Peter Gibson is a Montreal street artist who goes by the nom de spraypaint Roadsworth (a wry spin on the last name of Andrew Goldsworthy, one of Gibson’s chief influences). Under cover of darkness, Roadsworth takes to the streets armed only with the homemade stencils and spraycans he uses to convert utilitarian paint jobs into pop art images. Thus an ordinary crosswalk becomes a row of birthday candles and a lane divider is transformed into a giant zipper. Some are amused by his work, others not so much.

Maybe this is my personal bias speaking, but I see the two camps breaking down roughly along these lines: 1) those who find his additions to the drab, workaday urban environment to be a cheeky, refreshing change of pace; and 2) uptight, humorless jackasses. This documentary by Alan Kohl presents a somewhat more nuanced view of the situation, even as it tackles that great question “What is art?” from a number of fascinating angles. Some of the uptight, humorless jackasses may actually have a valid point, in that Roadsworth’s embellishments could make it difficult for some people to interpret the original intent of the road markings. Also, since graffiti is a rampant problem in Montreal, who gets to decide that what Roadsworth does is art and what the taggers do is vandalism? Isn’t it all in the eye of the beholder?

When Roadsworth is caught in the act and arrested, the situation gets even more complicated. He is charged with 53 counts of mischief and faces potential fines totaling in the thousands, but then something astounding happens: the city of Montreal commissions him to do exactly what he’s been doing all along: defacing public property. Only now that he has permission, it’s called “public art.”

Not only does this development aid Roadsworth’s legal case – after all, as his lawyer points out, how can it be a crime if the city can pay you to do it? – it starts to change how he feels about his own art. In the second half of the film, Roadsworth travels through Europe, painting the streets and parking lots of France, England and Amsterdam, usually with permission. We wonder along with him whether the meaning of his work changes when it’s authorized – if it loses something when its outlaw, guerilla aspects are stripped away. Maybe it never meant much in the first place – Roadsworth himself muses that his stuff is closer to cartoons than high art – but what more appropriate way to kick off your SXSW than with a movie that contemplates art and its place in our society?