THE SUPERB PRODUCTION THAT BRINGS TNOR AND SKORE TOGETHER: A TASTE OF BOGOTÁ

Photographies by Hecho Memoria

Be warned. You are about to read one of MTN-World’s most extensive interviews. This should come as no surprise, because Colombian writer TNOR is one of those individuals who has a lot to tell. Even more so when he meets up with another giant from the Colombian graffiti scene: his former colleague, Skore. Dmental Grafifti Shop, the legendary store based in Bogotá and Medellín, which has practically become an institution, supports this documentary project, under the watch of Hecho Memoria.

Can we talk about a Colombian style?
That is subjective. I think we have contributed to a South American graffiti identity, coinciding in the dynamics that our common contexts allow us: being resourceful with materials, formats and strategies. Although in Colombia we do not have a graphic language as extensive and rooted as that of Brazil or Chile, and despite the recent history of graffiti in the country, I think that little by little that sense of variety that characterizes us is beginning to condense into a style of its own.

“Unfortunately we never had a local trainwriting culture like in other parts of South America, and I think this was also important when it came to receiving external influences in the development of what our graffiti is today.”

Would you be able to list the influences that have made Colombian graffiti what it is today?
I would like to think that it started locally in the early 90’s when some Hip-Hop heads brought -whether on vacation or having been deported from the USA- some records, cassettes, movies, and magazines, in which there was an endless amount of references that provided a glimpse of a visual language characterized by graffiti-writing.
Later we were influenced by random events in which the information came from some adventurous writers from other countries. I remember for example when How & Nosm came to Bogotá in 2001. I can remember one of their walls in the center of the city that I used to see when I passed by with my grandparents holding hands (later on I came to understand the importance of their legacy). The Bogotá writers of the time were greatly influenced by the twins with this perfect blend of European and North American knowledge and discipline. This undoubtedly contributed to more than one of them who later became local icons (and from whom I learned indirectly) and from there, set a standard in their understanding/construction of the style of the time.

Then, under different circumstances, came more seasoned writers with whom we could establish another, perhaps broader, dialogue, as was the case with Loomit, Peeta, Ewok, Aroe, Does, among others, as well as How & Nosm, who contributed to the technical and practical understanding of graffiti.
In the early 2000’s Martha Cooper and Henry Chalfant’s books started to arrive, as well as magazines with international graffiti sections, copies of legendary graffiti DVDs like Tats Crew, Truemac, Dirty Handz and even Infamy, that I think left more than one of us speechless.
Unfortunately we never had a local trainwriting culture like in other parts of South America, and I think this was also important when it came to receiving external influences in the development of what our graffiti is today. But in general terms it arrived like that and after the explosion of the Internet, things happened differently.

“We are currently active, learning to strike a sustainable balance between passion and responsibility (an adulthood that is always hard to assimilate) and the occasional irresponsibility that can still be planned.”

Kavs is one of the most powerful groups in Colombia. Can you explain its history and current status?
KAVS was created at the beginning of 2007 in Bogotá by ZOMB and ANCK. I joined at the end of that year. At that time we were about 5 or 6 writers from different parts of the city.
We set up our base in the center of the city because it was an area of interest for most of us and graffiti was at its purest. The meeting point was at the house of one of my colleagues. We turned the crew into a community that worked like a sacred ritual of drawing and painting as we went through that adolescent stage towards adulthood, looking for a way to paint more with the premise of quality and visibility.
At that moment it was difficult to stand out and the relationship with other generations was complex because we had different notions. In time we built an aesthetic that some began to see as belonging to the crew. I understood it as the result of lending each other blackbooks and studying each other to look for the best in each other. During that time many writers from other parts of the city came to share in that process.

We never stopped doing things our way. We forged a community, a way of seeing and doing graffiti. Later STOPE, along with several of our close friends, took a giant step in the local trainwriting scene in 2011 when they painted the Medellín subway for the first time. Some of us would later approach steel from other contexts and cities, but highly inspired by this event. We forged friendships with great Latin American crews from whom we learned a lot thanks to repeated trips and a small community that we called “Unasur” (a satirical nod to the group of leftist South American countries that were set on strengthening the region and that, between jokes and jokes, was also taken up by friends from different countries).
We did not stop doing anything. We just allowed ourselves to explore more, always with the desire to improve our style and our exploits. Being from a country without a railway system led us to consider other dynamics in our context and to look for ways to go out and play in formats that we did not have or that offered very limited access.

I think we were able to contribute to the development of the generations that came later and felt influenced by KAVS, adopt or attend our rituals, and learn from what we came to share in the streets of Bogotá or in our store.
We are currently active, learning to strike a sustainable balance between passion and responsibility (an adulthood that is always hard to assimilate) and the occasional irresponsibility that can still be planned.

