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Monday, February 23, 2015

How to Graffiti

Step one, realize you're not banksy.
Step two, get an idea
Step three, get paint.
Step four, go paint
There's no real way to do street art because of all the different methods and kinds of graffiti
Its expressing oneself in a form of art
Anyways you're going to want to find a surface to put your art on, different kinds of graffiti art for different surfaces, think about it, the texture and the size are going to be in play for an aerosol artist. Some artist don't use paint, for example the graffiti artist “fafi” uses flowers  she puts up chicken wire on a fence and sticks the stems of the flowers through it, There is also an artist called invader who uses tiles. Second thing you're going to want to do is get your idea and your colors. You should probably draw what you are going to do on paper first. If you're not into it being illegal, talk to someone that runs the town or, someone who owns the building, but if you don't want to deal with that stuff I’m not going to be the one to take away creativity. Clean the surfaces you are painting on, more well-known artist prefer to use a power washer. After this you are going to want to lay down a coat of paint so your art or tag can pop out more. The rest is all you.

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

My Graffiti story, Part 1

It all started in New York City, south Bronx to be exact. I just got home and my mother was already yelling at me, I just ignored her and said “yeah,yeah I’ll do it later” as I walked straight to my room. I jumped quickly to my bed and I start to think of the art I made that night, all the art that was just made that night. I wake up two hours later for work, I moan with a growl when I sit up, dreading that I have to work so I can support my deadbeat mom. As I’m getting ready I put markers in my bag so I can tag on the way to work, my mother doesn't support my habit of “destroying property”, It’s the only way I can go out and express myself. As I open the front door to leave, my mother yells to me “take the trash out!” I sigh to myself and grab the trash. I open the front door again and I quickly heard three loud bangs, I just frown and continue on my way. I wave politely to the cop that sits in front of my apartment building; he doesn't seem to care about the gun shots that went off. The subway station isn't too far my house, that’s how I get my job in queens. i work as i sandwich maker in a rundown deli, I get underpaid most of the time and my boss treats me like a caged gorilla. As I’m getting on the subway I see that the sides were recently bombed, I couldn't read the tag names or else I would have missed the train. I start to look for a place to tag my name: somewhere that would catch the eye. Obviously I just write it on the seat I’m sitting on because I didn't want to be noticed.

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