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Invasion of the 'autonomous zone'

Winnipeg Free Press

Winnipeg Free Press
Focus, Sunday, November 20, 2005, p. b2

DALLAS HANSEN

A decade ago, when the Mondragn Café opened at 91 Albert Street, that building became known as the Autonomous Zone. Besides the vegan-menu, fair-trade coffee shop and radically leftist bookstore, 91 Albert also housed the headquarters for the G7 Welcoming Committee record label -- home to popular Winnipeg rock groups PropaGandhi and The Weakerthans -- and, later, Arbeiter Ring Publishing, the latter offering such titles as Against the New Authoritarianism and The Grusome Acts of Capitalism.

Thus it's hardly surprising that the occupants of 91 Albert have declined the Exchange District Business Improvement Zone's offers to remove the building's graffiti. Although the subcultures of punk rock and rap music are philosophically worlds apart, the Autonomous Zone's anarchist-inspired tolerance of hip-hop-inspired urban calligraphy can be summed up in a stenciled, spray-painted message on the north side of the building -- along so-called Honeysuckle Alley -- which proclaims the wall a "Fascist-Free Zone."

Given that three successful countercultural businesses -- with adherents around the globe -- were developed from within the graffiti-covered walls of 91 Albert, it seems odd that a city councillor and a Business Improvement Zone would team up to demand that the city "get tough" and take legal action to oblige the A-Zone to clean up its walls. After all, the A-Zone has spent a decade building brand-recognition based on free-thinking resistance to authority -- intolerance for graffiti would damage said brand with a loss of credibility.

What Coun. Mike Pagtakhan and his fellow philistines fail to realize is that today's most avant-garde contemporary art stems from street culture, and that the city's clandestinely decorated alleyways comprise a living museum of these forms. Rather than repel people, graffiti art has made urban neighbourhoods more desirable and attractive. Montral's St. Lawrence Boulevard and Toronto's Queen Street West are two of our country's most popular shopping and entertainment districts; they are also home to some of the densest concentrations of graffiti art. From San Francisco's Twist to New York City's Zephyr, many graffiti artists have enjoyed successful commercial careers; locally, Cose and Concave hold bachelor's degrees in fine arts, and former Winnipegger Dect now owns a Vancouver gallery.

West of Toronto, Winnipeg's old city is Canada's largest, but given our geographical isolation, and the agrarian nature of much of this city's business, a frequent theme of cultural conflict concerns the clashes between urbane innovators and rustic intransigents.

On the one hand, civic leaders delight in pointing to the attention our cultural workers gather upon the world stage; on the other, they scheme policies to stifle them along the way.

Lisa Holowchuk, executive director of the Exchange District BIZ, advocates a policy whereby the city can order businesses to remove graffiti. "We need something with teeth," she has said. Brian Timmerman, the Exchange District BIZ's operations director, believes the city ought to have to right to remove -- without permission -- graffiti on private buildings and subsequently bill owners for the "service."

Incredibly, these intrusive policy notions are originating from an organization whose ostensible mandate is to cut red tape and promote a laissez-faire business environment.

Downtowns do not succeed by replicating suburbia. A successful downtown ought to be somewhat edgy, gritty, filled with character and wonder, even mystery. Who did adorn that dumpster with a stylized signature of a mysterious moniker? What was the inspiration behind that five-colour cartoon character adorning a rooftop wall? These are the ponderings with which I find myself as I stroll the back streets of any big city with cultural merit, and they quickly transform into reveries that translate into an experience I could never have at a sterile shopping mall.

The graffiti explosion of the mid-1990s is one reason I fell in love with Winnipeg's inner city, and its ruthless elimination seemed to me needlessly repressive. It's ironic that those who denounced graffiti in defence of private property rights are now willing to assail those rights to quash what little of the culture here remains.

Dallas Hansen is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

dhansen@truwinnipeg.org


Category: Editorial and Opinions
Uniform subject(s): Laws and regulations; Midwives
Length: Medium, 564 words

© 2005 Winnipeg Free Press. All rights reserved.

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