Hipster dream

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Gold face + ALESTINE

The thing I most love about graffiti is the layers. To create something new, you’re forced to cover and destroy the old. I suppose it’s been done forever- Greek bronzes were melted down to create Roman statues- but never with such a graphic, cluttered punch to it.

These are reflections that bubbled up as I peered through the non-haze of my candy cigarette on a trip to the Skinner’s Butte (legal) graffiti walls. In other words, anything written before or after (or between) this should be taken with the most least seriousness, in that hipster kind of way.

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Haze

Anyway, back to layers. Whenever I tag, I always wonder what might be under the surface of the ever-shifting canvas. All of the pictures ever painted on these walls exist within a multicolored millimeter of paint. What if I could peel it all back one layer at a time?

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The Living Banksies

It turns out no one looks very good in a straight-on shot late at night while tagging, which makes that creeptastic photo of Banksy (?) more understandable.

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Viking

I’m starting to, like, totally not care about this post. What does it even mean, you know?

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Did I mention I was wearing a tutu at the time?

I was.

Finite.

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