Originally published in INtake on Sept. 6, 2007.

This week, INtake returns with its annual fall arts preview. Inside, you'll find a comprehensive calendar of the broad spectrum of art events taking place in Indianapolis over the next three months: dance and theatrical performances, gallery exhibits, classical concerts and more.

But there is one kind of art you won't find in the pages of that calendar: street art.

Street artists don't make art for galleries. They don't pay public relations people to promote their work. And they aren't trying to sell you anything. If you want to see their work, all you have to do is go outside, walk around and keep your eyes peeled.

Sticking it to the streets

Indeed (an alias) is tall and rangy, with several tattoos, including a revolver on his left arm. He wears a black and red T-shirt with the words "A Global Threat" scrawled across the top. He hands me a couple of stickers that he made, which bear tiny characters.

Indeed, 21, has wanted to be an artist since he was in middle school. But after realizing that local galleries weren't likely to be interested in his quirky, cartoonish paintings and drawings, he made a decision.

"The streets are my gallery," he said.

Indeed is sitting in the newly finished office of PEEL -- a magazine devoted exclusively to street art. PEEL owners Dave and Holly Combs are sitting next to him.

The office is in the back of a spacious gallery in the Fountain Square district. On Sept. 7, the Combses will open the gallery, which will be called Alias. Like PEEL, Alias will exhibit the work of street artists from around the nation and beyond.

"We have been praying for 31/2 years that we would be able to give the artists the space they always wanted," Holly said. "Who better to give it to them than us?"

Holly Combs often refers to herself and her husband as the mom and dad of the street art scene. They are fiercely protective of the street artists they work with.

Holly and Dave believe an increasing number of artists are drawn to street art because traditional galleries are out of touch with what many young artists are doing.

"He should be able to get into a gallery," Holly said of Indeed. "But these other galleries have different values and a different aesthetic."

When you look at PEEL magazine, you get an idea of the aesthetic the Combses prefer: mostly character-based art that is more informed by popular culture, more subversive and generally more playful than what you'll find at most wine-and-cheese affairs. And as the name of the magazine indicates, many of the artists featured in its pages are in the business of creating stickers.

"Putting a sticker up, it's small, but it is a little painting," Indeed said. "It is getting your artwork to an audience. If it can make one person smile, that's an accomplished goal right there."

Holly, sitting next to Indeed, rubs her eyes.

"I am totally crying," she said. "Because that is exactly why we do the magazine."

'Not anti-anything'

It would be easy to look at their punk fashion sense and tattoos and conclude that Dave and Holly Combs are your average reactionary counterculture devotees. It would also be dead wrong.

Dave delivers thoughtful, soft-spoken answers to my questions, and acknowledges the ethical problems with street art. He has even thought of spearheading an effort to encourage artists to use removable stickers. "It's responsible," he said.

The couple has two young children, and Holly's maternal nature is hard to miss. A neckline tattoo of the words "You are beautiful" frames her face in a florid cursive script, like a necklace.

The Combses are devout Christians. They have been criticized by some of their Christian peers for supporting an art form that involves breaking the law. It hasn't quelled their enthusiasm.

The Combses say they love street art because they believe everyone deserves a voice. Unlike many of the artists they promote, they do not strongly align themselves with the anti-corporate world.

"There is a lot of hypocrisy in the corporate world," Dave said. "But there is also a lot of hypocrisy in the anticorporate world. We don't want to buy into that, either. We are not anti-anything. But we are pro-individuals being able to speak their voices, and giving them the opportunity to get their ideas and messages out."

When leafing through PEEL, you'll notice one form of street art that is conspicuously absent: graffiti. "Graffiti already has plenty of publications devoted to it," Dave said.

Holly bristles at how some graffiti artists look down on sticker artists. She calls the evolution of street art from graffiti to stickers -- which take less time, cause less damage and are less dangerous for the artist -- "smart."

"With stickers, you have less chance of being caught," she said. "Because of that, I think graffiti artists see less value in it. But I think stickers are smarter and more creative. Graffiti artists say, 'This is what is real, this is the roots.' It is the roots, but these other forms grew out of it, and they are just as wonderful."

Back to the roots

There is nothing particularly wonderful about the grimy neighborhood where the American Tent and Awning building sits on the city's Near Southside. Formerly a Frito-Lay factory, the building is surrounded by rundown homes, narrow, pockmarked streets and sidewalks riddled with weeds and cracks.

Amid the dreary scene, the exterior walls of the American Tent and Awning building beam with a dazzling display of color, shapes and lines.

The owners of American Tent and Awning allow local graffiti artists to use the building as a canvas. Last weekend, more than 50 graffiti artists from all over the United States and Canada converged there, using their aerosol cans to create a rousing sequence of murals, scripts, and scenes.