Are there any interesting Colombian writers outside the crew?
I can speak of my influences as those who came up before me and contributed to who I am: SAGA, BEEK, ECKS, HUESO, KOPS. Among those who were simultaneously with me I can highlight LOAD, KABE, SAKOL, DELIXS, SKORE, INGER (RIP), DESER, BEPE.

Tell us about your relationship with Skore.
We met in 2008 I think at a very crazy graffiti event. It was an abandoned house. There was no air vent and there were about 30 people painting everything (I was 17 years old). Before we talked through social media, we painted a couple of times, we coincided in the city center among friends; a time when we were very close, and he even belonged to KAVS for a short time. We grew up at the same time in this, and although over time we each took different paths, we still coincided occasionally at events and festivals. Then he was part of other crews (with whom I had little relationship) and I think that ended up distancing us further. However, when I see him in Bogotá or in another city around the world and we greet each other, it is understood that, after all, although we are not close, we have known each other for a long time and there is mutual respect between us.

What has this project meant to you in that sense?
For me it was a reencounter with the burnerpieces (laughs). It’s been a long time since I dedicated so much time to a graffiti. It was interesting to think about the wall, not as a typical versus between two different types of crews, but as a convergence from the comfort of each one. In the end we looked for common points and we got to that very quickly. Each of us already knows what he wants to see and do in terms of quality and aesthetics. It flowed quite well. We remembered many stories and times, Sakol’s company (an old partner in crime) who made the photos a good time and we ended up doing a wall that smacked of Bogotá.

“Graffiti in South America has huge challenges just to survive, yet it managed to win a place with minimal resources.”

What is your relationship like with writers from other Latam countries?
In my case it’s good. As of 2011 I started traveling and leaving the country. It represented a new network of friends with similarities in the way of living graffiti. I have learned a lot from them, and I try to share and be there for them. This is respect, camaraderie and passion for painting. UNASUR for example, was an exceptional case. It was an idea that started as a joke between CMS, KEOS, and ILS and it eventually spread to Colombia and other South American countries, generating a short connection but one that linked a kind of extended crew, a Latin American one with very good writers that between painting, laughter and stories, generated new friendships and a network of contacts that still prevails.

“Colleagues from North America and Europe who know South American graffiti agree that we live it with a strong passion for its origins, as if we were in the 80’s. And in a way we are.”

Is there a common feeling?
I think so. A few days ago Rose from CMS shared a reflection that exudes a third world feeling, something that has led us to be who we are and our way of defining our creativity from our difficulties. Graffiti in South America has huge challenges just to survive, yet it managed to win a place with minimal resources. I think that the cases of the Brazilian, Chilean and Argentinean scenes showed us early on that desire and talent were more valuable than the material privilege of the developed countries. I believe that in the real world at the least this represents a generalized reference that I appears to be shared in all the South American countries that I have visited. Colleagues from North America and Europe who know South American graffiti agree that we live it with a strong passion for its origins, as if we were in the 80’s. And in a way we are.

How important do you think drawing is in the development of style?
I think it’s essential. It’s the backstage of what you should be doing at all times so that when you go on camera you have a clear idea of what to do. If you don’t draw, you’re not doing enough to be good. Drawing and consistancy will give structure to the style. From handstyle to wildstyle it is important to go to paper first to mechanize and understand letters and their compositions.
I believe that in the “moment of truth” of a panel, for example, or when you only have a few minutes in a spot, there is no turning back to anything that you have not internalized or memorized. You can always repeat the same panel, but in my opinion, the one with the freshest style always stands out.

And in what you paint?
From the start I was very attached to my blackbook. I still have my collection at home. I even have those of several of my friends in the crew. As I mentioned, for KAVS and especially for me it represented a good phase in my evolution. It allowed me to experiment with many styles, forms, and techniques, and as a logbook, it allowed me to look back and return to forgotten paths.
Some years ago I stopped doing it as rigorously as I used to because I try to flow faster with the spaces, understanding better the action and the mental state that I want to apply to the exercise of painting. After all these years I don’t have the time or the motivation to continue focusing on very elaborate pieces. Somehow the movements are more automatic and focused on certain formats and timings. This does not mean that I have stopped drawing; I always end up with all my notebooks full of tags or loose letters that come to mind while I’m standing on a line or on my way to work. It will always be a habit.

