As Seen on the Streets of London is the second volume in the self-published series by Giulia Blocal Riva, brings together the voices of eleven London-based artists and nearly 300 pages of stunning fine-art photography by Paolo Giannotti. The book offers a vivid, ground-level portrait of London’s creative ecosystems: its alleyways and canal paths, its moments of quiet spirituality, and its bursts of rebellion and reinvention.

What began as a straightforward research project quickly turned into an unexpected chase when Banksy’s London Zoo series erupted across the city, pulling Giulia into neighbourhoods she hadn’t planned to explore and reshaping the book’s narrative. Through these detours  and through countless studio visits and long walks – she constructs a polyphonic map of London, where street art is not a static form but a living conversation between artists, communities, authorities, and the city itself.

Artmag sat down with Giulia to talk about the book, how street art transforms the city, adapts to its rhythms, and shapes the lives of the people who live in it.

Your book brings together the voices of eleven London-based street artists. How did you decide whom to include? What criteria or instincts guided your selection?

The book is structured around the voices of eleven London-based street artists, supported by shorter contributions from many others. In choosing the main artists, my intention was to represent the breadth of London’s street art scene in the widest possible sense.

Some began their careers within the graffiti movement of the 1980s, while others belong to a younger generation shaping the city today. The group includes artists born and raised in London, alongside others who arrived from elsewhere in the UK, Europe, or further afield and chose to make the city their home.

I was equally attentive to differences in medium and approach. The book moves from paste-ups to abstract murals, from figurative painting to installations, and from unsanctioned interventions to commissioned works. Yet its true depth lies in the artists themselves. Their personal perspectives and insider tips reveal multiple Londons: one artist is drawn to the spiritual atmosphere of Chinatown, another to the city’s food culture, others to its parks and canal paths. Together, these voices reflect not only a wide range of artistic practices, but also the character of London itself. A city shaped by overlapping histories, cultures, and viewpoints, and defined by the constant exchange between them.

These books are born quite literally in the streets — from walks, studio visits, and spontaneous conversations. What was the most unexpected or moving moment during your research in London?

The most unexpected moment during my research came when Banksy returned to the streets of London with his London Zoo Series, appearing night after night over the course of two weeks. I had no idea it was about to happen, nor any sense of how long it would continue, but it immediately upended my plans.

I cancelled all my scheduled studio visits during that period and followed the trail of new works as they appeared, moving quickly across the city each time a new piece was unveiled. That chase took me into parts of London I might not otherwise have explored so deeply. In the end, those detours reshaped the direction of my research and several of those areas naturally found their way into the book.

Artists shared their favourite neighbourhoods and hidden corners with you. What became your personal discovery — a place you might never have found without working on this book?

Many corners of Walthamstow, a north-east London suburb that has since become my favourite part of the city. While I was already familiar with its most well-known murals, working on the book led me to explore the area much more extensively, uncovering hidden streets, independent shops, tiny graveyards, and unexpectedly picturesque corners.

The artists’ stories form a polyphonic portrait of the city. Was there a particular insight or remark that stayed with you long after the interview ended?

I am particularly fascinated by the perspective of artists who are not from London, nor even from the UK, yet chose to move there and make the city their home. I find their gaze on London more romantic, shaped by distance, discovery, and a sense of chosen belonging.

Paolo Giannotti’s photography shapes the visual soul of the book. Do you have a favourite image or series — and what makes it meaningful to you?

I am drawn to the way he works with light, particularly in photographs taken just after a rain shower, a familiar condition in London. As most of the images were shot in summer, the light often takes on a warm, golden quality, catching and reflecting in the wet surfaces.

Street art lives its own life: it disappears, mutates, reappears. Was there a moment when you felt that London itself was “speaking” to you through its walls?

Yes, there were several moments like that, but they were rarely tied to a single artwork. They happened when I began to notice patterns rather than individual pieces. A wall painted over overnight, a new intervention layered on top of an older one, a work altered by weather or by passers-by. In those moments, it felt as though the city was responding rather than simply hosting street art.

London speaks through accumulation and erasure. Its walls are never definitive. They carry traces of different times, intentions, and voices, often contradicting one another. While working on the book, I started to read those layers as a form of dialogue. Not something lyrical or sentimental, but a steady, sometimes abrasive conversation between artists, residents, authorities, and the city itself. That is when London felt most present to me, not as a backdrop, but as an active participant in the life of its streets.

Self-publishing is an honest but challenging path. What was the most difficult part of the process — and what, on the contrary, gave you a sense of total creative freedom?

