Fields of New York E-Book

N McNally

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 309

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

This book tells the story of various Graffiti artists from across Europe who have visited New York City for the purpose of Graffiti. The main focus of the stories is cast on the painting of New York City's Subway, true to the original works of Graffiti done back in the day of its beginnings in mid-1970.

Leseprobe

Me and you, 14 years of age. Too bold and cool for school. We got homies who do Hip-Hop. One is on the two and twos, one is spitting the lyrics, another one is doing the dance and all together we use the colour cans.

New Yorks largest export, 5 elements that give the youth a chance. Juvenile energy flows free and a passion is born within me. In light and darkness, we trust, the city is ours, courage grows I can’t get bust. Adventure, pleasure, adrenalin kicks. It’s not yet art, it’s friendship, me, you, I am Somebody.

My conscious is aware of a limitless horizon, wheels of steel transport the feeling of being real. Graffiti was a foundation of cheekiness, difference and confidence.

No fence was too high, no tunnel to deep, we always succeed. New York gave birth to what we live, a Kingdom at the end of our tracks. Definitely to be captured and conquered to crown your personal fame.

INDEX

INTRO

BACK IN THE DAYS YOU HAD TIME

THE GHOST YARD

THE STUNT TEAM

THE ACTIONIST

LUCA ALONE IN NEW YORK

CROSS CITY TROPHY HUNTERS

THE RASCAL

INTENSE PULSATION

1

BACK IN THE DAYS YOU HAD TIME

Growing up in a Paris suburb, Fluor discovered quickly while travelling into the capital for his apprenticeship that lots was to be done. Passion, dedication and good friendship where his key elements on his created path to recognition.

The last year of the twentieth century was a beginning for billions of developments. Think or imagine anything you like. You’ve begun to read my book. Why did I begin to write? Have you something in mind that you would like to begin, start with? Then just do it. After a while you’ll face a further decision, recalling and questioning your affection for the newly begun task. The rhythm of nature replicates it’s self constantly, so taintless juvenile curiosity gave birth to this man’s primal actions with colour markers. Growing up in a suburb of Paris, neighbourhoods were covered with tags and pieces which were then surrounded by other public scribblings, attracted the attention of this young man developing and living in the middle of it all.

Every boy and girl consciously or unconsciously looks out for an activity of a kind and eventually will find something of their own. You know yourself the various possibilities that have existed since man and woman began to scratch an itching body part to a human plunging itself towards the depths of a valley with a parachute that’s supposed to open.

So, this young man found out for himself that his mind and senses occupied with forming a personal consciousness were being enlarged through graffiti.

The suburb was his playground and world, while Parisville still lay in a faraway distance and wasn’t considered for extended outings yet.

Our lad gladly embraced the activity and attitude attached to graffiti and he titled himself Fluor. Seeing the different styles and tags in all their quantity, Fluor realized rapidly that, to him it was all about outdoing the existing graffiti. Find a better more exposed spot to paint and place an even bigger piece or tag there than the writer did before him. The activity on the streets suited him much more than the compulsion within the school system. Fluor’s teachers and others responsible for him accepted his disbelief in school and he was sent, also in the year 1999, to Parisville to begin an apprenticeship. Fortunately for him there was a spray can store near his education training where he permitted himself to self-service. Well not quite, he bought one can and the other two cans were for free. Fluor’s aim was to fill his daily traveling routes between suburb A, and B Paris with tags and pieces. This included his public transport lines, the motorways side walls and the streets of Paris leading to his apprentice school.

Unfortunately for Paris did the shopkeeper only notice Fluor’s behaviour later than earlier, making Fluor run out the store onto the city’s streets with the shopkeeper on his heels.

By now he was familiar with most of the paintable surfaces and was trying to combine quantity and quality to an equal balance. Like many another, Fluor had his close band of brothers and they valued their friendship highly, which was also put above Graffiti activities and still maintains itself till today. Within the subway painting scene, where Fluor will soon emerge into, social contacts are different and kept impersonal and are short lived.

In the meantime, Fluor remained active with a thriving appetite for more. His area of activity grew larger and more diverse across the French metropolis. The aim for a young man like him was to go all city. To conquer the town and the advertisement industry by out doing their gained publication surfaces, so that yourself, becomes more present than them in public space.

In technique that means to be visible on every metropolitan bus line, tram line, subway line wall and every suburb transit line adding on the motorway walls in and outside of town and last but totally not least your presence in every neighbourhood and town arrondissement.

Slightly comparable with ambitions of climbing a career ladder. Movement, passion and courage are vital and not to forget, discipline rewards the perpetrator. In 2003 and 2004 Fluor mostly went underground to fill the scarce vacant spots in the metro tunnels. During 2004 on one of his numerous painting walks through the Parisian metro tunnels he occasionally bumped into parked subway train compositions. At this time, he did not feel enabled to paint this new surface. Never the less he felt curious and yarned to expand his artistic endeavours. So, a one-minute piece, as described was set on a green and white metro wagon as a first experiment. Which left him and his friends realizing later on that night that a whole new world of possibilities lay ahead of them.

