Serri Graslie

Melisa Rivière

ANTH 3980 05: Hip-Hop in a Global Perspective

28 February 2008

HENRY CHALFANT: MORE THAN A PIONEER

“New York City is still the capital and cultural center of graffiti. It is like Mecca to those who worship at the altar of style” --Introduction to Spraycan Art, Henry Chalfant & James Prigoff (1987)

New York City would hardly be that “Mecca” Chalfant and Prigoff describe it as without the efforts of Henry himself in the 1970s and 80s. Their quote refers to the dissemination of graffiti following the end of New York City’s subway “bombing”[1] movement in 1989, but as influential as the subway car pieces were (and still are) to the street art community, they would not have been as nearly impactful were it not for Chalfant’s work as a hip-hop documentalist. Certainly as a white, Stanford-educated man, he was a seemingly unlikely candidate for bringing the burgeoning hip-hop culture of the Bronx to the attention of the nation and the greater world at large. Nevertheless, his efforts opened thousands of eyes to two of the four main facets of hip-hop—street art and breakdancing.

But it is somewhat erroneous to label Henry Chalfant a pioneer, at least if one thinks in terms of the word’s traditional definition—he did not sail amber waves of grain in a prairie schooner but, more seriously, he also did not develop graffiti. It is an art as ancient as mankind; he merely presented the most recent incarnation of it (although, truth be told, he did shape it somewhat by allowing writers to see, steal and remake the work of others for the first time). It would be more accurate to call him a conduit—a method of transfer—but considered in the most active and involved sense of the term. Ultimately, his role in the hip-hop history books should be no less notable than the entries of those he paved the way for.

“Toy”[2]: Unlikely Beginnings

Henry Chalfant grew up in a small, all-American town in Pennsylvania during the 1950s. His mother, father and grandfather all cast large shadows in the tiny community and, as a result, Chalfant often felt alienated by his quasi-aristocratic upbringing. In Jeff Chang’s book, Can’t Stop Won’t Stop: A History of the Hip-Hop Generation, Chalfant recounts:

“‘We used to argue over whose family was poorer while being driven to school by the chauffeur,’ he says. ‘I was definitely unhappy where I grew up, which was very privileged, very white, very hide-bound, and rather empty’” (Chang 142).

The minute it came time for Chalfant to go to college in 1958, he was off like a rocket to Stanford University in California where he majored in Classical Greek. After graduating, he became very interested in sculpture and relocated to Europe where he lived in Italy and Spain for three years while actively pursuing the art (Chalfant/Cooper 105).

But the art and styles of the Old World could only hold Chalfant’s attention for so long. On frequent trips back to New York City he was increasingly taken by the graffiti work of emerging aerosol artists on the sides of subway cars. The mystique and allure of the new movement was too powerful for him to ignore. He longed to be a part of it and, at the very least, he wanted to capture the ever-temporary “pieces”[3] via photograph before they were buffed away or written over. He moved to the city in 1973 with his wife, Kathleen, and began a lifelong career as a graffiti art preserver and proponent (Chang 142).

“Burn”[4]: First Guy on the Scene

During the summers of 1976-1979, he would set off on weekends to document the work of writers on the sides New York City’s subway train cars and, in doing so, became the first serious documentalist of the “ephemeral art” (Chalfant/Cooper 6). In his first, co-written book, Subway Art, the authors comment on his innovative method and unique style of photography.

“As an artist himself, he focused his attention on the paintings, isolating them from their environment. A subway car is sixty feet long and it cannot be captured broadside with a normal 50 mm lens when standing at the platform. When seen at an angle, the details of the farther end of the painting disappear. So Henry devised an unorthodox method of taking pictures: he stood on the above-ground station platforms, waiting for a freshly painted car to pull up on the opposite side to discharge and pick up passengers. When one appeared, he was able—with quick footwork—to shoot a serious of four photos, each of a different section of the car. Later, he bought a motor drive from the camera, which enabled him to stand in one spot and shoot the series while the train was pulling out. In this way, over a period of seven years, he documented some five hundred paintings that no longer exist” (Chalfant/Cooper 6-7).