Before I began, I honestly did not expect self-publishing to be this demanding. I approached it with a romantic, and in hindsight quite naive, idea of creative freedom, and at the time that felt like the only thing that mattered. Reality, of course, is more complex. Self-publishing is a real challenge, particularly when it comes to reaching new readers. Not those who already know my street art blog or my professional work, but people who discover the books by chance. Convincing bookshops to stock a self-published title is another major hurdle.

That said, I enjoy the challenge, and we are committed to continuing this series as a self-published project. I value the freedom it gives us, especially the ability to let each book adapt to the specific character of a city, rather than forcing the city into a pre-existing format. That was a recurring issue when I pitched the project to traditional publishers, who often asked me to reshape the idea to fit established book models they were already producing.

I also find traditional publishing to be slow by nature. Publishers are managing many titles at once, while we concentrate all our energy and attention on a single book at a time. Being able to focus so intensely makes the entire process more agile, more responsive, and ultimately more aligned with the way I want these books to exist.

Your books function as travel guides, visual archives, and deeply personal journals all at once. How would you ideally like readers to use them — on the street, at home, or as companions they return to over the years?

Ideally, all of those ways. The books are designed to be practical tools, but also visual objects meant to be lived with over time. That is why we developed two different formats to support these uses. The pocket edition works as a compact travel guide, easy to carry while walking through the city, while the larger, coffee-table format is intended to be enjoyed at home.

The texts and photographs are exactly the same in both versions, but choices around format, paper, and printing specifics are adapted to enhance each experience. What I always like to underline is that these books are not “just” travel guides. They are not only something you buy before visiting a city and then put aside afterwards. They open up critical reflections on the specific character of each city’s street art scene, offering perspectives that go beyond travel in the conventional sense. In that way, they can also be read as a form of cultural editorials, offering context, critical viewpoints, and longer reflections on the role of street art within the social and historical fabric of each city.

When meeting the artists, did you notice something that unites them — a shared attitude, energy, or way of relating to the city?

I selected the featured artists precisely to bring together the most diverse group possible, so in many ways they did not share a single attitude or way of working. Their backgrounds, practices, and relationships with the city are very different.

That said, there was one aspect of London that every artist mentioned, and genuinely praised: its multicultural nature, and the way different cultures, histories, and communities coexist within the same urban fabric. This is something I also see as quintessentially London, and it was striking to hear it echoed so consistently across such a varied group of voices.

You pay special attention to hidden, off-route places. What would you advise someone who wants to “read the city” through its street art for the first time?

I would recommend using my books as a starting point, but also allowing yourself to get a little lost. Street art thrives on discovery, chance encounters, and the pleasure of stumbling upon something unexpected. The book is not designed to replace that experience, but to complement it.

I see my books as a tool to deepen understanding rather than to dictate a fixed route. Through historical context, insights into neighbourhoods, and the voices of the artists themselves, it helps readers read the city more attentively. At the same time, it leaves space for spontaneity and personal exploration. The goal is to encourage a more active relationship with street art and public space, allowing readers to build their own paths and mental maps of the city, guided by curiosity as much as by information.

Comparing the Paris and London editions, what did London give you as an author? Did this city change your understanding of the entire As Seen on the Streets of… series?

The Paris book was very much a pilot, which is why we refer to it as number zero. With the London edition, the series really began to take shape. The research feels more complete because I was able to refine a process that already existed, rather than inventing everything from scratch.

That said, through conversations with readers, I realised that some actually prefer the structure of the Paris book. I think this is quite subjective and often depends on how familiar someone already is with a city or with the artists featured.

From my perspective as an author, London gave me clarity. It helped me define a working method and a structure to build upon. Paris was a continuous experiment, including very basic decisions about what should or should not be included. London confirmed the direction of the series and gave me a more solid framework for its future.

And finally: if you were to start the next book tomorrow, which city would you choose — and why?

In fact, we are already working on the Lisbon book, which we hope to release in September. I have already interviewed 13 Lisbon-based street artists and selected 10 key areas to focus on.

Lisbon offers a very distinctive framework when it comes to art in the streets. Its history ranges from the political murals that spread after the Carnation Revolution in 1974 to pixação, a graffiti style rooted in São Paulo (Brazil) that found its European outpost in Lisbon. At the same time, it is a city where the municipality has been commissioning, producing, and strategically planning urban art interventions for almost twenty years.

This long-standing, institutional approach has positioned Lisbon as a pioneer in active placemaking through urban art, with no real equivalent in Europe. Its impact, both positive and problematic, is something I am particularly interested in examining, also through the perspectives and critical voices of local artists.