Myths and mysteries

Past postings on The Filthy Pen have pondered on graffiti's history and origins - postings such as this one and that one, should you feel like looking them up. From these, we have learned that graffiti has its roots at the very dawn of mankind, and was a favoured form of free expression in the days of the mighty Roman Empire.

Today's graffiti can be seen on a sea wall along the waterfront at Portobello, a quaint town on the edge of the Scottish capital known as 'Edinburgh's seaside'. A large-scale work, this daubing seems to offer a reverential nod towards another colourful era of history - the ancient Greeks. Come on, look at that image; surely there's a connection here?

Greek mythology is littered with powerful gods and goddesses, legendary heroes and heroines, terrifying and fabulous creatures, gifted figures and tortured souls. If we look hard enough, perhaps we'll find what we're searching for.

Consider Atlas. He was condemned by Zeus to carry the impossible weight of all the heavens on his mighty back. What a punishment. Echo, a nymph who fell foul of Hera, was punished too. Hera was Queen of Olympus and wife of Zeus, and she put a curse on poor Echo so she could only repeat the words of others, and never speak for herself again.

What about Dionysus? The Greek god of wine, Dionysus was an inveterate lover of the sauce of the grape. It was he who granted Midas his wish to turn whatever he touched into gold. Midas first found his newly-acquired ability a gift, but it turned out to be a tragic curse. He could not eat or drink, and when he touched his daughter, she too turned to gold. Disaster.

Then of course there's Pan, the Greek god of shepherds and flocks. Half-man, half-goat, Pan is said to have had the power to put into the hearts of men a feeling of sudden fear - the gift of panic. He was lecherous old goat too. He had Echo torn to pieces when she spurned him. Ouch.

Such gripping tales and potted biographies are all very entertaining, but they're not much help to us in our quest. But what about Pegasus? The offspring of Medusa and Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea, Pegasus was no ordinary old nag - he had the gift of flight. Is our graffiti's author making a cryptic claim to be hung like a winged horse? It's a possibility. Either way, it seems our trail is getting warmer.

Now we get to Hermes. A messenger of the gods, Hermes was a psychopomp - someone responsible for guiding the souls of the dead to the underworld. To help him in his task, he had winged sandals and a winged helmet - the sort worn on the head, that is. Could our artist be hinting that Hermes sported wings elsewhere too? Libraries were visited, dusty books were pulled from dustier shelves and fragile pages were carefully turned, but no documentary evidence to support such a bold theory came to light. What a pity.

So there you have it; another unanswered riddle. The Winged Penis of Portobello remains a mystery. And we came so close to cracking it, didn't we.

Grow up Sean

On The Filthy Pen's trawl through the cheeky doodles and scrawled messages that decorate the UK's public spaces, there's one aspect of graffiti that so far we've barely scratched the surface of - the murky realm of personal attacks and public vendettas.

While jibes, digs and insults form a key part of much graffiti, examples where the victim's full name is utilised are much rarer. Over the last few months though, an impressive collection of such images has been assembled here, and now seems as good a time as any to start featuring them. Assorted forthcoming posts will highlight a diverse array of such hyper-personal pieces. Let's air some grievances. Let's get things out in the open.

To start the ball rolling, here's a piece of graffiti from Victoria Street in Grimsby. It was spotted on the external wall of Argos, adjacent to the store's entrance. The site is unlikely to have been selected at random, and was presumably chosen because it's a favourite shopping spot of the writing's target, Sean McNally.

As you may have noticed, there is a strong trend among today's young British males to sport ostentatious jewellery. For many, Argos is their preferred shop as it offers a wide range of fashionable and attractive pieces at reasonable prices. Perhaps the graffiti's author placed their message there in the hope it would catch Sean's eye as he ventured in to peruse the latest edition of the chunky Argos catalogue, before checking his chosen item's availability on the user-friendly computerised stock system and - providing they'd not already sold out - making his purchase.

What might Sean have selected? There's much to choose from. He might have decided on a tasteful ring, or a modest pendant, or a discreet earring. Such a wealth of choices.

We can also see from the same picture that Bryony and Tod, whoever they may be, sadly appear to have ended their romance. Bryony, it seems, is no longer “4” Tod. Oh dear. Maybe Bryony scribbled over her own name after a tiff, or perhaps Tod attacked it with a marker pen after a falling-out. Or it could be that a jealous, vindictive Sean McNally was responsible for defacing it, leading in turn to the graffitied retort from one of the still-happy couple in a bid to cut him down to size and highlight his childishness in trying to come between them. Maybe Bryony had previously dumped Sean for Tod, leading Sean to deface their public declaration of love as a method of petty revenge.

There are so many options here. You will have to decide for yourself what it is that makes Sean so immature, and whether Bryony and Tod's romance is on or off. Consider it a sort of real-life soap opera, starring a young Grimsby cast – an earthier alternative to Hollyoaks, if you like. Use your imagination. Plot out a storyline.

The silversmith

With this piece of work, what you see is what you get. There's no ironic sub-text here. There's little to analyse or deconstruct. It gets straight to the point, and the point is simple: overwhelmed by an irresistible urge to spray the word knob in silver paint on the shutter of a lock-up on Calton Road in Edinburgh, the perpetrator succumbed. Word sprayed, point made, job done.

The technique here is admirable. Look at the lettering. Little if any paint has run. Whoever carried this out handled their mission skilfully. It seems they're no stranger to such tasks. They've done this before. They have form. They've got previous.

If they knew what they were doing, they may have gone so far as to use some protection. Something along the lines of a spray vapour respiratory mask, perhaps. Wearing one would greatly reduce the risk of inhaling the tiny droplets of paint that are dispersed into the air when the nozzle of the aerosol is pressed. They may be tiny, but they can be dangerous. And, if inhaled in large enough doses, over a long period of time, possibly even carcinogenic. An experienced sprayer would see it as just another risk though. Occupational hazard. Comes with the territory.

Mask or no mask, we do know that at least one of the instructions on the spray can was followed to the letter - the product was used in a well-ventilated area. You can't get better ventilation than using it al fresco, can you?

Smoke-free Britain

Anyone old enough to remember the Community Charge may also recall that it was imposed on the people of Scotland a full year before it was palmed off on our neighbours south of the border. Commonly referred to as the Poll Tax, it was perhaps the most loathed piece of legislation to be introduced - or, to put it another way, flung at the public, in the same way that monkeys fling their filth at visitors to the zoo - during the Thatcher era. Boy, was she unpopular up here. Still is too. Just wait until she dies. There'll be dancing in the streets.

More recently, another piece of legislation was introduced in Scotland before it made it onto England's statute books - the ban on smoking in enclosed public places. This time though, instead of it being thrust upon us by Westminster, it was Scotland's own parliament that brought it in. Wales and Northern Ireland went on to take similar decisions, and England finally followed suit when legislation came into effect there on 1 July 2007, completing a UK-wide ban.

It has now been 16 months since the anti-smoking legislation's arrival here. It still invokes ire among a sizeable chunk of Scotland's population, as today's piece of signage defacement illustrates. Written on a reminder poster at the Royal Mail delivery office in Musselburgh, it's a simple piece of graffiti that utilises a nice piece of Scottish slang.

For anyone down south who's unfamiliar with its meaning, a fine definition of baw along with some examples of its potential uses can be viewed here. Go on - learn it, and use it.