Back in 2007, when I was working at a vintage clothing store in Los Angeles, I suddenly noticed a mini-skirted old lady painted on the store's exterior wall. I was captivated by its bizarre atmosphere and the catchphrase dripping with irony. The owner told me, “That's Banksy.” At the time, Banksy was known only to those in the know. I hadn't even noticed street art until then. After that, the city looked completely different. I felt like street art was shouting messages of anger, sadness, hope, and “I am here.” One day, the art on the vintage store wall had changed from an old lady in a miniskirt to a caveman carrying a fast-food tray. A humorous observation of American civilization? Yet even that changed into the joy of a mouse drawing a heart. The artist was painting over his own pictures one after another. The act itself seemed like a critique of the art market. Street art can be erased or overwritten at any moment. It's a once-in-a-lifetime art, visible only here and now. I gained a fresh perspective. I began documenting the street art I encountered around the world.

imastreetart@gmail.com