The occasion for the massive graffiti collaboration was the 2007 Subsurface Midwest Expo. Ben Long, one of the local graffiti artists who helped launch the event in 2004, says that the residents in the rough-and-tumble neighborhood enjoy how the graffiti-covered walls brighten the neighborhood.

"It's the perfect atmosphere for graffiti," Long, 27, said. "They love graffiti there. It is kind of a neighborhood beautification process, and the people like seeing it change all the time."

Long, who works as a senior graphic designer for the Carmel-based media production company Mediasauce, has been a graffiti artist since he was in high school at Ben Davis in the mid- to late '90s.

"I grew up in a neighborhood without many kids around, so I would walk the railroad tracks and see trains go by and think, 'I could do that.' I met some other guys who took me under their wing and showed me what the culture was."

While Long thinks of graffiti as art, he knows that many are initially drawn to it for the rush of lawbreaking.

"There are people in for vandalism-slash-anarchy purposes, there are people in it for mural purposes and there are people who are in it for both," he said. "I know a lot of people who might spend a good majority of their time working on these elaborate productions but will still go out and tag just for the adrenaline rush."

Tagging -- the spray-painting of a nickname on public property -- is the most common type of graffiti. Gang members tag to mark territory; troublemaking kids tag simply to make trouble.

Although Long is an accomplished graffiti artist who has often worked on commissioned murals around the city, he is still tempted to paint illegally.

"I personally can't hate on (tagging) because that's where I come from -- where my roots are," he said. "But I don't participate in it too much any more. I'm getting too old; I've got back problems. I don't need to be jumping from rooftop to rooftop dodging police anymore."

Early 2007 saw a sharp rise in gang-related graffiti activity in Indianapolis, and the city has responded with a crackdown. Long, however, believes it's important to remember that there is a distinction between territorial tags and the work of skilled artists. The difference, he says, can be seen in the smiles of the people who live in the neighborhood around American Tent and Awning.

"Every time we paint there, people come up and say, 'This is awesome, I just love waking up in the morning and seeing the new work and seeing the work that is already there,' " Long said. "We have been thanked by the older people in the community who have been there forever. There is a church nearby that thinks it's great. It brightens their day."

A mural a day

Even the most benign street art is often driven by fiercely independent individuals who favor a grass-roots, do-it-yourself approach to life. Take the case of Phil Barcio, 37, who started the Fountain Square Mural Project because, in his words, "I was disgusted with my neighborhood.

"I was in my alley, and there was so much garbage," he said. "It was just accumulating. I didn't want that, so I decided I was going to paint a mural and clean up all the trash back there."

Then it occurred to Barcio: If he could enlist the help of other artists and get permission from neighborhood home and business owners, it could be a neighborhood-wide venture.

"My thinking was, if we could get people to travel through these alleys with the intention of looking at what is there because it is beautiful, it would provide social incentive for homeowners -- they would suddenly realize they have foot traffic in their alleys and maybe that would inspire people."

Barcio quickly added, "It may annoy people, too, I know."

Inspired by Balmy Alley, a mural-covered area in the heart of San Francisco's Mission District, Barcio sent an e-mail out to all his friends he thought might be interested in the project.

"The e-mail was basically a rant -- 'We should do what Balmy Alley did, we should all paint murals and transform this neighborhood. It can have a real transformative power.' "

To Barcio's surprise, a number of individuals and business owners responded enthusiastically to his idea.

"I was astounded by the positive reaction," Barcio said. "I actually have had more than 100 people contact me and say 'Hey, let's do this.' Businesses and residents, the neighborhood association SEND -- a city councilman even wrote us a check."

One offer Barcio turned down was from the Arts Council of Indianapolis.

"They were very generous and offered to give us money, but the tradeoff was that they had to approve all the work before it went up, and we were opposed to that."

"They were also opposed to artists working on this for free," Barcio said. "But I felt like, 'We're all going to do it our way, and we're not going to listen to anybody. We're just going to do it.' "

Without the funding or organizational powers of a large government or nonprofit entity, the Fountain Square Mural Project has suffered from the slow start that plagues most low-budget grass-roots initiatives. Barcio had originally hoped to have 25 murals done for the Sept. 7 First Friday. But due to scheduling conflicts, only 10 may be completed. But he doesn't consider that a disappointment.

"I refuse to let that define the success of the project," he said. "To set out to transform society, I think, is a little megalomaniacal. I remember thinking I was going to do that when I was a kid. I think you gradually learn that every experience you have is a personal one, and if you can transform yourself through something you are doing, then that's a great place to start."