Ahh, Sydney. Fast becoming the world’s premiere destination for timely, topical street art.
By now we’ve already seen the majesty that is artist Scott Marsh‘s brand spanking new #CasinoMike mural in Chippendale.
A brutal assessment of the much maligned Lockout Laws, to be sure.
But what might not be picked up on at first glance is the sheer layering of the piece; a true and deep commentary on Sydney life writ large.
Strap yourselves in as we take a journey inside the mural’s many elements.
Firstly, gaze upon it in all its daytime glory:
Magnificent, isn’t it. But let’s dive in.
Firstly, the hellish timepiece hanging menacingly above Baird‘s head reminding him, and us, that time is the one and only constant, and that all action is therefore meaningless. Death, dear friends, is inevitable.
Next, the kebab being clutched by Mike’s bloody knuckles; perilously gripped on a 45 degree angle, with the bitten-in corner pointed down, exposing the dishes innards and running the risk of severe tzatziki spillage, and that crazy sonofamama is just smiling like he doesn’t give a shit if he gets garlic sauce on his dacks. A true madman. Exactly the kind of one that would truly believe a late night kebab store is a secret magnet for violence.
The knuckles are the tell here. A stark contrasting red, displaying a bloody hand clasping at the throat of small business. The executioner’s blade in this case is not a sword or a guillotine, but a melding of barbecued meat and sauce. Death is inevitable.
The casino chips represent a stark commentary on the nature of capitalism and money; that we as humans only covet wealth through the arbitrary value we place on it; that money takes on many forms, all of them insidious; that the one great lie of man is that accumulating worth is the only path to happiness; that the pursuit of wealth is a fool’s errand; that death is inevitable.
The Penfold’s Grange, at face value, can appear to be a sly quip thrown at former NSW Premier Barry O’Farrell, as Baird now sits smugly in the throne he usurped from his predecessor. But a closer reading reveals hidden meanings about our inherent need for vices, such as drinking and smoking, in order to mask the unbearable experience of being, and to provide some relief from the crushing process of wrestling with our own mortalities, because death is inevitable.
The simultaneous smoking and drinking is the real dagger through the heart of all Sydneysiders, whose struggles to do one, let alone both, in any public place is being met with clear ambivalence from the ruling class the people elected. The average working joe cannot have a beer and a dart at the end of a hard day. But Mike Baird can from atop his ivory tower. He, drunk on power, wine, and nicotine, can do all of these things whenever he wants. Because for him, the rules don’t apply. And for us, death is inevitable.
Finally, the looming visage of Biggie Smalls glaring menacingly over an otherwise unsuspecting Mike, providing a grim spectre and reminding him that, just like Biggie, one day Baird’s time will come too. As will all of ours. Death is inevitable.
Or, to put all of this into the TL;DR version, art is a lie and nothing is real.
This has been your trip through the cultural world of art, brought to you by your pals at PEDESTRIAN.TV.
Photo: The Jugernauts/Instagram.
