Work done illegally outdoors or without permission feels like

Hear, O seeker of truth, the daring words of Barry McGee, who declared: “Work done illegally outdoors or without permission feels like pure freedom to me. I understand how it can upset many in our society, but in the bigger picture, it is ultimately about freedom. We are living in a time where public space has become a commodity for corporations to control and dictate what is seen and heard.” This is no ordinary cry, but the lament of an artist who has seen the chains upon the city walls, and who dares to paint upon them the vision of liberation. His words are not a defense of mere rebellion, but a hymn to the sacred right of expression in a world where silence is often bought and sold.

In ancient days, the Agora of Athens, the Forum of Rome, and the markets of Babylon were not only places of trade, but of speech, debate, and expression. Public space was the heart of the people, the stage upon which the soul of the city unfolded. Yet in our age, McGee declares, these spaces are not free. They have been bound by banners of profit, adorned with the voices of corporations, dictating not what the people feel, but what they are told to desire. In such a world, the scribble of the artist upon a forbidden wall is more than defiance—it is the reclaiming of the commons, the reminder that freedom belongs to all, not just to the powerful.

Consider the tale of the Berlin Wall. For decades, it stood as a scar, dividing East from West, silence from song. Yet the people of Berlin transformed it with color. Artists came, often under the threat of punishment, to paint its concrete with cries of hope, visions of unity, and dreams of a world without barriers. What was “illegal” became immortal. What was condemned as vandalism became a symbol of liberation for all humanity. This is the truth McGee proclaims: the work outside the boundaries of permission often carries the deepest truth, because it refuses to bow before the guardians of control.

But his words are also filled with humility: “I understand how it can upset many in our society.” Yes, for order fears disruption, and property fears trespass. The guardians of walls see not art, but threat; they hear not freedom, but defiance. Yet history shows us again and again that the voices first despised are later honored as prophets. The prophets of old were rejected in their time; their truth came too soon for the ears of the comfortable. So too the street artist, the rebel, the dreamer, who dares to paint on stone and steel what the soul longs to see.

There is heroism in such freedom. For it is not the freedom of idleness, nor the freedom of indulgence, but the freedom to speak when silenced, to create when forbidden, to exist authentically in a world that seeks to dictate the terms of your existence. This is not only the cry of the artist with brush or spray, but of every person who has ever dared to speak truth in a council that demanded silence, or to live differently in a society that demanded conformity. To step outside the lines drawn by power is frightening; yet it is also divine.

Thus the lesson, O listener, is this: guard your spirit from the chains of those who would dictate what you may see, hear, and imagine. Do not despise the bold act that unsettles, for it may carry within it the seed of renewal. Seek freedom, not as license to harm, but as the sacred right to create, to question, to speak, to live. And know this: every public space, every shared place, belongs not only to merchants and rulers, but to the people, to the community, to the dreamers who walk its streets.

Practical action is before you. Support the voices that rise from the ground, even when they are rough, raw, or unpolished. Honor the art upon the wall, the song in the street, the protest in the square. Create your own expressions in whatever space you inhabit, even in small ways—a word spoken with courage, a kindness given without asking, a truth written where all can see. For these are the marks of freedom, and in them, the soul of society breathes again.

So remember the cry of Barry McGee: when public space is sold, reclaim it with vision; when the voice of freedom is silenced, let your own voice rise. For though corporations may dictate what is seen, they cannot own the eternal fire within the human spirit—a fire that will always burn upon the walls of history.