(Briefly not because I expect it was or will be cleaned any time soon, but because as soon as another tagger adds their contribution, it will be changed, and therefore gone, in the manner of the Delian ship that retains its conceptual identity while losing all of its essential parts in time…)
Somehow, in whatever order, and however conceived by the artists, we have here a happy collocation of an abstract bird, a cartoon goblin or vampire, the slogan “Fuck the police”, sundry layers of tags in various stages of defacement, and a Pacman-ghost. As all artists among us know, it makes no difference whether the sloganist added her words to the icons elsewhere on the wall, or whether the duck-fancier adorned the rebellious chant with his favourite animal—the end result is all that matters, and is the same either way. L’artiste est mort.
What will interest us for this critique is the juxtaposition of the jaded, counter-cultural chant with the stylised hieroglyph of a constipated duck, and we shall proceed as if the other motifs in this portmanteau were absent (as indeed at one time in the past they may have been, or in the future—or another present—they may be).
The canard, holding itself uncomfortably upright, shoulders hunched as if against the cold, or the misery of days-old white bread lingering in its colon, is facing away from the confrontation, not wanting to get involved, but unable to pretend that it isn’t aware of the problem. Perhaps by keeping its head down, it hopes, it can avoid becoming a victim to the brutality, corruption, prejudice and endemic abusiveness of the Gendarmerie Royale; perhaps by keeping its beak shut, it dreams, it will not be seen as a threat, it will not stand out from the crowd, and it will not be harassed or bullied.
We all know, the artists tell us, that this won’t work, however. Oppression is everywhere; even the act of keeping one’s head down is to fall victim to the chilling hegemony of the constabulary. The silence of the oppressed is the victory of the oppressor. Unable to hide from this fact any more, the duck finally releases its tortured sphincter and shits out a gout of furious words: “Fuck the police!” If it has to die for this rebellion, it will die free, and it will leave the stink of truth on its remorseless killer.
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