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Please enter email address We will not spam you. Almost finished To complete the subscription process, please click the link in the email we just sent you. Like what you're seeing? Please enter email address By submitting email you agree to get Bored Panda newsletter. We respect your privacy. We will not publish or share your email address in any way. Wenner soon learned to heed the ranting of several vagrants who were able to predict storms with uncanny accuracy. Every time they would mutter their warnings, he would instantly cover his work and head for shelter.

Wenner and Stader after Giordano. San Michele. Ostia Lido, Italy. The artists created this work in preparation for the festival in Grazie.

Once a storm passed, I would take off the plastic and wait for the ground to dry. The pressure of having to draw quickly increased my artistic ability, as did the exercise of copying so many great masterpieces.

Because my street paintings were copies and not original works, I was content to produce a vast number of them and then watch them disappear. Each one gave me invaluable information about color, form, and perspective on a large scale. Once a copy was finished, I had learned all I could from it, and was happy to have a rainstorm wash it away!

Wenner after Leonardo and Rubens. Battle of Anghiari. Rome, Italy. In the case of this composition, the original painting has been lost, and it can only be re-created by referring to copies of it. As Wenner worked on the streets of Rome, people would constantly offer him commissions for permanent paintings and drawings. Some kindhearted locals began to advise Wenner about who was trustworthy and who was out for a free painting.

They told him not to work for priests with churches in the rural countryside campagna in Italian , as such priests had no resources and would have him painting in return for hospitality. Unfortunately, the language still caused him to often misunderstand people. Three Archangels.

Another improvised composition meant to be seen from different viewpoints. One day while street painting, a priest with a magenta-colored cap approached Wennersaying that he had a church in Campania, and needed someone to paint the ceiling. Immediately Wenner assumed that this was the sort of priest he had been warned about and quickly told the priest that he was too busy to accept commissions.

Later he learned that he had turned down the archbishop of Montecassino, who had come personally to ask Wenner to paint the ceiling of a major cathedral.

Focusing so much on the idea of a church in the campagna , he completely forgot that you can identify priests, bishops, and archbishops by the color of their caps.

Wenner after Michelangelo. Wenner especially enjoyed copying the Sistine Ceiling frescoes. It was pleasurable to work on figures that had been conceived on a large scale. Two years later, an art restorer told Wenner about an important commission for the ceiling of a famous cathedral.

He remembered Wenner as well and was very cordial. Unfortunately, he explained that while he had possessed the funds to pay for the ceiling two years before, they were no longer available. On another occasion, a man in an elegant suit handed Wenner his business card, explaining he was a set designer for the great filmmaker Federico Fellini. He asked if Wenner would come work for Fellini. Wenner did not understand at the time that in Italy when someone hands you a card, it is an important invitation.

Fellini died in Not having full command of the language was difficult, but Wenner did not miss every opportunity that came along. Conversation with nuns. Rome was filled with clergy and pilgrims who were especially appreciative of the street painters. Ironically, he was invited on several outings by his East Coast alma mater, which besides telling him as a student that he had no talent to draw had also denied his application to its Rome program.

He felt privileged to be experiencing Rome on his own terms. Other people he met invited him to assist with archaeological digs, view hidden masterpieces, see long-closed churches, and climb through secret passages to vaults and cupolas in certain churches to view frescoes up close.

Wenner after Leonardo. The Last Supper. Loreto, Italy. The Last Supper was an all-time favorite of the public as well as street painters. The original is so faded that each street painter gives a different interpretation of the work. The Last Supper detail—St. One day as I was working on the street, a bearded man introduced himself as an art restorer and asked if I was interested in seeing the restoration work of the Sistine Chapel ceiling up close. I told him I was, and unbelievably, he returned the following day with an appointment.

When we arrived, the restorer was surprised that the Vatican guards knew me by name. As I climbed the scaffolding, I saw the meticulously rendered Signorelli and Botticelli frescoes. Then, straight above me, through an opening in the platform, an enormous foot appeared. After months of chalking on the street, I found myself imagining the arm movements he must have had to make to create the enormous forms.

Up close, I could see details that are otherwise not visible from below. Because of that experience, the ceiling is even more remarkable to me.

