The Perception of Abstract
Author
Camillo Baracco
Artworks
Brody + URSH
The king of what? The king of style…. Wait, which style? Since its popular emergence from New York in the 1970s, graffiti has inscribed itself into the broader art world, whether embraced or resisted. As a subculture, it operates through a complex system of slang, codes, and ethical frameworks, developing in ways that allow informed viewers to identify geographic origin, lineage, and influence through stylistic cues alone.
In Melbourne, this manifests as a distinctly local visual language and belief system around what graffiti should look like. Commonly referred to as Melbourne wildstyle, this approach has long functioned as both an aspirational benchmark and a disciplinary framework for “style writers” and “graffiti writers.” Mastery of this style once signified legitimacy, skill, and cultural literacy within the scene. However, in 2026, graffiti is no longer bound by a single stylistic orthodoxy.
A newer generation of practitioners increasingly rejects the authority of traditional forms, either in opposition to perceived rigidity or in pursuit of individual expression. This shift has facilitated the emergence of internal sub-movements like post-graffiti, anti-style, and the so-called ignorant style, which challenge conventional notions of technical proficiency, authorship, and aesthetic value within graffiti culture.
This article draws on conversations with local artists who began their practices within traditional graffiti frameworks but have since expanded into more ambiguous territory. Their work exists in a liminal space between illegality and institutional acceptance, graffiti and post-graffiti, wildstyle and anti-style. Reflecting broader tensions between subcultural authenticity and contemporary art discourse.
CAMILLO
All right, should we just get into it? So, what’s your name and where are you from?
URSH
Yeah, so my name is Ursh. I live in Melbourne, and I guess the Ursh project started a few years back in Amsterdam, the Netherlands.
CAMILLO
How did it start?
URSH
Yeah, it started off as a therapy, initially, a need to get out of the house. I was on a break from the traditional graffiti. Took a break for like, eight years, and I needed to get out of the house to basically cure depression. Getting back to graffiti initially was the idea. So I started leaving the house and painting, and that’s what, yeah, got me started.
CAMILLO
How about yourself, Brody? Where are you from?
BRODY X
My name is Brody. I don’t really have an alias or an artist name; it’s just Brody or Brody X, which is the first letter of my last name. I guess I’ve always been into drawing, but picking up a spray can at a young age had an immediate hold on me; it was like drawing, but with a level of thrill I hadn’t felt before. I started painting graffiti as a social thing. I was definitely influenced by the writers around me, but it eventually led me to art school at VCA. That was a trip; I was stuck in this tiny studio box being told to “change my shit” because it wasn’t a graffiti school.
I almost dropped out because trying to force a different style just felt wrong. Eventually, I realised that if I wanted to do graffiti, I should just do it on my own terms. I guess that friction is where the abstract stuff really started to come from. I stopped following the traditional rules and just started pushing my work further.
CAMILLO
So you went to school and studied. How about you, Ursh? Did you study at all?
URSH
I did Graphic Design School, which I dropped after the first semester. When I started there, I realised that everything is really subjective depending on the teacher you’re working for. I realised that, and to me, that was bullshit and too subjective. It was a school where you basically had to learn from your peers. I decided to stop and just work, you know? I can’t sit down and listen. I need to learn by doing. That was in Brussels, Belgium.
“For me, the work doesn’t have to be readable. It’s about watching, stopping, and looking. People will go by you and be like, ‘Oh, what is that?’ Embrace questions, and that’s what I think the work should be about, like discussion and questioning.”
URSH
CAMILLO
So, where does the name Ursh come from?
URSH
Before I was doing Ursh, I was doing traditional graffiti. And I’ve always paired my graffiti names with the music project that I had. I tried to find something that was close to it, and it had to be graffiti-friendly as well. So that’s why I chose the letters R and S.
U, R, S, H is a tough word to write in graffiti, but because of the direction that I took, it didn’t really matter at that stage; that’s why I picked it. The name doesn’t really mean anything. But Urshtay, which is the bigger project… comes from basically having a dream about an ashtray, and I realised the next day that it’s like getting rid of old habits.
When I was doing Ursh at the beginning, the purpose was to get rid of all the traditional rules, all the knowledge you have, and just do something you wouldn’t do if you were a typical graffiti head.
CAMILLO
Why do you think you wanted to change your style?