The atmosphere that hangs in the sticky and warm tunnel air, surrounding the prominent transportation object invaded the senses of these young men. The guys fell under the spell of this nerve tickling challenge and submitted themselves to the subway game. Fluor and his friends knew it was a different league and they felt ready and confident enough to take the city’s transportation company with all their different employees on. There would follow an intense game of hide and seek and paint.

Pleasure overtook Fluor and he enjoyed his venturing into the semi dangerous activity. Along with all the other developments which over took his body and consciousness. Not everybody could do what he was doing, it was special, secret, hard core and reserved for the brave. He knew and felt its significance, but him and his friends realized that they were not alone in the tunnels. Numerous human tunnel rats were crawling through the same hatches and passageways of the Metro system below the parisienne boulevards like them. The tags and pieces left behind in the tunnels gave life to the unseen participants till now, who then slowly began to emerge into Fluor’s newly discovered world. Tags accompanied by their executing figures where suddenly standing in front of him. He had only heard of these individuals through stories or seen their pseudonyms while travelling through Paris. Once he met a writer or writers as a crew, information relating to certain painting spots and places got requested, shared or was kept secret for self-benefit. The Paris Metro system is so big and challenging, everybody involved wanted to be as good as possible up to date with the various activities of the other crews. One could explore future possibilities by one’s self, misrelying on anyone’s help, which would give you respect and acknowledgement within the scene.

Fluor’s attitude and intentions towards the scene were upright and positive. He kept on noticing more and more a kind of deceptive hypocrisy hidden behind the questions and actions of other writers. It wasn’t his intention to conquer the (to him inexistent) rivalling competition, take what it may cost. To prove that he and his crew are the toughest, slickest and menace bunch of lads reaching out for the top position in the graffiti field. Which was, accompanied by admiration and respect for executed achievements. Experiencing new thoughts and feelings surrounding his life and the scene where changing his perspective, which eventually led to his substitution and abandonment of the in-official RATP game.

Two years past without Fluor engaging in any metro Graffiti related activities. Maybe the distance he looked for in the meantime from the graffiti activists did him good, because in the year 2007 Fluor and a friend made their comeback on the metro’s of Paris.

It was the perfect time for Fluor’s comeback because the whole metro painting scene of Paris was in full swing doing whole cars, t2b’s and a quantity of panels on most of the underground lines. This continued for a couple of years till eventually in the year 2010 the RATP thought they had to take action against the on-going activities in their properties. Enough was enough and the RATP intended to regain the upper hand over the transport system and show who was actually in charge. Their internal security forces got expanded and the communication with the police department was intensified while technical sensors and surveillance got upgraded and shortly after the harvest began. Arrests were being made leaving many a writer worried if he would be the next to be paroled off to court. Fluor became anxious as well making him realise that the bold and cheeky days were probably going to decline and that their approach towards painting activities had to be seriously reconsidered. Painting missions now, where done once a month, accompanied with a more professional approach.

Fluor and his friends kept their game even tighter and more to themselves. Actions were planned well in advance and weren’t getting pushed to full hardcore anymore and unnecessary risks were reduced in hope of more safety from prosecution.

Most of the time the missions went well, rarely did the guys have to flee from the spot and when they did have to run, the escape routes were clear from the beginning. They even used technical equipment and not everyone included in the action was there to paint. Some were there to provide security for the painters. This more professional approach to the game with its required handlings didn’t mean the fun and pleasure got larger, it was rather the opposite. The addiction to metro painting stayed consistent, but the most important reasons for doing it were slowly withdrawing themselves from Fluor. He began to reflect what he actually was doing. Why was he functioning and operating more like a robot on the missions? Why was his passion dissolving and why was commitments grip letting go of him or him letting go of her? Was professionalism distinguishing his love for the game or was it rather life and it’s mysterious paths that were attracting personal evolutionary thoughts in his mind. It’s a stressful life when you’re always in a state of alert, in fear of that door being knocked down any moment or just having to disappear in a shitty cell for a couple of weeks. The parisienne cops were doing detective work and the guys who had chosen an employment with the police, really fancy themselves and enjoy the liberties accompanying the membership in that band of brothers. Bumpy knuckles. Abuse of their sovereign positions to disillusioning extents.

An invitation reached Fluor letting him know that he was warmly welcome to visit the city of New York. He had learnt rather late about NYC’S Hip-Hop history and wasn’t too familiar with its virtues. Till now he had been living the NYC Hip-Hop lifestyle but the parisienne way. American music, movies, clothes styles made in the USA had brought him joy and got him interested. He was glad to book a flight allowing him to spend a month in NYC at the end of 2010.

Arriving in New York, he embraced the lights, the people, the buzz and straight away began to feel the weight of history as he rode through the tunnels and over the bridges of the New York City public transport system. Going along he noticed the importance of the subway too the cities citizens. A couple of days past by before his friend arrived from another north-eastern American city leaving him in the meantime to himself. He enjoyed the space his friend’s absence gave him. In this short time, he had begun to feel at home.