“Top to Bottom”[5]: Doing it All

But Chalfant’s involvement in the hip-hop community hardly began and ended with his photographs. He also played major roles in other aspects of the movement that included arranging various gallery shows featuring graffiti art and managing the premiere breakdancing group in New York City, the Rock Steady Crew.

The first gallery show Chalfant put together was an exhibition at the O.K. Harris Gallery in September of 1980. The display was more or less ignored by outsiders but graffiti writers (those who were on display and otherwise) were thrilled and flocked to the gallery in droves, dressed to the nines, for one the biggest moments of their writing lives to date. But the showing didn’t just offer the artists legitimate recognition—it gave them ideas. Those from one side of the city were finally able to see the work of others, miles away, without having to track and chase down trains. By just putting the pieces in one place, Chalfant had changed the face the medium in innumerable ways—for the first time writers were able to inspire (and, occasionally, steal from) each other (Chang 143).

Martha Cooper, co-author of Subway Art, was a fellow graffiti photographer who met up with Chalfant shortly after the O.K. Harris show. Before long, the two were working closely together to bring aerosol art into the public conscience as a respectable art form, and it was actually Cooper who turned Chalfant on to the growing breakdancing scene. She had been on assignment to photograph a supposed “’riot-in-progress’ at a Washington Heights subway station,” but once she arrived, there was no riot in sight (Chang 155). In fact, the apparent “conflict” was hardly a conflict at all—just a bunch of kids battling it out through competitive dance using mock-fighting moves (otherwise known as “uprocking”).

Chalfant was intrigued and began asking writers he knew about dancers in their neighborhoods. One artist, TAKE ONE, claimed to know the most talented kid in the city and shortly thereafter introduced Chalfant to a young breaker who went by “Crazy Legs.” Chalfant was impressed and in practically no time at all had arranged a group of breakers together (Crazy Legs included). He collectively named them the “Rock Steady Crew” and scheduled a mock battle to take place at a show he was calling “Graffiti Rock” at the Common Ground studio (Chang 156).

The exhibition gained mass attention in no time; aided, in part, by a cover story in The Village Voice. But on the afternoon prior to the show, everything fell apart. The Rock Steady crew ran into a rival group from Washington Heights and an argument erupted that soon escalated into a heated fight over turf demarcations. With threats of imminent violence, Chalfant cancelled the show for safety reasons (Chang 157-58).

Despite the failure of the Common Ground show, Chalfant continued to work with the Rock Steady crew and eventually scored gigs for them battling other b-boys and b-girls at places like the Lincoln Center, roller rinks and even, less appropriately, Pete Seeger-headlined folk festivals. Before long, the group has amassed a considerable entourage that “rolled out thick, their [the Rock Steady Crew’s] people from all the boroughs representing fresh and bold in light grey jumpsuits” (Chang 159). Chalfant had made a name for the Rock Steady Crew, but suddenly, in the midst of their meteoric rise, he left as the group’s manager. Jeff Chang speculated that, “Perhaps the artist in him object wringing commerce from the culture, or perhaps he was too old and settled to have the hunger for it” (Chang 160). No matter the reason for his departure, Chalfant’s mark on the group was indelible.

“Piece Book”[6]: Collecting Art, Spreading the Word

By the end of the 1970s, Chalfant had officially made a name for himself in the hip-hop community. Aware of his standing and conscious of his unparalleled knowledge and connections, he knew he was in a prime position to spread the message beyond New York City—to the rest of the country and maybe even the world. In 1981, he began production on the documentary Style Wars! with director Tony Silver.

The groundbreaking graffiti film was shot over the course of three years—from 1981 to 1983—but was initially formulated as a short on b-boying. Chalfant and Silver planned to focus the bulk of their film on Rock Steady but the crew had found sudden fame and were no longer available—to further complicate things, the pair ran out of money. Stumped but still wanting to make a film, Kathleen suggested they make a documentary on graffiti writers instead. The idea clicked instantly and Style Wars! was born (Chang 161).