URSH
Basically, I was going through depression, and I tried to paint what I was doing in the beginning, but I realised I didn’t want to paint that, I wanted to just do what I wanted, and that’s why I went off all the regular codes and rules that graffiti has. I just wanted to be free.
Painting with Ursh helped me go beyond these rules and make my own. I still write letters that define the core of the work, but they’re no longer readable because, in the end, it doesn’t matter. For me, the work doesn’t have to be readable. It’s about watching, stopping, and looking. People will go by you and be like, “Oh, what is that?” Embrace questions, and that’s what I think the work should be about, like discussion and questioning.
CAMILLO
Brody, where do you think your style sits within the graffiti and the public art world?
BRODY X
I still do traditional stuff (graffiti). But the abstract stuff… I don’t know. It’s gone from letter-based to more abstract letters. It just doesn’t really look like letters anymore. Sometimes I’m not even doing letters. They’re just like shapes. I think it really depends on where I’m painting. If the wall is small, I’m not going to try to fit all these letters in there. The space really determines what happens.
I’ve painted just black lines and just a circle, and people are like, “What the fucks that, mate?! That’s a bit minimal.” But for me, it’s the action of doing it that feels important. In Melbourne, if you paint something minimal or abstract, nine times out of 10, someone will go over it. It almost doesn’t belong here. People aren’t very open-minded. It’s kind of looked at as if it’s too arty. It’s too much thought.
CAMILLO
How do you think abstract graffiti is received by the general public?
URSH
If you had to ask the general public what they would prefer to see, they would always say flowers, eagles and fucking portraits.
I read the other day that abstract art is the least favourite type of murals and public art. People need to see something they understand. Most of the time, someone who has no sensitivity will refer mostly to colours. They might love it, but they might also hate it. Everybody loves or hates something. If you watch something and there’s no emotion, what’s the point?
The discussion that you have with graffiti is very limited: “tags are disgusting, tags are vandalism.” What we do is create a very different kind of discussion. People don’t even question whether it’s legal.
BRODY X
People don’t like what they don’t understand. That’s why you see way more pretty colours, flowers, and birds. People can understand that. They can’t digest abstract work.
URSH
Before the 70s, there were no tags, nothing. Then the tag happened. People got used to the tag, and they accepted it. As time went on, people like us have come out and are showing a different landscape of that urban culture. There’s always going to be rejection of anything new. Anything that is new always needs a transition.
By doing what we do, we’re basically forcing people to do it. People who hate abstract stuff, they’re gonna have to see it because we’re putting it in front of them, whether they like it or not.
“People don’t like what they don’t understand. That’s why you see way more pretty colours, flowers, and birds. People can understand that. They can’t digest abstract work.”
BRODY X
CAMILLO
I’ve spoken to a lot of artists who find the thought of painting publicly really daunting. You guys have a big upper hand since you’re used to painting outside.
BRODY X
It’s the ultimate kind of putting yourself out there. It’s a very different route to putting yourself out there just through galleries. It can be very uncomfortable. There’s a certain internal pressure within the studio walls that you just don’t experience in the outside world.
URSH
The way I like to define what I do never really includes the word abstract. To me, it is post-graffiti. The mentality is from graffiti. You go in the street, you do your stuff. It’s just beyond these traditional rules. In Europe, that term fits this genre well. It’s a way of changing people’s perception of what graffiti actually is.
CAMILLO
What about you, Brody? Do you feel like your work is post-graffiti?
BRODY
Some of it, you could put that label on it. But I would say some of my stuff is definitely just abstract. Just because it’s on a wall in public, to me, it really has nothing to do with graffiti, except that I’m using spray paint. It’s definitely not a mural either. To me, murals are something kind of epic that can take weeks or months.
CAMILLO
Well, thanks so much for chatting with me. I really appreciate it, and best of luck!
Abstract or post-graffiti work can still carry the “OG” mindset of graffiti, independence, risk, and the act of claiming space. What changes is the need for readability. Rather than primarily demanding recognition, the work asks people to stop and engage, whether that reaction is curiosity, confusion, or even rejection. For both artists, moving away from traditional letterforms wasn’t a calculated pivot toward the art world, but something that emerged from frustration, mental health struggles, education systems that didn’t fit, and a need to work on their own terms. The departure from strict graffiti codes feels less about theory and more about instinct and about staying engaged with painting altogether. In that sense, it becomes a by-product of craving freedom.
0
