Chicago street artist
Solve was murdered a couple days ago. Although I never met Solve, he lived (and was killed) just a few blocks from where I live, we probably knew many of the same people in the arts community, we probably even went to the same parties. These aren't, however, the reasons why his death hit me in such a profound way. It's because I knew his art so well. His work, like a few other prolific street artists in Chicago, followed me everywhere I went. It became familiar; I looked for it subconsciously wherever I went, and I often looked for it consciously too. It enhanced my life, made me smile, and made this already interesting city even more complex and beautiful.
Street art, graffiti, whatever, anything from tags all the way up to stuff like Solve's clandestine
video installation on the blue line, these works take private property and make it public. It reclaims something lonely and gives it to the community. When I see a great piece of street art, it becomes mine, I own it, and I possess it in a way that studio art never allows.
It also sucks because apparently Solve was super nice guy, and his name was really his message- solve. Solve the problems our community faces.
photo by
Joyful Morgana
