I've started painting again! This one is small only 23 X 31 cm.

It's based on the freedom tunnel, but I changed the graffiti a bit.



It feels a little flat, I need to do something with more depth next.

This is how I painted this same subject three years ago:

In August 2002 I visited High Bridge Park in Washionton Heights and was surprised, delighted and appalled by the graffiti I found in the section of the park under the sweeping curves of the entrance and exit ramps to the Cross Bronx Expressway. I created this painting in an attempt to capture what I loved and hated about the graffiti covered red wall.

When I visited the parks again, only a month later, I started to grasp the true nature of the situation. Most of the graffiti I'd observed before had been painted over with bright red paint, but despite this, new tags had appeared on top of the fresh coats of paint. Over the next 5 years I'd see this process repeated many times.

I began to wonder how "the authorities" had been drawn in to such a childish and sysiphisian battle over public surfaces, and I began to wonder why graffiti removal had a higher priority than other aspects of park improvement. As the park department battled teenagers with paint over the dreary walls of the expressway overpass, the park lamps remained broken, the pavers continued to crumble from the steps in front of the red wall and the park continued to fail (at least in this area) to serve the public.



There is a popular philosophy in law enforcement and urban planning known as "broken windows." It states that cosmetic improvements and battling so-called "quality of life crimes" are the key to establishing public order. However, the "broken windows" has failed in the case of the great red wall. No amount of paint will make this place a destination for regular neighborhood folks, the kind of destination that is self-policing through the presence of people engaged in ordinary daily activities.

Creating public spaces that work requires thought about how those spaces will be used. Since the steps are broken and since there is no illumination after dusk, since there are no park amenities in this area, no water fountains, no picnic tables or grilling stations there is no good reason to walk under the noisy expressway except to tag the walls with graffiti or, if you work for the city, to paint over those tags. The primary activity for this space is painting the wall. (Or, in my case observing and enjoying the drama of the wall being painted, over and over!)



The only people who use this area sensibly (myself included) are the people who have dogs, who seem appreciate having and area where they can let the hounds off-lease for a bit. Hence, the correct solution to the graffiti problem is to stop worrying about painting the walls, fix the broken walkways, fix the lamps and install a dog run. This will make the area a destination, and alleviate other areas of the park from unsightly dog mess. The increased use will deter graffiti and, at some later date the more unsightly tags can be removed and they will stand a better chance of not returning. We should, however consider keeping some of the more artistic works, they're a part of the history of the area and an improvement to the oppressive blank walls of the expressway.

Cosmetic improvements are important, but it is the changes to the form of a public space that dictate how it will or won't be used. A park that isn't used by anyone but graffiti artists is rightly a graffiti park, and if we want to change that and expand the number of people who can enjoy that space we'll need to build in such a way that people have a reason to be there. Tagging and "untagging" alone won't have any lasting impact.

60 million dollars have been budgeted for park improvements. Let's hope that they are used wisely.

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Burnt-out buildings, dreary overpasses, the rust-stained walls of desolate parks, underground passageways, rail yards, the least loved and lest visited subway terminals and neighborhoods all of these places collect the lively scripts of graffiti. Like hieroglyphic weeds the names of the artists call out in bright and surprising color. On the grimmest city blocks it may be the only color in sight. When the adults, the authorities and the city government have all abandon these places graffiti flourish and sing out defiant responses: This place is not forgotten, not by everyone. Not by me. I am still here. I live.

Graffiti are the glowing embers of civic energy, signs that in the gray places rebirth is still possible. Because it is not for money, but for glory, not for dollars but for art that people risk arrest, and at their own expense create public artworks that cover every unloved surface in the city.

Of course, anything in excess may become a nuisance. And a graffito would be a mere mural if there was not that constant battle between the unbridled creative energy of the people and the forces of law and order.

We can, at least, learn to see graffiti in a new light. Not as a tragedy of blight, but as a sign that life is still glimmering in the ashes of the burnt out regions of wounded cities from which the civic spirt might yet rise again.

Last: 6. Passing Through
Next: 8. Naming Places

From: The Urban Naturalist.

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Even the most hardened and unromantic rationalist knows what a sacred place should be. It is usually a place with some historical significance. It may be a great building, a monument, or a patch of unmarked land whose power and history is passed on through stories or religious practice. It is not a place one would merely pass through, rather, it is the destination. Most of the time, it is a public place. It may have rules, spoken and unspoken, that help us to feel the energy of the place. It may call for quiet, a tribute in candles, or a splash of graffiti.
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Last: 3. The Living History of a City
Next: 5. Living Sacred Places

From: The Urban Naturalist.

An Exit
Watercolor on hotpress paper. 16" by 20"
Based on things I saw in the Freedom Tunnel, NYC

The freedom tunnel is famous among urban explorers. The images I have seen of this tunnel were what started my interest in urban exploration. But, I had not seen the tunnel for myself… until today.

The tunnel was built by Robert Moses in the 30s so that the trains could run while still allowing riverside access in the park—oddly the expansion of highways the same area by Robert Moses effectively blocks easy access to the river … but the mixed nature of Mr. Moses civic projects is a whole separate topic.

In the 1950s the tunnel was abandoned. Trains no longer ran along riverside and the giant, man-made caverns became a haven for homeless people. At its height hundreds of people lived in the tunnel. In the 1970s the tunnel was reopened for trains and a massive (and brutal) eviction followed. The shanty towns were bulldozed and the tunnel was chained off.

Through the 70s and 80s graffiti artists and a new more secretive population of homeless people visited the tunnel creating artworks and a network of secret homes and entrances.

Today I walked the entire length of the freedom tunnel (from 125th to 66th st) with some other urban explorers who were kind enough to show me the way.

Here are the photos I took— I hope you enjoy them…though, nothing compares to the actual experience.


( enter the freedom tunnel )