Public art. It is the people on the street who directly support the madonnari. Street artists learn quickly what the public tastes are. Eventually, Wenner did accept several large commissions from people he met on the street. Creating copies of masterworks in a permanent medium was not to his liking, and it was another year before he felt ready to create original permanent works of art.

The homeless meant no harm and merely hoped to profit a little from the people strolling through the city after hours. Since Wenner was familiar with the challenges of earning a living on the street, he empathized with them and thought about how he and they could both benefit. Once I began making original compositions on the street, it became more important to me to protect the painting from damage or destruction by the elements.

I wanted to spend my time moving the picture forward, not repairing damage. In order to make a little money at night after I had gone home, they would strip away the protective plastic and pretend to work on the painting, drawing invisible strokes with a cigarette butt in place of a piece of chalk. Wenner after Parmigianino. Madonna di Santa Margherita. In the summer, street painters follow the Italians in their migration from the cities to the coastlines and mountains.

They had a pecking order among themselves, so they worked out their various shifts of protecting the picture. During each turn, a man would pass himself off as the creator of the artwork, collecting all the gratuities and compliments. As he looked to be about seventy years old, with blackened teeth, he seemed to fit the stereotype of a street painter.

He had listened to Wenner respond to frequently asked questions and had memorized many facts and concepts and could now deliver his own lecture with great conviction and gusto. When a picture was completed and there was no rain, Wenner would occasionally take a break for a few days to enjoy the city and its endless treasures.

They proved to be invaluable, for not only did they look after the artwork, but also they enabled him to hold on to his prime location indefinitely. An unwritten law among street painters is that good sites are always available on a first-come, first-served basis. No other artist will take over an area as long as someone else is working on an image. However, there can be a race to grab a lucrative spot the minute it is empty, even if it is because rain has erased the image.

Advice to artists. She called out advice to the street painters and reminded the public to make a drop. I came to know many of the street people, such as an old crone selling roses. When my painting site was especially crowded, the Flower Lady would appear out of nowhere and push her way through the spectators.

Not again! I keep telling you not to paint these large, complicated works. What do we know about art? Forget these large masterpieces! You work for days, and does anyone understand it? Just look at these baskets—empty! You make nothing. Just paint some simple little Madonna, and then people will give you something! After they had dispersed, she would quietly circle the painting and pluck a couple of bills from each of the baskets as compensation.

Before departing, she would leave behind an offering of some particularly poor roses. Sorting coins. Italian banks did not exchange coins for bills, but when carefully counted and rolled, street painters could hope to spend them. Early street painters survived on bread, wine, olive oil, and an occasional coin received as donations for their work.

By the time Wenner began street painting, coins and small bills made up the bulk of the offerings. He depended on the tips he received, and the virtuosity of his work attracted such appreciation that it ended up causing a considerable problem: too many coins!

Most Italian coins were worth very little, which meant there were a lot of them in circulation. As a result, the banks refused to change them into bills or accept them for deposit, and very few merchants would agree to be paid with them. The baristas were shocked at the quantity of soldini small change. After a rapid-fire discussion involving much gesticulation, they poured the coins into the bags used to sell coffee beans and placed them on the scale to determine their value.

Wenner had to find other means to exchange or spend them. In order to possibly convince a merchant to accept the coins, Wenner needed to roll and carefully label them. Weighing coins. The Italian lira was a bulk currency. Pound for pound, its value was roughly the same as espresso coffee or parmesan cheese. Street painters brought home many kilos of coins each day.

Then, to be on the safe side, he would let a merchant know up front that he needed to pay with them. It took effort to convince others to accept the neat bundles as payment, but his efforts were rewarded with a good meal, an evening at the opera, or a train ticket for more extensive sightseeing. Eventually, his earnings enabled him to rent a room in a pensione across from the Pantheon. He also found a small room in a nearby piazza to use as a studio. He now had lodging and a studio in the heart of Rome, with his work site just around the corner.

He received roughly four thousand coins each week, which meant he could scarcely carry the heavy sacks away at the end of each day. In his studio, there were so many bags piled up that there was practically no room to move, and all the merchants he knew had already accepted buckets of change from him.

