities, and turmoil of that age in relation to society and its absurd rules.”
MIAU Fanzara, held annually in a small village of about 250 residents, has become a rare model for community-centered urban art. With no corporate sponsorship and no censorship, artists are hosted by local families, creating a powerful sense of shared experience. As Bifido puts it, “It’s a place where urban art truly connects with the local fabric.” With no brand managers or gatekeeping curators calling the shots, the lineup hits closer to the kind of unfiltered street art you see in the wild.
“I am drawn to the anxieties, melancholy, expectations, fragilities, and turmoil of that age in relation to society and its absurd rules.”
When confronted with this larger-than-life face on the street, it’s clear that the mural draws its power from Bifido’s unwavering authenticity. This is not a retouched Photoshopped or AI-generated confection. You’ve met this person in your life, at your school, or in your living room at home. Additionally, the artist isn’t speaking from a distant, sociological standpoint only – he is channeling lived experience. In the context of the festival, Bifido’s autobiographical approach meshes with the open, authentic environment of Fanzara. The portrait’s model might be a specific girl, but in a sense, she is every young person (and the young version of each of us). By placing her image in the streets, Bifido turns the town into a gallery of real life – precisely the kind of integration of art and daily experience that MIAU Fanzara champions.
This new piece lives on Calle Purísima, suddenly appearing among the winding streets of Fanzara, now home to more than 100 murals from artists across the globe. In this intimate setting, Bifido’s portrait blooms not just as a visual artwork, but as a symbol of resilience. The title “No Pain, No Flowers” suggests a hard truth: beauty often comes from struggle. Yes, darling. Bring me my flowers.
Street art welcomes all manner of materials and methods, typically deployed without permission and without apology. This hand-formed wire piece …Read More »