For a fifth year running, Puma Urban Arts festival descended on Buenos Aires at the start of March. For the youth of the city it provided a free fiesta to view local urban art, watch documentaries, and listen to speeches from international street artists, all to the backdrop of live music from up and coming bands.
For Puma, this affiliation with the urban scene is evidently a source of great pride. In their leaflet for the event they nostalgically reminisce of the late 1960s when the brand was associated with the b-boys, breakdancing on the streets of New York wearing iconic Puma suede shoes. But as the title of the event suggests, urban art is now taking centre stage for the brand.
Street artist Martin Varbaro Campili works on a live paint mural. (Photo: Natasha Ali)
Moving around the festival, listening to new wave punk and experimental rock, looking at lo-fi photos of the Californian skate scene, it seems as though all the hipsters of Buenos Aires have flooded into Centro Cultural Recoleta for the weekend. But why does Puma feel that this subversive form of art is such a consumer driver that it will restore the creditability of those golden years?
Brands have always looked to the street as a way to sell to younger markets; at the same time, street trends have adopted certain brands as a hallmark of their movement. Take late 80s hip-hop movement, when sportswear brands dominated the urban fashion-scape – Run DMC were practically sponsored by Adidas. But more recently, it seems that advertisers are recognising that the art of subtly and self-discovery is more rewarding for consumers. In the age of youtube, twitter and blogging, uncovering underground culture has more appeal than ever. And street art, with its rebellious undertones and complicated relationship with the law, is perfect for this trend.
Fede, who is part of local street art collective Run Don’t Walk, says more and more brands are using graffiti as marketing: “It happens a lot, when some movement, whether it is art or musical, brings something fresh, new, and original, the brands want to use it.” He points out that in advertising and graphic design, even though they are not painting on walls, graffiti style and techniques are often imitated.
A wide range of products are marketed using graffiti designs, from Nissan’s über-urban Qashqui car, to Müller’s youthful yogurts, both of which strive to fit with modern street cultures.
For boardroom corporates, it is akin to living on the edge, without actually crossing the line. Street art is still illegal, although in cities like Buenos Aires you might be hard pressed to believe it. Brands are associating themselves with an underground movement without actually committing the crime.
Nick Pope, who works in digital marketing, has previously worked on graffiti campaigns and explains that, from an advertising perspective, graffiti is attractive “when companies are looking for creative ways of communicating with people and branding throughout the city.”
“It gives the impression your brand is up to date, funky and cool, and shows that your brand is creative. The brands are piggy backing on what they see as an underground and cool trend,” he adds.
But how do street artists themselves feel about corporate brands mimicking their style? When a mega electronics company carried out a guerrilla graffiti campaign in Buenos Aires it didn’t sit well with Minuchin. A number of stencilled squares painted on street walls around trendy Palermo reference mainstream music and carry a small Panasonic logo; a green square on a side street with the word DAY written across it, a black square on a commercial road, with SABBATH emblazoned on it. But it is the ‘DEEP’ Purple square that has really annoyed Fede. In a spot in Palermo where he had painted a mural, he returned to find an advertisement for Panasonic sprayed on top.
Panasonic advertisement in Palermo. (Photo: Natasha Ali)
“It’s not as if someone had just gone and painted over the top – that’s the nature of the street, that’s how it works. You can’t expect your piece to be there forever, but I don’t like that a brand has gone and painted over [my work].” Fede reasoned.
“I think it’s weird that they are doing illegal advertisement… They are taking advantage of how free the city is, that you are able to just go and express yourself. But they are expressing a message which is a commercial message.”
From Politics to Commercial Tricks
This subversive form of advertising is particularly contrary to the street art scene in Buenos Aires, given its history. Guerrilla graffiti became particularly popular during the 1950s and 60s, when support for political parties was shown by stencilling of logos and slogans. Stencils were utilised because people could quickly spray on the wall and leave before getting caught, even though during Juan Domingo Perón’s presidency, the painting of populist slogans were unofficially encouraged.
Even today, political messages are strewn across walls in the city. One man’s house in Palermo proudly pledges his allegiance to president Cristina Fernández de Kirchner by covering the entire outside wall with her quotes, particularly the word ‘El’ – Fernández’ referral to her deceased husband Nestor Kirchner, with the Godlike capitalisation of the ‘E’.
But during the 1976-1983 military dictatorship, any form of protest was uniformly banned, and street art, as an expression of freedom against confinement, ceased in the city. It was not until after Argentina’s 2001 economic crash, when the country was plunged into depression, that the artists took to the street again to try to add some colour to a very dark time.
Fede’s street art ethics inclines to this more socially-conscious objective. “When I paint, I don’t even sign the wall. I think it’s more romantic when you don’t know who or why. When someone just comes across something and it gets you thinking. When you paint on the city, it’s like, it doesn’t belong to you anymore.”
This is not to say that street art is a hallow ground where only political or philosophical statements can be made; essentially it creates an open museum for anyone to enjoy.
Fede’s objection is that “there is so much visual pollution with billboards and advertisement everywhere, we don’t need walls painted as well.” He elaborates: “there is already too much information on billboards advertisements already, telling you what you can do, how you have to be, what you have to buy.”
(Photo: Natasha Ali)
It is not just Panasonic who is using this trend of guerrilla marketing murals. Worldwide, this is a phenomenon that companies as large as McDonalds, Toyota, and movie campaigns have used. Telephone giant Movistar has one in Palermo, a hotspot for both street art and consumerism.
Some brands have recognised the potential clash with street art philosophy, and have shown intentions to preserve it. Instead of using graffiti as a selling point, they benefit from association instead. Puma, Red bull and Coca Cola have put on events where the focus was giving local street artists exposure. All three companies rented spaces for the artists to paint on and around, establishing a more two-way relationship.
“They are pushing their product by being connected or related to this movement. They support the artists, but they also get something back, by being connected,” says Fede. “But there are different ways [of working with street artist]. Renting space for artists to paint on is one way, I think it is very different from having your products seen in the street as if it was street art.”
Another graffiti artist, Martín Varbaro, recognises the beneficial exposure that being associating with brands can bring. “It’s important for an artist because people can see your work and it’s also promotion. It’s perfect. 20,000 people come through here in two days!” he said, while painting a mural for the Puma art festival.
There is an element of catch-22 about it all. Brands may give artists good publicity, put money in their pockets and generate greater appreciation for an art form that is often demonised (see the very funny, clever street art documentary ‘Vigilante, Vigilante: The Battle for Expression’ for more on this). But by doing so are they corrupting a movement born out anarchism and freedom of expression, turning it into a corporatised entity? After all, street art is about accessibility, community, audience interaction and social representation. Building on the movement is entirely different to exploiting it.
After all the money Puma put into the Urban Festival, did it make the visitors want to buy the brand? “Not really,” said Alassandra Nadal, 19, as she looks down at her Vans. “I just don’t like their style.” In the end, no amount of street credibility will convince someone to wear trainers if they are ugly.