On one particularly lucrative day, he had to call a taxi, as the coins weighed too much to carry. When the driver arrived, he tried to casually lift the bag so as not to call attention to how much money he had made. In front of everyone, the handles ripped off, leaving the heavy bag firmly planted on the ground. The crowd instantly understood what had happened and went wild with laughter, applauding his good fortune.

Wenner after Barocci. The Deposition. Milan, Italy. This piece was photographed by National Geographic as part of a documentary on street painting. Luckily, Wenner heard about a pizzeria near the Trevi Fountain that was always short of change, because tourists would cast their coins into the fountain before deciding to buy a slice of pizza. Wenner approached the owner, who offered to take all the coins off his hands for a reduced price per pound.

It took several trips to transport all the bags from the Pantheon piazza over to the Trevi Fountain. The owner instructed his workers to accept the coins in his absence, most likely thinking there would be just a few sacks full.

When he returned, he discovered that his storeroom was full of coins. During Easter, Rome fills with pilgrims, making it the one time of the year when lots of artists arrive to work on the streets. Rather than compete for space, I suggested to several street painting friends that we work in groups and occupy four heavily trafficked sites. Because we were spread out all over the city, we needed someplace to store our earnings.

There were no legal parking spaces near my work site, and I figured the camper was too heavy to be towed, as the wheels had flattened under the weight of the coins.

By the end of the week, the vehicle must have had more coins than the bank itself. After the Easter festivities came to a close, Wenner and his street painting friends decided to take a day in the countryside to sort, count, roll, and divide up the coins. They packed a picnic of bread, sausages, cheese, and wine, and headed out to the hills of Frascati.

They set to work, but soon conversation and good food took over and no one felt much like going through the coins. As the light began to fade, they piled up the sacks and covered them with dry leaves, marking the spot for another day.

The group never did go back for the coins. When Wenner made his first street painting in Rome, he had no knowledge what laws might govern the art form. As it turned out, street painting is considered a valid form of popular art and is not illegal. However, it is a bit like parking in that it is legal to park in many places—but not everywhere.

The problem with street painting is that the legal spaces are not delineated, and asking for permission from the authorities is seldom effective. No official will deny permission, but they will rarely grant it, either.

The bottom line is that if you want to be a street painter, you have to accept the possibility of being moved on by the police. The vigili urbani. The vigili urbani were the branch of police who confronted street painters. The public would typically get involved and side with the artist.

Frequently, on the first day in a new location the police would show up in the late morning. Shopkeepers would typically call them when a street painter starts to work. Madonnari were not known for causing any threat; therefore, it would generally take the police quite some time to appear.

By the time they arrived, the image was usually well under way. The police tended to watch Wenner paint for a while before speaking with the shopkeeper, and they normally left without saying anything. Wenner had only one serious encounter with a particularly aggressive officer. Wenner would have normally tried to reason with the officer, but in this particular case he was working with a friend, a German baron who loved to act the part when angered.

The last thing he wanted was a real policeman showing up. Thanks to my friend, a carabiniere with the power of arrest was on his way! The officer arrived on a gleaming motorcycle, wearing an impeccable uniform. The vigile was by this time in a heated discussion with a crowd of angry spectators. The Romans always love a good show, and on my return I found our baskets overflowing. Madonna di Rimini. When Wenner tired of copying existing masterpieces, he improvised his own compositions.

Pictures such as this were done without preparatory drawings. The most dramatic confrontation with the police occurred in Naples. Wenner had just started painting when a police officer arrived and ordered him to move on. Wenner returned to the church and found the priest.

The priest said Wenner had his protection and, more important, the protection of San Gennaro. He advised Wenner to return to the painting, adding that the officer would have already departed. Wenner continued working on the street painting for a few hours before the officer returned with a companion.

By then, a large crowd had gathered around the painting. The officers politely attempted to pack up his supplies. However, the onlookers stopped them by unpacking everything and putting each item back in its place.

They lifted up the officers and carried them away. Counting Swiss change. After the Italian lire, Swiss coins were a dream. No matter how hard the work was, Wenner always felt a bit illicit counting the change at the end of the day, like a small-time crook. By midday, the streets were nearly empty and Wenner was still working, but not without a sense of dread. Off in the distance, he heard sirens approaching and decided he had better quickly pack up his belongings.