The film focused primarily on the writers who were tagging elaborate pieces on New York City’s subway cars and, in doing so, also introduced some notable characters in the local graffiti scene including SEEN, KASE 2, DEZ and ZEPHYR. Although Chalfant was familiar with some of the artists prior to filming, he and Silver still had to gain rapport with a few of the more reclusive taggers. He commented on this process in a radio interview on KALX 90.7 FM with Billy Jam:

“Part of the ease with which these scenes happen and their willingness to share with us came from my being involved with them for a long time. (I) started to take pictures in the mid 70's and (had amassed a 3 year) collection of photo's […] before I met any writers, so I came sort of armed with a passport which gave me this incredible grand stand view of something that was evolving. To them, I was a valuable source for archiving their work and so they overcame rapidly their suspicion that I was a cop and that my involvement was pretty benign and was mainly about pictures. So we had this relationship that was really valuable, they called me on the phone and told me what they were doing, wanting me to go out and get the picture […]” (Style Wars! DVD).

After an initial run on PBS, the film took off all across the country but was most notably more successful in West Coast areas like San Francisco and Seattle where the elaborate graffiti pieces of New York were not yet being seen. Even though it remains relatively popular today, Chalfant notes there are still mixed reactions to the documentary:

“The audience at any showing of Style Wars! attended by Tony or me always raises the same questions; in one, angry citizens berate us for encouraging vandalism everywhere, and in the other, the purists ask if we regret being part of a process that has destroyed urban folk culture” (Chang 162).

That story wasn’t exactly the same in the NYC. But, despite a poor, one-time showing on PBS (it was cited as being too sympathetic to writers who were still the bane of many New Yorkers), it impacted regional artists considerably (Chang 161). Joe Austin, author of Taking the Train: How Graffiti Art Became an Urban Crisis in New York City, commented on the effect of Style Wars! and Chalfant’s co-authored book Subway Art (which was released around the same time) on the local scene:

“While its [Subway Art’s] aesthetic influence was negligible in New York City, where the works could both be viewed ‘live,’ both Style Wars! and Subway Art still had a significant influence on the local scene. They pushed several writers to the forefront of an international movement” (Austin 263).

“Getting Up”[7]: Continued Resonance

Henry Chalfant is undoubtedly the premiere hip-hop documentalist of the 1970s and 80s. As an artist, photographer, author, filmmaker and manager he was able to capture aspects of a multi-dimensional culture that were previously unseen by most people. Ultimately, there is little question that he acted as one of the primary disseminators of the hip-hop movement in general to the rest of the world and there is virtually no question that graffiti owes its growing mainstream acceptance as a legitimate aesthetic movement to him.

Works Cited

Austin, Joe. Taking the Train: How Graffiti Art Became an Urban Crisis in New York City. New

York: Columbia University Press, 2001.

Chalfant, Henry, and James Prigoff. Spraycan Art. New York: Thames and Hudson, Inc., 1987.

Chang, Jeff. Can’t Stop Won’t Stop: A History of the Hip-Hop Generation. New York: Picador,

2005.

Cooper, Martha, and Henry Chalfant. Subway Art. New York: Henry Holt and Company, Inc.,

1984.

"STYLE WARS! DVD: Interview with Tony Silver and Henry Chalfant." Hip Hop Slam.

Billy Jam. (Originally appeared on: KALX 90.7FM Berkeley.) 26 Feb. 2008

<http://www.hiphopslam.com/articles/artic_StyleWarsDVD.html>.

[1] Bomb, in this context, means the act of leaving an elaborate graffiti tag in a public place.

[2] Section headings are graffiti vocabulary as defined by Chalfant and Cooper in Subway Art (page 27). “Toy” is an “inexperienced or incompetent writer.”

[3] A term, derived from “masterpiece,” meant to describe individual pieces of aerosol art.

[5] “A piece which extends from the top of the car to the bottom”