Is there a message in the medium?

Riding on the El, no matter what line you are on, you are bound to see "street art"-- graffiti in the form of colorful bubble letters, ugly scribbles, perhaps interesting cartoon figures. But when was the last time you encountered one that stopped you in your tracks and made you think about hard dilemmas in politics, religion or culture? In some corners of the world, that kind of street art is known as "a Banksy."
British graffiti artist Banksy, now in his late 30s, has created his controversial graffiti in some of the world's most tumultuous spots. He painted nine pieces on the Palestinian side of Israel's West Bank wall, urban frescos that confront viewers with images of escape to draw attention to the wall's nature as a barrier. A girl is lifted by balloons, a boy is painting a ladder. Children play in rubble with sand buckets and spades below a crack in the wall that reveals a beach paradise.
While not all of Banksy's work are as confrontational as the ones in Palestine, most have messages for the public. Some people consider him little more than a graffiti pest, but others call him a legitimate artist. In 2007, one of his pieces fetched around $200,000 at an auction at Sotheby's. When he installed one of his works by stealth at the British Museum, the museum decided to keep it as part of its permanent collection.
Under the law in most countries, graffiti is vandalism. But, as artists like Banksy have tried to prove, it also can be an art form that conveys important messages to the public in a visually compelling manner.
However, while many of Chicago's younger street artists admire Banksy, most aren't following his lead.
"Mostly I see these drawings of creatures or cartoon characters," said Jeff Zimmermann, a street artist known for his commissioned and non-commissioned murals around Chicago. "They are not really challenging."
Zimmerman says the younger generation adorns the streets with art that has a "loser aesthetic," heavy with droopy figures or clouds spurting rain. But none has an interesting message, he said. Their statements are more a matter of "I'm more recognized than you," raw entries in an ongoing contest of egos.
Christa Donner, professor of print media in social spaces at University of Illinois Chicago and Northwestern University, disagrees.
"I don't think [street art] is less confrontational. This morning I just walked past an image of someone with a gun in their mouth on the sidewalks in Pilsen," said Donner who is currently teaching about street art. She encourages students to work legally, putting their art in public where it doesn't permanently deface property.
"Street art in itself is fairly confrontational in this city," said Donner. "To even do that is highly illegal. Even a cute bunny is confrontational."
But, she says, not all of her students are make comments on society in their art. Some use public space simply as an alternative way to get their work out.
In street art, the concept of confrontation can be two-fold. The mere act of putting work up in public without permission is a kind of confrontation against laws regulating the use of public space. The confrontation is doubled if the content has a political message.
"It's kind of like an oxymoron that you have something with a profound intent," said Juan Chavez, a local installation artist who works with found objects.
Chavez agrees with Donner that simply installing work in public can be confrontational, But in recent years, he said, the content of Chicago street art has lacked interesting commentary.
"It's not changing anything," said Chavez. "So it's very difficult to say there has been social-political [street art] when their content hasn't been social-political."
Like Zimmermann, Chavez agrees that much Chicago street art is self-centered. "It's just shameless self-promotion," he said.
Zimmermann and Chavez, both in their late 30s, are established artists whose work has appeared in such museums as Chicago's Museum of Contemporary Art. But they also have placed art works in the streets. Zimmermann calls his street art "non-commissioned," while Chavez labels his "non-permission." Both use their work to challenge viewers' perception.
An example of Zimmermann's work can be found in an alley near Lake Street and Damen Street. Titled "Top of the World," the piece is a mural of people from the neighborhood, mostly blacks who may be forced out by gentrification. Zimmermann says he is not anti-gentrification, but he wants to document the neighborhood for the community that lived there.