Retreating into the church, he looked through the door to see police cars pulling up alongside his work. He ran upstairs and interrupted the priest, who was eating lunch. Wenner apologized and explained that the polizia had just arrived. Wenner returned downstairs and peered out the door. He could see the polizia cars surrounding his drawing, which now looked like a crime scene.

Sensing that the protection of the priest was similar to that of San Gennaro, more spiritual than physical, he opted to put his trust in St. Peter and immediately returned to Rome. He never found out what happened to the painting.

Eventually, Wenner would receive a letter from the superintendent of culture, history, and monuments for the region of Campania. The letter gave him sweeping privileges to enter any museum for free and to create a street painting wherever he liked. A similar letter from the Italian national government provided a further talisman. Notwithstanding such high acknowledgments, the possibility of a confrontation never completely disappeared. Madonna of Lucerne.

Lucerne, Switzerland. Wenner improvised such pieces to study the perspective effects he would later formalize to create his illusionistic pieces. Wenner headed to Rome, looking forward to being back on its familiar streets. He had many pleasurable months creating large, elaborate paintings for the appreciative Roman audience. The year before, Wenner had booked a room at a pensione in Rimini, on the Adriatic coast, where he spent the summer working among the hordes of bathers that fill the coastline.

Always in pursuit of new sites and experiences, he decided to try summer in Switzerland. Street painting in Switzerland is not universally permitted. Wenner knew about the regulations in just a few cities, which meant the easiest way to find out if it was permitted in the rest was to start a painting and see what happened.

He was fined just once, in Montreux. The Swiss keep a tight rein on their cities with the help of surveillance cameras, and whenever a policeman approached Wenner the officer knew exactly where Wenner had parked and how long he had been painting, and even had a good approximation of his earnings.

The Bern Entombment. Bern, Switzerland. Wenner collaged together photographs of his early works until he found the proper lens to document his works. Life on the street in Switzerland is much easier than in Italy, and the pavement is so immaculate that there is never any need to wash it off before starting a painting.

The Swiss are also generous with their donations, which they consider to be a tip rather than a religious offering or a handout. My only complaint about working in Switzerland is the weather. Even in summer, it turns bitterly cold with icy Alpine winds the minute a storm comes up. The storms not only move in swiftly, but they drop a lot of rain and hail as well. Most of my paintings had to survive several bouts of rainfall before completion. When the weather was good, Switzerland was spectacular; there was no better place to be.

In Lucerne and Lausanne, I did paint beside crystal-clear lakes filled with elegant swans. The Swiss accepted street paintings with secular subjects, and this gave Wenner the opportunity to branch out from the traditional religious compositions expected by Italian audiences.

The tranquil environment, combined with the flexibility the Swiss showed toward the subject matter, allowed him to progress toward developing his own style of street painting and experiment with allegorical and mythological themes. On the sidewalks alongside the lakes, Wenner first began to refine and formalize the geometry of his anamorphic illusions. Like a true madonnaro, he eventually developed a circuit of lucrative and friendly cities to paint in, and his reputation grew as he traveled among Italy, Switzerland, and Germany.

Wenner after Correggio. Angel Detail. It has been about a third of a century since I first sat down on the streets of Rome with my tip buckets and started creating large pastel images. At the time, I expect there were a dozen or two practicing pavement artists in the entire world. Life was very different in those years.

Although I would prefer it if people bought the book, which contains many such stories, I know that it is difficult to obtain in some countries and would like this history to be readily available to anybody who is doing a paper, writing an article or making a presentation on the subject of pavement art.

An instructor declared that Wenner had no talent for drawing the human form, and advised him to choose an artistic path that did not include figures. Not long after, a guest lecturer recommended that Wenner burn his portfolio and start over. Wenner had entered the prestigious art college expecting to be initiated into the drawing secrets and techniques of the Old Masters, naively assuming that there would be wise teachers schooled in the disciplines of formal art training.

Blackened Hands. Young street painters generally find themselves blackened from head to toe. With practice, they learn to stay cleaner. The classic madonnari prided themselves on their ability to stay clean. At the time, I was quite young, and it was difficult to understand how to cope with such comments.

