Today, I am en route to Amsterdam! I had a great time in New York as usual. I spent time with great friends, explored new places, and found time to finish a few art projects. I always leave New York feeling like I could've done more, but I suppose that's the nature of the city.
I will digress momentarily to recount a mural project that became a three day event. Upon arriving in the city, I messaged my friend Lauren, inquiring if she knew of a Brooklyn rooftop that I could paint on. I had a few drawings that I was itching to get onto a wall. She referred me to her freind Shelly, whom I'd met once before at a house show. Shelly happily agreed to grant me access to her roof, and the next day, I went to her apartment building on Jefferson Street with paint and sketches. I started the day off with a vampire charachter that I thought would be fun and challenging to paint. I worked back and forth with black and white paint for a couple hours, then added a red-orange background for him. It looked great, but there was a lot of negative space in the bottom of his cape. The solution was obvious- 'Broooklyn!'
I was pleased with the charachter and moved on to paint the biggest wall on the roof. It was a few buildings down, and markedly the nicest roof of the block. I boisterously walked over and started painting a piece of graffiti. I was a couple hours in when I ran out of black paint. I took a walk to the local hardware store and bought a new can of rustoleum, then headed back to the building, where I'd left a playing card in the door jam to ensure that I would not be locked out. When I returned, the card was missing and I was locked out, but I knew it wouldn't be hard to get back in. The neighboorhood had a relaxed feel to it and I knew the firest person who I saw going in would likely let me in too. While I waited, I struck up a conversation with Gato, the local alcoholic stoop-sitter. I told Gato about my rooftop project and showed him photos. He was stoked. He began calling over his friends to show them, one of which was a young man about my age named Abel, who it turns out also wrote graffiti. Abel gave his credentials, crews that he is affiliated with, which were quite impressive. I told him that I'd be done with this mural soon, and I'd happily give him whatever paint I had left over from the project. He agreed and we designated a stolen shopping cart across the street as the drop off location. A friendly woman entered one of the buildings that led to the roof, and agreed to let me in. My first order of business on the roof was to put on some tunes from my phone, dance around and pee over the side of the fire escape, which in hindsight, was a mistake. Not two minutes later, an angry old man climbed onto the roof from the very spot which I had relieved myself to threaten to arrest me for trespassing. I gathered my things, apologized for any inconvenience and exited the building, where I relayed the story to Gato, then went home.
I felt a dilemma which I'd thought I'd surpassed, one in which what I saw as positive change was perceived by others as negative change. It plagued me for the remainder of the night, but I knew I had to finish. I sceduled with Shelly to return the following day, so I could wrap it up. I only had about 20 minutes left on the peice. The following day, I went on the roof, confidence renewed, to finish the peice. I was painting well. As I made my way over the door section of the wall, someone began beating violently on the other side, startling me. A hispanic man stepped out of the doorway, followed by his girlfriend. He seemed really pissed off, and immediatly began interrogating me on how I got up here and my motives. I told him the truth, that I was from Florida, I'm visiting a friend in one of the buildings that has roof access, and I thought it would be a positive thing to make art up here. (It should be noted that the roof was already COVERED with tags, layers upon layers of them). He argued that he would have to paint over what I had done. He said there was someone up here yeaterday too.
"I think that's the same kid," said his girlfriend. She began calling a name down the stairwell, to check if her intuition was right. She was calling for the first old man that had kicked me off the roof. I apologized as before, packed my things and left again before we could confirm that I was one in the same. From here, I took a walk around the block to consider my options. I decided it was best to leave the peice alone. I returned to the building to put the paint in the shopping cart for Abel, but when I returned, there was an NYPD van parked out in front of the building. My heart began racing. I walked around the corner and hailed a cab. Things were getting serious, I had to get away from the scene of the crime. I caught the attention of a cab, the driver of which rolled his window down and told me that he had to drop off his passenger, but I should just follow him to the spot, around the corner. I followed the cab around the corner, back onto Jefferson Street, where he parked just behind the NYPD van. I hid behind a group of large hispanic men while I waited for his lady-passenger to gather her things, pay the driver, and exit the vehicle. I took off my hat and combed my hair backwards like a greaser in case I was described to the officers as wearing a hat. Regardless, I had a substantial beard, I was the only white person in a five block radius, and I was carrying a vintage baby blue vanity suitcase. The cab driver waved me over, and I hurreidly walked to the car, where I quickly impllored him to pop the trunk so I could throw my things in and look less suspicious. I jumped into the cab and declared, "to Red Hook!". The cab driver turned to me and said he needed an exact address. I insisted he start driving, he held his stance. I looked up the first Red Hook address I could find, my attention split between looking at my phone, and out the window at the NYPD van. Off we went, I asked the driver to drop me off at the F train, where I found my way back to the apartment to gather my things. I had a flight to catch later that night.
I thought the peice was a lost cause, so I decided to return to the scene of the crime to put the paint (now in a trashbag) in the spot whic Abel and I had agreed upon. When I got to Jefferson street who did I see but the second pissed off hispanic man who kicked me off the roof. I hid the paint in the shopping cart as promised to Abel, then walked up to the hispanic man. I introduced myself as the kid on the roof and told him that I would like to explain in full what I was doing earlier. He explained his side to me first which mostly had to do with the fact that he woul;d have to buy paint to go over what I had done. We came to an understanding of each other's points of view, and introduced ourselves. His name was Sammy. All seemed well in my world now, and I made my way to Leah's house to share the story with her before I caught my plane to Amsterdam. We lost track of time in conversation, and I left in a hurry to catch a cab to JFK. I arrived at the airport ten minutes too late for check in, and fought like a fish to remedy the situation, but there was no way I was getting on the flight.
I rescheduled my flight for the following evening, and thought about my options from here. At first I thought to stay in the airport, then I thought perhaps I'll go back to my temporary apartment in the Lower East Side. Then inspiration hit, of course! I could stay with Shelly and finish my peice in the middle of the night!
I called Shelly with the proposition. I am lucy she is such a welcoming host, she agreed. I made my way to her place where she and some friends were playing video games late into the night. When the friends went home around 3, I let SHelly know it was time to strike, and that I'd see her in the morning if all went well. This has turned into a covert mission. I snuck onto the roof as quiet as a mouse. rolling my feet from heel to toe, creeping slowly towards the wall. I hid my bag of paint behid a stairwell eve feature, and picked two colors to work with at a time. I crept to the wall, applying spray paint in a calculated manner until I felt the piece was finished. I stepped back and stared, then went to bed.
In the morning I took a photo, then went to breakfast with her frineds Zac and Jay.
After breakfast, we walked back to Jefferson Street, where we saw Gato sitting on a stoop. He recognized mme immediately. I told him that I'd finished the peice, despite oppopsition. I told him that I met the man who kicked me off, his name was Sammy. Gato laughed, Sammy was his son.
"Don't take anything Sammy says seriously." he said, "he just had to kick you off because his girlfriend is the super."
We had laugh and parted ways. I will remember Sammy and Gato if I ever return to Jefferson street.
Later that night I boarded my flight to Sweden where I share this story with you.
