In the story, the alien looked like an octopus. I drew a bitmap image
based on the idea. Then I created several other aliens that look like sea
creatures such as a squid or crab.
(Camden, London, April 2007 and Near Victoria Station, Manchester, May 2007)
Whilst this ‘Space Invader’ character appears to have the same supplier and crack pipe as Mr. Nishikado (choice quote from his website: “Some people call me a polluter, others say I’m an artists. I prefer to think of myself as an invader!”), I just happen to think that he is a genius.
(Canal Street, Manchester, May 2007 and somewhere in the East End, London, April 2007)
Space Invader’s mosaics do not have a deep political message as such (‘The act in itself is political, as 99% of the time I don’t have authorization’) and he instead emphasises the ‘gaming’ aspect of his actions: ‘I’ve spent the past eight years travelling from city to city with the sole objective of getting a maximum score’. Space Invader then ranks his compositions as being worth between ten and fifty ‘points’, depending on its size, composition and location. From here, each invaded city gives a final ‘score’ that is added to his previous scores.
O.C.D. ahoy!
How does Space Invader know his ‘high score’? Simple. Because each mosaic is different, they are all numbered and indexed. Then selected information is given in the ‘invasion maps’, that Space Invader produces to not only help addicts such as myself retrace the history of a particular invasion, but also to make some pocket money as well.
(Whitworth Street, Manchester, June 2007 and The South Bank, London, April 2007)
It is at this point that it becomes evident that mosaics and cement are not as cheap as crack cocaine in La République Française. At the present date, Space Invader has produced fifteen of these maps, out of a possible thirty-five invaded cities, and they are available to purchase here.
“Plagiarists at least have the quality of preservation”
Whilst Herman Melville banged on about it being ‘better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation’, Space Invader seems to agree with Benjamin Disraeli’s sentiments, commenting that when he is sent pictures of Space Invaders in towns that he has never set foot in, he sees it as a positive thing (a ‘kind of tribute’). Also, whilst he does not ‘encourage this kind of copying’, he does not ‘especially condemn it either’.
Which is a good job really, seeing as lesser attempts at replicating Mr. Invader’s signature style range can range from average at best to darn godawful. Whilst I do not profess to be able to tell the difference on every occasion, a good yardstick to use is: if it looks like it was designed by an autistic amputee and then cemented onto the wall by a blind epileptic, then it is probably the work of a drunk student, ‘inspired’ at quarter-to-five in the morning after a binge at the local discotheque.
What lies above and below
Aside from the fact that the simplistic genius of Space Invader’s designs habitually succeeds in making me draw for my camera at speeds that would put Wild Bill Hickok to shame, the true pleasure in finding a Space Invader design is just that. Finding it. The designs can be half way up buildings, down alleyways, next to ground-level street signs – the list goes on and on. So, personally, I feel slightly proud when I spot one. Sad, I know, but I do not own a metal detector. Nor can I read archaic maps. Such little discoveries are my little pieces of modern treasure and they never fail to brighten up an otherwise dull day.
Next time you are in a big city, look up, look down and prepare to be invaded.
(Er... Canal Street, Manchester, May 2007)
I'm Simon. I'm 25 and I reside in Manchester, UK. I am living proof that man can live off Potato Waffles alone. At any given time, I'd rather be pillaging.