Eventually, I was forced to come to terms with the problem. Before the twentieth century, generations of art students studied perspective, light and shadow, anatomy, and other foundations of art in European classical academies.

While my attempts at figure drawing were not at the top of the class, none of the other student drawings were at the level of the academies a hundred years earlier.

And certainly nothing on the order of a Renaissance drawing was produced by any of the students or instructors. Based on what my teachers said, we had produced an entire culture that lacked talent! I knew this was not the case, and realized we had developed a culture that could no longer teach the foundations of classicism.

Drawing in museums. At the turn of the century, art students spent long hours drawing in front of sculptures from ancient Greece and Rome. In the early s, Wenner found himself the only artist drawing in museums. Over the past centuries, students laboriously copied the masterpieces of Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Leonardo, and ancient Roman sculptors, minutely observing each brushstroke or chisel mark that added up to greatness.

Wenner had long dreamed of such an education, but the sweep of modernism across the twentieth century art world did away with all rigorous formal training. Wenner found the distinguished school he was attending capable of offering him only an education that narrowly focused on breaking away from past conventions.

I had to face the fact that the classical academy of my dreams existed only in my imagination. My ideas and opinions were so out of step with contemporary art education that I often enraged my teachers and was branded a failure. Although I was not yet an adult, my ideas were considered anachronistic.

I was forced to choose between giving up my desire to draw the human form and changing my path in life. As instructor Harry Carmean worked from life models, he explained the drawing process to the students. To finally see an artist draw brilliantly was exhilarating and disturbing for Wenner.

For the first time, he comprehended that art was a process, an act of expression, as much as a final product. As with playing a musical instrument, the act of drawing existed only in time. Wenner could not imagine having that skill. I began to worry that I might not have the ability to draw in such a decisive and confident way. Fortunately, the teacher put my mind to rest, asserting that mastery of drawing did not ultimately require talent so much as an understanding of the rich formal and perceptual language of Western art.

The bad news was that formal training was a difficult study that required years of instruction and thousands of hours of practice. I was fully committed to the idea of mastering the language of Western art; however, there were no degree programs or any scholarship options that offered it.

He spent his time drawing extraterrestrial landscapes according to scientific information provided by the Voyager spacecraft, and creating conceptual paintings of spacecraft for proposed future missions. His job was one that many graduates dreamed of, but for him it was also a means of supporting his studies. Most nights and on the weekends he continued his drawing classes. While saving up for his studies abroad, he lived a monk-like existence, spending eighty hours a week hunched over a drawing board.

Finally, in order to save on rent, he camped out in a sleeping bag inside a defunct wind tunnel. Once a month, the NASA staff would send a supersonic airflow through the tunnel in order to maintain it in working condition.

One day, they fired it up on a different day than usual. Wenner searched for his sleeping bag, and while he never did find it, he did notice a fine layer of fluffy feathers coating the walls of the lab. With no place to sleep and a fistful of savings, it seemed like the right time to move on.

The Farnese Hercules. Naples, Italy. This study was done in the National Archaeological Museum in Naples. I had fallen in love with a study that seemed to have no future. The few students I knew who had spent the years necessary to master the art of drawing would often joke about finding eventual employment as body outliners for the local police department.

Ironically, in my case I would come extraordinarily close to this reality by eventually chalking figures on the street for a living.

Although the instruction I received at Art Center was brilliant, I felt a need to go to the source of the classical tradition in order to fully understand that tradition. Beginning around , the Grand Tour had served as an educational rite of passage. It was a trip through Europe with an emphasis on artifacts of antiquity and the Renaissance.

Young men often traveled with a personal tutor, who could explain the mysteries of art and cultural traditions to them. I was determined to make my own Grand Tour to study drawing. I bought a plane ticket, an Italian dictionary, and a map of Europe, because I had no idea exactly where Rome was! Wenner boarded the plane with just a handful of rock-bottom necessities that would fit into a backpack. With no bag in tow, he made his triumphant entry into Rome bearing a passport, a notebook, and a map.