Latin American graffiti tends to be very illustrative, or its authors tend to have high artistic potential compared to other places in the world. Why do you think that is?
I think it has to do with particular social contexts and a considerable pictorial heritage. Somehow the street before graffiti became a stage to uncover, denounce or raise different ways of thinking or perceiving the world. With the passage of time the street has become the gallery of the people. People do not paint for money but rather necessity, so that in this scenario not only those who want to write their name converge, but those who want to communicate something different. And in the midst of this symbiosis we witness how we all end up influencing each other.
That is why, at these junctures, very specific visual proposals come to life that give their cities a sense of visual identity and interest, such as OS GEMEOS, AISLAP, SENK, SAILE, DELIX, among many other talents.

Are there any artists that interest you outside of graffiti?
Frank Frazetta, Ralph Bakshi, Chris Garver, Math Lambdin and Alfons Mucha.

We know you’re also a metal fan. Could you list some of the cities where you’ve painted trains and subways?
About 10 years ago I began the unstoppable restlessness of rediscovering myself in trainwriting and although I do not pursue a particular end, I am more interested in subway systems. I would like to name a few on account of the stories behind them, without leaving aside the commuter trains. Trains in Helsinki 2019, St. Petersburg 2019 and Bern 2017. Metros in Moscow 2019, New York 2023, Paris 2017 and Buenos Aires 2013.

Tell us about an adventure away from home.
In 2019 when I went to Moscow, I planned to stay for 5 days. I had the intention of going through the system and returning to Central Europe, but things don’t always work out when you expect them to. After several attempts I ended up spending 2 weeks, and just a few hours before my return flight left, I decided to visit the last place on my list but that I had been doubting to go to because of the distance. That day I left the hostel at 1am, arrived at the spot at 2am, managed to convince a guy who had never painted a subway to watch my luggage outside the place and let me know if he saw anything strange around the spot. The bad thing was that he didn’t speak English very well and I spoke even less Russian (laughs) so the whole thing was going to be quite complex. In the end all I was going to ask was if I could leave and he just had to say yes (laughs). Luckily everything went well. My friend never answered his phone when I called him when I left, but he waited in the place we had agreed on from the beginning.

“In South America, there is a half-romantic idea of the graffiti writer in which it is not only about the one who conquers the streets, but also about the one who does it with grace and where a tag is appreciated as much as a burner. Everything is understood as part of the same body. It is about being good at everything.”

We had loads of laughs. I was already out of there at around 4am, and I had time to go to a gas station to use a bathroom and change clothes, call an Uber, leave my buddy (whom I had just met 24 hours ago at his house) and continue on my way to the airport to arrive 40 minutes before boarding, with my bags on my shoulder (happy and satisfied with the most absurd mission ever done) -about to miss my flight with a smile from ear to ear. (Big up to that bro that I made there for putting up with me).
I have a few more adventures I could tell and I’m collecting them for a publication that I’m currently working on, that I hope to have printed soon. It will be called Following Our Origin.

You and Skore are writers who are very involved in wall pieces but also in illegal graffiti, something that is not very common in Europe that, conversely, we do see in some countries like Venezuela. Why do you think this is?
In South America, there is a half-romantic idea of the graffiti writer in which it is not only about the one who conquers the streets, but also about the one who does it with grace and where a tag is appreciated as much as a burner. Everything is understood as part of the same body. It is about being good at everything. Maybe it is a remnant in our collective unconscious that Style Wars left behind, where the top dogs of New York in the 80’s dazzled with style and balls, because ever since I can remember, this is something that has always been present in graffiti in my city.
Although we shouldn’t generalize, it is something that somehow each city interpreted in its own way, some with a more American influence (like Bogotá and Caracas), and others with a more European one (like Santiago and Buenos Aires), but always with the idea of making the best graffiti possible.

“Graffiti has become more accessible, more varied in quantities and different qualities and even in its inputs and how it is perceived. Some of us feel relieved and others destroyed by this, but it will not cease to exist.”

Why do you think graffiti has spread so much around the world?
There is more and more information and means to disseminate it. The increasing use of social media and unlimited access to the Internet detonate this type of expression. This has made the content more and more superficial and the information that floats through the networks serve more for entertainment than for understanding, which has a snowball effect on a global scale. It is one thing to see it and another to learn it. In that sense, I feel that many conversations, codes and learning end up taking place on the street, and the virtual and the analogical coexist to proliferate an increasingly widespread game.
On the other hand, the industry continues to grow with more and more specialized products and services, and the graffiti aesthetic is not slacking in terms of its growing approval on behalf of the media (that already finds more room for it in its advertisements, films and magazine covers). It will surely continue to contribute to making it that pop art project, sometimes domesticated, that is marketable to alternative types. Graffiti has become more accessible, more varied in quantities and different qualities and even in its inputs and how it is perceived. Some of us feel relieved and others destroyed by this, but it will not cease to exist.

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