Rules are only good for one thing.

“Get it flowin’, now I’m goin’
Up to the train that’s slowin’
To write my name, I’m leavin’ stains
You know my fame is growin’”
- Bias B

I grew up in Windsor in the early 90s. It was a very different place back then, I don’t really recognise it much when I go back. We used to freely skate up and down Chapel st to Prahran bowl, especially the Windsor end, as there was no ‘al fresco’ dining or heavy foot traffic. As well as the infamous skate park, it was also home to Obese Records - the mecca of Australian hip hop. (I was a rapper in my younger days and even had an album stocked there, maybe something for another day.)

The area was also a hotbed for graffiti, and every kid (and teenager and many grown adults) had a tag. I never really thought much of it at the time, but looking back, it wasn’t really a ‘normal’ way to grow up. Pretty much everyone I knew in the neighbourhood was attuned to jumping fences, hitting run ups, scoping yards, and painting walls. Experimenting with compressing road marking paint into conventional aerosol cans and mixing up stainers with brake fluid and acetone. Anything was a material. Everything was a canvas.

“We on cue, the secco left his post near
Two and the text from the lookout says ‘the coast clear’
It’s no fear, just rushin’ as the holes cut
I’m buzzin’ like I’m bustin through bank doors in a hold up
The smell of steel is real in the yard, tucked
Between two cars under stars, beginning to mark up”
- Trem One

Whether you agree with it or not, or appreciate it or not, the artform of graffiti is one of the most laterally creative expressions on the planet. It’s an incredibly ‘pure’ discipline, after all, the first art humans ever made was telling stories on walls. Letting someone else know we were there. No one is doing it for money. Every single piece comes with risk. Often it has to be done in horrible, dangerous conditions at 2 in the morning. There’s also an inherently competitive nature to it and fame is earned through creative cut through, brand recognition, and clever media placement. Something everyone reading this can probably resonate with.

But it’s also about rules. Understanding them, respecting them, following them, just so you can catch a glimmer of the perfect moment to break them. Rules come, rules go, rules get broken, new rules are written, and then broken again. Stylistically, creatively, structurally, systematically. Patterns and trends have their time, but the true creativity is breaking those patterns and trends. And often that requires breaking the rules that govern them. I learnt a lot from the graffiti and hip hop scene. There’s plenty of insight to be found in the nooks and crannies of society and subcultures (for some, if you first loosen the clutch on those pearls).

It’s no coincidence that what many consider to be ‘the greatest advertising campaign of all time’ is Marc Ecko & Droga5’s brilliant Still Free/Air Force 1:

Imagine how viral this would go today. It’s the type of campaign we never see anymore, despite being even more perfectly suited to the ‘social’ era. Why? Well, that’s simple. Can’t guarantee the ROI. Film is too long. No branding in the opening 5 seconds. Doesn’t include an animated furry animal. Not enough people exhibiting positive facial expressions. Doesn’t follow the rules. Doesn’t fit the template.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Nothing great follows the rules. Because rules are boring. Inhibiting. Expected.

Rules are made to be broken.

Hip hop itself was born from a lot of things, but mostly sprang from illegal block parties and ‘DJs’ distorting disco records on turntables in ways they were never designed to be used. Then people started rhyming over the top of them. Then producers started ‘sampling’ vinyl. Old rules pulled and ripped apart, tearing a hole for something new. Something better. The whole thing is a chain of broken rules leading to the most culturally significant movement of the modern era.

The rave scene was born in illegal warehouses and locations, communicated by answering machine messages, flyers, and later, texts, to circumvent authorities, initially resulting in violent clashes. Eventually, the tenacity and creativity of party organisers spawned one of the largest subcultures on the planet. And the love and support and community required to overcome institutional oppression became the foundations for rave culture itself.

The birth of heavy metal is mostly attributed to Black Sabbath guitarist, Tommy Iommi, suffering a horrible machinery accident that severed his fingers, leading to him to experiment with drop tuning his guitar in order to still be able to play it. The resulting distorted tone, to most, was ‘not how a guitar is supposed to sound’ - it ended up changing the world. There’s seventy gazillion metal subgenres and scenes now. Each with new and ever evolving rules and tenets.

Hell, at one point ‘dunking’ was even illegal in basketball. Dunking. What most would consider now to be the most exciting, iconic, element of the game. Imagine basketball with no dunking. Sorry, against the rules.

There isn’t necessarily a pointy tip on this post. More a rambling. A pondering. As I study the patterns and trends in the ocean, waiting for the right opening. Think about workarounds for the restrictions and boundaries of an art project I’m starting. And, reaching the end of the holiday break, contemplate the year ahead.

The world of commercial creativity is changing, shifting, evolving. And we’re all scrambling for something stable to grasp on to. A system. A template. A rule. But all these new rules and patterns and trends will bend, buckle, and sway like the ones before them.

And as a new set of rules begins to emerge, like everyone else, I’ll be watching, learning, understanding, but not so I can chain myself to them.

But rather, when opportunity arises, to see how I can take a bolt cutter to them.

Because, really, that’s what creativity is all about.

Happy new year.