I was completely unprepared to travel in Europe. My first impression of Italy was absolute confusion. I somehow made it into central Rome, and was nearly flattened by a bus when I attempted to cross the street for the first time. I had lots of experience with art, music, and culture, but little with life, and even less with travel or languages. It felt like a miracle when I reached the tiny room I had rented before leaving the States and plopped down on the bed. I wondered how I would ever survive in a city where I had to walk behind a nun to safely cross the street.

Head of Seneca. This drawing from a famous antique bust is one of hundreds of drawings Wenner executed in European museums to study classical drawing. It was , and Italy retained much of its Old World charm, customs, and beliefs.

The Italians still held strong regional identities, as globalization had not yet begun to homogenize the different cultures. The ancient traditions and art of the Catholic Church were seen everywhere.

Life moved at a leisurely pace, with plenty of time to enjoy a good meal and good company. As Wenner settled into his new surroundings, he got started on his to-do list, which he had designed to keep his educational project on track. The first thing was to get an overview of his new living classroom by seeing all the major monuments and museums in Rome.

I never knew there was such a wealth of art anywhere in the world, let alone packed into one city. I was used to spending time at different museums in the United States, but Rome was completely different. Museums in the States were heated and well lit, with small paintings spaced carefully on neutral backgrounds.

In Rome, much of the painting was in the form of vast frescoes, surrounded by sculpted moldings and painted and gilded decoration, and accompanied with inlaid marble. I was completely overwhelmed by the dizzying scale and richness of the work.

While watching the rain fall through the open oculus of the Pantheon on the fourth day, I knew I had taken in too much. Wenner working on St.

After less than a week, Wenner had come down with a bad case of Stendhal syndrome, a well-documented illness with flu-like symptoms that strikes tourists whose vision has become over-stimulated as a result of viewing too much grandeur. He spent the next several days in bed, looking up at the fuchsia-colored ceiling in his little room.

When the visions of frescoes stopped spinning in his head, Wenner decided to take a more organized approach and went in search of art schools. Unlike the sterile but clean halls of Art Center, these buildings were decrepit, filled with graffiti, and looked like the party headquarters in a third-world country that had suffered a revolt.

With much trepidation, I entered the Villa Borghese with a small drawing board, a pencil box, and a tiny three-legged folding stool. Unfortunately, I was alone in the large, echoing rooms. I nervously set up my stool in front of a sculpture and began drawing using a sanguine-colored pencil.

The early masters often used these blood-red-colored pencils for drawing and sketching. He spent months drawing in museums, arriving when they opened and leaving only when he heard the doors beginning to close. He spent day after day communing with the masterpieces, and grew to feel an intimate connection with the artists whose works he copied. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, Wenner sat for long hours on his stool, balancing a drawing board on his knees as he worked.

By looking at him, few would have guessed the level of skill he possessed. Occasionally, a visitor took the time to watch him work and observe his developing mastery. George and the Dragon. The work never reached completion in Rome due to many rainstorms. I spent vast amounts of time in the various museums throughout Rome, blending into the silence, which was interrupted by loud tour groups, shouting guides, and shrieking schoolchildren.

I was often asked directions and did my best to answer questions in fumbling Italian. Many Europeans stopped to ask where I had studied art, which served to confirm my suspicion that good classical drawing classes were as rare in Europe as in the States. In the many months I studied, I never once encountered an art student or an art class drawing in the museums. The exercises I was undertaking were invaluable and built on what I had studied in school. Unlike life models, the sculptures told stories about the artists and cultures that created them.

Merely looking at sculptures does not reveal this information, any more than looking at the cover of a book tells the story inside. Only by drawing them is the formal language revealed. I was finally beginning to obtain the skills needed to compose drawings in the classical tradition. Guards were soon greeting him by name, and each day tourists would crowd around him to watch him draw. Sightseers often asked to purchase a drawing, but it was the museum guards, insulted by the minuscule amounts the tourists offered, who became his patrons for drawings of the masterpieces they so loved and protected.

Wenner spent vast amounts of time in the various museums throughout Rome, blending into the silence, which was interrupted by loud tour groups, shouting guides, and shrieking schoolchildren. In the many months spent studying, he never once encountered an art student or an art class drawing in the museums. He is also probably the most famous on the Internet of all four 3D street artists featured in this article.

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