British artists take to the streets

London: Christiaan Nagel scrambles up an aluminium ladder, carrying a big blue mushroom.

In seconds, the 29-year-old sculptor is on the roof of a once-handsome, now neglected Victorian building in London. Under a crescent moon, he works quickly — within minutes, the polyurethane fungus stands tall over the street below — an impromptu landmark to be enjoyed and photographed by passers-by.

Nagel is a street artist, one of a growing band of painters, stencilers and sculptors bringing vibrancy to the recession-tattered streets of Britain.

His work pops up unannounced, and in that it captures the spirit of the times.

Unauthorised art in public places is booming in austerity Britain. As public funding dries up, businesses struggle and economic uncertainty hits collectors' pocketbooks, London's streets have been colonised by artists. Empty stores become pop-up art shops, empty walls pop-up galleries — and every street artist dreams of becoming the next Banksy, the anonymous graffiti-sprayer whose work sells for six-figure sums.

Motivating factors

Nagel, like other street artists, insists he is not motivated by money but by a combination of ego, excitement, and the desire to have his work seen by as many people as possible.

His mushrooms cost just a few pounds to make, but generally earn him nothing. He pays the rent by trading second-hand guitars, and by occasional paid art commissions.

He makes mushrooms because they are both a pleasing shape and a flexible metaphor.

"They're pop-up art, they could be mushroom clouds, they could be psychedelic drugs," he said. "I suppose they tie in with the sub-culture of street art, which is guerrilla art, which is illegal."

Illegal, maybe, but increasingly accepted. Nagel says he has been stopped by police only once, handcuffed by officers while installing a mushroom in the middle of a busy traffic circle.

"They were like, ‘What are you doing?' and I said: ‘I'm an artist and I've just installed my mushroom.'" Nagel said. "They gave me a look for about 10 minutes and they let me go."

The global financial crisis, and the British government's budget-slashing, have hit the arts hard. More than 200 British arts organisations have lost government funding, and dozens say they may have to shut down.

But a do-it-yourself, street-level arts culture is flourishing. Some of London's hipper, scruffier quarters have become so art-encrusted that they are now tourist attractions in themselves.

Around the east London districts of Shoreditch and Hackney, walls sprout giant birds and furry rodents, brightly coloured hands and fantastical landscapes.

One recent morning, about 20 well-dressed young tourists were on a walking tour of brick walls and vacant buildings adorned with colourful drawings and murals by artists with names like Stik, Sweet Toof and Phlegm.

The works are the product of young artists attracted to London by its vibrant art scene, and to the streets by a blend of a freedom-loving philosophy and the opportunity provided by so many neglected walls.

"The streets are the biggest gallery, the least pretentious," Richard Howard-Griffin, who organises the walking tours and has developed a website guide and an iPhone app to London's booming urban art scene, said. "They are able to reach people who don't go to galleries."

Impermanence

The downside of street art is its impermanence. What's here today may be gone tomorrow. Nagel says he has installed more than 100 mushrooms, but only a handful are still standing. The longest-surviving has overlooked a busy road for more than a year.

But that's also part of its appeal. Spotting a new Banksy before it is covered up or spirited away is a bit of a sport. Street art also brings its practitioners a wide audience, the thrill of covert action and a sense of community.

"There's a great energy here," Nagel said. "There are some great street artists from all around the world who come together here."

Many street artists are reluctant to speak publicly. They are, by nature, anti-authoritarian, and their work thrives on secrecy and the mystique of a pseudonym.

Nagel says he finds such silence difficult. "I get too excited about my work. I want to tell everybody."

His mushrooms are the product of serendipity. He grew up surfing the Indian Ocean off Durban, and began experimenting with the kind of foam used in surf boards. One mould produced a mushroom-top shape, and he was smitten.

Now he makes the sculptures on a resin-stained rooftop outside his apartment and leaves them dotting rooftops, bridges and even trees.

Before last year's wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton, he left the royal couple a gift in the middle of the Serpentine, the artificial lake in Hyde Park.

"I put on my wet suit, got on my surfboard and paddled out," he said. Nagel lined up 10 in a row along an island, with a sign declaring them "a present for the couple to be married." It was all gone by noon the next day.

Public reaction

Despite the occasional insult or hurled bit of litter, Nagel says the reaction of the public is overwhelmingly friendly.

That sentiment is seconded by Run, an Italian-born artist who has been painting bright murals of hands and faces across London for several years.

Run decided early on that he didn't like painting at night. It was too solitary, too spooky. He paints in daylight, and says most onlookers have a positive reaction.

"You discover that people really want to smile," he said. "If anything makes you smile, and it's a bit different from normality, people are happy and you can see it."

Local authorities and building owners are increasingly likely to protect a colourful mural, rather than paint over it. Since Banksy, high-quality street art has been seen less as vandalism, more as a feature that can add cachet and value to a property and cachet to a neighbourhood.