Chavez, on the other hand, works with materials found on Chicago's street, sculpting them into interesting shapes. Working with collaborating artists, his goal is to convert space and "measure the limitations of public domain." One such example is "15 Years Ago," an urban cityscape plastered along a brick wall. Whimsical in feel, it includes three-dimensional, fluffy clouds hanging above a todddler's car surrounded by silver street cones. Chavez doesn't consider his work to be social or political, preferring to leave that for viewers to decide. But he says he is "a big fan of creating shock and visual impact."
Zimmermann says Chavez's work does make social commentary. His way of using found objects, such as a piece from a demolished hot dog stand, contains a community's history and personality, Chavez is documenting a neighborhood on the verge of radical change.
But both artists have reduced their amount of art on the streets in recent years.
"The streets have become less interesting, and there is too much clutter," said Chavez. " I just don't think I can recreate that visual shock anymore."
Local artists say that the streets contain more junk graffiti now, outpourings of tagging, bombing, wheat pasting and stickers. (See sidebar for definitions.) They wish its artistic level were higher and its content more compelling.
"If a work on the street is not political, it's because people are not political," said Chavez.
For Chavez, Chicago's junky, less confrontational street art is the work of a younger generation too entertained by MTV and Nintendo Wii games. They are not bored enough, he said, to take the initiative to rebel.
"I think there's a comfort zone [in Chicago], and there's a fear of law," he said.

Mayor Daley, considered one of the country's toughest graffiti fighters, has signed off on an ordinance fining legal guardians for juvenile graffiti offenses. He also has supported the cleanup program known as Graffiti Blasters, which sends out crews with high-pressure machines to blast defaced walls with baking soda and water. The program's anuual budget is $6.5 million.
Although Mayor Daley's policies are strict, most street artists don't care whether local laws are tight or loose. "When there is a will, there is a way," said Chavez.
Artists agree that graffiti will keep popping up no matter what laws are set in place. Under the 2007 anti-graffiti ordinance, legal guardians can be fined between $500 and $700 for juvenile graffiti offenses. But the city still had to remove around 160,000 pieces of graffiti last year.
So it seems, for now, both artists and local government continue playing the cat-and-mouse game. Graffiti's outlaw character, however, still holds strong allure for the young. Marwen, a non-profit organization offering free art classes for teenagers, underscores its potential to convey a message in a class titled Fine Arts Graffiti.
"We wanted to make sure," said Scott Lundius, director of education at Marwen, "that students with the kind of creative impulse to make their mark in the world have a place to do it that isn't infringing on the rights of others."
On the Pulaski Day holiday March 3, the organization covered its gallery walls and allowed students to use them as their canvas. Works included comments on global warming, personal empowerment and immigration. One student even questioned her own ethnic background.
Now in its third year, the class encourages youngsters to make their public mark in a skillful and civilly responsible manner.
"The whole point of the class is to get them to think critically," said teacher Hilesh Patel, 34, "and introduce concepts to them where they can take it further and discover it on their own."
For Patel, it's important that students understand the difference between merely spray-painting public property and making graffiti that's politically motivated.
The class of mostly female students is currently working on graffitiing shoes, which will be scattered around public spaces once the weather improves.
Staying within the bounds of the law is paramount for some of the students.
"I'm terrified of getting arrested," said Natalie Sustaita, a 15-year-old Lake View High School student. "I still want to do [graffiti] but would prefer reverse graffiti," she said, referring to a new style in which artists find dirty walls and clean out spaces with their designs.
All the Marwen students interviewed agreed that graffiti is vandalism. But they are taking the class, they said, because if graffiti is done with skill, it can be visually pleasing and contain a message.
"I'm hoping to get better at [graffiti], so I have to learn more about it." said Sustaita.
Many will argue that the dominant trend in local street art lacks confrontation and creativity. But there may be hope yet for Chicago when members of a younger generation are willing to spend their Saturday afternoons pondering the very idea of graffiti and working to improve their skills.
"I'm not at a high-class level [of graffiti] yet where I can make it look super cool," said 17 year-old Lynette Velazquez of Taft High School. "I've got to practice. That's what this class is for."