Confessions of an Ethnographer: Reflections on Fieldwork with Graffiti Writers in Montreal

Abstract

Tonight, jumped over a fence dividing city from federally owned Canadian National railway property. It took me longer than it would have any writer. They're used to it. I'm not. Still, managed to pull myself over the 6-foot steel fence, complete with barbed wire and positioned slightly at an angle that made it difficult for me to rest my feet and lower body on the fence while pulled myself up with my arms. had to rely on my upper-body strength--of which don't have much--and haul myself over to reach the other side. Not an easy job. imagined for a moment what it could be like trying to run from the cops. walked on and along the railroad tracks with my guide, a local writer, who mindfully pointed out sections of various freight trains stationed along the strip that showed graffiti. saw trains punctuated with tags, others with throw-ups, still others with beautifully executed pieces.(2) As usual, the on the freights all listed from where they came: Santa Fe, Chicago, Vancouver, Montreal. After taking snapshots and discussing a few of the most stylistically meaningful pieces, we slowly made our way out of the site. It was then that my guide suddenly said: I don't believe jumped a fence with Louise Gauthier tonight. He had first seen me on CBC television's City Beat in the role of graffiti expert. He saw me as an authority on and respected me for it. respected him because, being a writer, he knew more about the practice of than did.As with the other writers came to know, issues of gender, age, education and class worked themselves through our relations with one another. sometimes had the sense of being perceived as the matriarch of graffiti--given my age, sex and educational background. ended up studying the activities of young men, who were very different from me. Nevertheless, they let me in and felt privileged that they allowed me to be a temporary insider. When could do something to help them out, did: reclaim a camera from a police station which had been kept following a graffiti-related arrest; work out some of the logistics needed to successfully put on events; share photographs of had taken during trips to other cities; discuss with them what it means to write.Figure 1 [Not Transcribed]In the field, slowly developed relationships with writers. worked particularly closely with a small number of them. This helped me develop a better understanding of who they are, and at the same time made me see more clearly who am. While many would have felt threatened by some of these young men most people see as deviants, criminals, or freaks, felt safe and accepted. And this despite the fact that some (and therefore most likely all) knew about my personal life: queer. Some of them followed me through my separation with my partner of five years, though they never pried into the matter or asked questions. walked and talked with the writers both alone and in groups, visited desolate places with them both during the day and late at night, and wandered in areas most people try to avoid. Some of them knew my former partner and during our relationship included her in activities and conversations, and treated her with respect. Despite my queerness, or maybe because of it, we were able to develop warm relationships, devoid of sexual tension, and in some cases discussed gender roles, love and commitments. In this respect, became one of the boys.During a recent press conference at Montreal City Hall that served to officially launch the city's new zero-tolerance plan with regard to the practice and presence of in the metropolitan area, recall being both upset and unsure about the kind of impact this plan would have on the writing community. was already witnessing fragmentation within the community and feared that this kind of effort would dismantle whatever bond had been created among writers, and between writers and myself. …