The Streets of London

I love the Tate. I could spend a day in the V&A. And all those towering canvases in the National Gallery leave me in open-mouthed awe. But for me the place to head for fresh and exciting artwork is not the famous galleries. It's the street.

Graffiti, tagging, street art... call it what you like but one thing is for sure - it's everywhere.

Today I had set out on the hunt for stylish people to photograph for my university project. Camera in hand I headed to Portobello Road. However, after an endless batallion of 'cool' clones in rolled up trousers (seriously, aren't your ankles cold?), granny jumpers, loafers and geek glasses I got bored and headed off down a side street where I had spotted some interesting looking graffiti.

I love graffiti. The way people use illicit images to change their streets, make their mark and vent their angst fascinates me. Never mind conceptual and highly acclaimed masterpieces - this to me is art in its rawest form. People breaking out of the mold and climbing walls and scaling buildings in order to create.

Not everyone sees it like that, however. This is a wall just off Portobello Road as it looked last week...

And here it is today. Perhaps it's just me, but that blank wall looks very sad.

Not all street art is graffiti, however. At Portobello Road a whole street has been decorated with vintage vinyl spines as part of Royal Borough's Portobello Wall Arts Project.

Walking around Ladbroke Grove I spied some graffiti over the top of a wall, yet to my disappointment the area was completely surrounded by a high fence and chained gates. For a split second I was seriously tempted to climb over the fence to get a better look. I would like to say that a deeply ingrained sense of the law is what stopped me. In reality I didn't like the thought of clambering up a wall in a dress and with my beloved camera slung around my neck.

Instead I peeked through the bars at the abandoned area beyond. It looked like a graffiti artist's playground.

Peering through the bars made me think about the sense of mystery created by graffiti itself. One day a wall will be blank, the next it will have been 'tagged'. How and when does the transformation take place? Who did it? Why? Because that's the thing about street art - the artists are usually anonymous, wandering around silently painting their city.

'No Tate Britain' and 'One Foot in the Grove' read this graffiti at Ladbroke Grove.

Businesses seem to be getting in on the act too; I have seen several painted vans like this popping up around London as well as graffiti decorating shop fronts. The interesting thing is its not just the hip vintage stores that you would expect - but dentists, opticians and shoe repair shops taking style inspiration from the streets.

Photographing graffiti is like setting out on a treasure hunt. I love finding signature images and spotting them as they pop up again and again, however small they may be.

We have reached an interesting place where graffiti artists are now selling their work. What initially started as illegal rebellion can now been bought in shops like this one, 'Graffik' on Portobello Road, and hung up in your home.

Shops like these celebrate the creativity of artists whose work colour our lives. Few people will ever own a Picasso or a Damien Hirst. Graffiti takes art off the wall and onto the streets, weaving it into our daily journeys. Maybe the police might disagree, but I think that is something work celebrating.

Libby

Believe in the Spraycan

Yesterday I went West. Today I roamed closer to my home in Hackney, exploring Brick Lane and even fitting in a quick trip to my favourite Sunday destination: Columbia Road.

In my Notting Hill fantasies I wear designer clothes and drive a mini. When I think about my ideal East London pad, however, it is a very different image. A converted attic flat near Brick Lane, it would be filled with flowers from Columbia Road and quirky art work. In fact, seeing as this is a fantasy I can ignore my lack of artistic talent and say that I would be an artist too. I would wear colourful bits and bobs picked up from vintage fairs and markets and live off noodles and sushi. These two imagined worlds may be very different, but to me they are equally appealing.

It may be a trek from my college in Sheperd's Bush, but I love East London. Where else do vintage shops and market stalls flourish so abundantly? Where else would you see dandies wearing top hats and bow ties or girls braving the elements without tights in the name of fashion?

After smelling the flowers at Columbia Road this morning I headed to Shoreditch, walking to Brick Lane through flea markets where the odd gem hid amongst the debris of bicycle wheels, grubby looking dolls and single shoes (who buys a single shoe?).

At Brick Lane a vintage market had me nearly parting with some of my student loan for an emerald green 50s prom dress (I eventually told myself that food was probably more essential than 50s dresses). After the hideous overpricing of vintage outlets in Topshop or stores off Oxford Street, it was refreshing to see coats and jumpers for £5 and sparkly evening dresses for £15.

Wandering can be tiring work: at lunch after finally deciding between the many deliciously scented food stalls I opted for pumpkin curry and noodles and sat in the cold sun people watching.

In the afternoon it wasn't vintage clothes, but graffiti, that caught my eye. As soon as I spotted one spray painted walls it seemed graffiti was everywhere. I was soon following graffiti down side streets and around corners, the illicit art works leading me through the labyrinth of streets surrounding Brick Lane.

Now I'm back in my flat, warming up and getting ready for an early start and my first day back at uni tomorrow. But I couldn't think of a better way to have spent my last day of the holidays.

Libby