His style of dwelling was similar to the European Interrail way when traveling, being able to use the apartment of his host who had recently left Paris for work in the city of New York. He camped out on the floor of the house without any fuss. You’re having a great time all a long and it doesn’t really lie in the nature of an Interrail writer to moan or groan about his sleeping situation. Three weeks were set aside to explore and see what New York had in hand for Fluor and his friend. The last week of their stay was going to get sacrificed for the challenge of putting their name up, up on the city’s subway. The last week of his vacation arrived quicker than he had thought, and plans had to be made for that vital stage. In the meantime, Fluor and his friend had commuted all over the city in search of a suitable spot for their mission. It wasn’t an easy choice for them when they saw the number of various layups and yards spread out over the entire city.

One afternoon as they were strolling along, looking and examining places of interest our two men bumped into a bunch of young writers, well that’s what they called themselves. Like one does, Fluor and his mate spoke with the boys and Fluor mentioned the subject yards but these boys weren’t keen on sharing any information about the certain, known to them. Never-the-less they wouldn’t have to depend on them, because Flour was capable and willing to lead the two of them. The big yards up in the Bronx got ruled out due to the brutal barbed wire fences and the constant labour in and around the subway cars. Underground spots didn’t get mentioned. Maybe Fluor and his mate didn’t like the idea of being closed in that tight. In a writer’s emergency situation, needing to flee the scene as quick as possible, tunnels don’t provide many getaway options.

All along though, Fluor had kept one spot in mind since he had arrived in New York. It was an elevated layup on a bridge on the J line in north-east Brooklyn.

Arriving there, quietness had surrounded the spot and it looked cool to him. He knew other guys who had painted there before, so it should, he thought, work out fine to get their mission done here.

A couple of days before Fluor and his friend had set out for their action had they met some old school Yankee writers and among them, was the living legend SEEN. A well-known figure to most writers all over the world. He stared himself in the famous Hip-Hop movie STYLE WARS. You could see him engaged with his passion, Graffiti, on the NYC subway back in the eighties. Till today he has stayed faithful with his tools and passion, involving himself in the Art world. When Fluor and his mate had told SEEN what their secondary intentions were in New York, he laughed at them and couldn’t really understand their goal.

“Hey man, those days are long passed. I was up like many others, as you hopefully know. Today you ain’t even going to see you’re piece running, so what’s the point. And these subways nowadays aren’t even American. Today’s cars are Asian made, the real New York American made subway wagons are becoming artificial reefs in the sea just off Coney Island. Man, this is toy shit, but if you want, I can give you KRYLON cans from back in days. They’ll give you an impression of how we did our pieces.”

Fluor and his mate found his proposal to cool to reject and gladly accepted his offer.

The clock was advancing towards midnight as the two men left their dwellings with their old spray cans. Only a few people were sharing the subway with them as they made their way through New York to the chosen spot. Some people had their gins lowered on their chests, others were reading pocket books. Whilst the general person was stroking or touching his mobile phone. Fluor and his friend were sitting next to each other, backpacks between their legs and their thoughts devoted to the upcoming mission. Peace and quietness filled the otherwise rattling subway wagon as it rolled up the stations on its way towards the end of the line. Every now and then Fluor and his mate gently broke the quietness to exchange some details about their mission. Both their faces expressed determination and their nerves were relatively calm. Their intentions were to carry out their piece if the situation allowed it, then there would be no reason for them to turn on their heels. The subway arrived at the station where the parked train composition of desire lay waiting for them. It stood just a couple of hundred meters beyond the stations platforms. The men weren’t going to approach yet, because they had planned to pass the object of desire twice by subway to get a first glance of the spot for anything sus pious (peculiarities). Back they rode, and all looked well. Now was the time for them to leave the station, imitating tired workers. As they walked down the stairs of the station and out into the surrounding neighbourhood, one could think they were home-goers. The surroundings below their parked composition had to be looked at for suspious goings-on, such as cop alike people sitting in cop alike cars or dudes in pairs, pretending to be chill’in on the block. After getting an oversight, our painters conclusion of things were going their way. Now back in the deserted station, the two were able to descend down the platforms steps and run carefully, making as least a noise as possible, towards the gently shimmering silver colossus. Reaching the nose of the subway train they slowed their pace and came to a stop between two carriages. With caution they climbed up over the hanging cables and chains connecting the two carriages and excited by what they were doing, entered the wagon in a merry state. Once inside, the view out through the windows was overwhelming. Below them lay the dimed streets and as far as they could see twinkling golden lights were all around them. Standing in that dark wagon, gazing outwards, made Fluor feel like himself was in STYLE WARS and what he saw was truly the US and A and he was assured that he would accomplish the mission.

Patience was still required from both of them as they sat down in the wagon to wait for the operating subway to pass. Afterwards they would have vacant tracks for approximately twenty minutes. The subway train, the one they intended to paint, which was also the one they were sitting in, was set between two tracks on which the night service operated. Till now nothing strange or suspious had occurred to Fluor and his friend during their observations and safety checks. At last it was time to place the caps on to the KRYLON cans. Fluor chose to paint his piece with fat caps. These caps withdraw the colour from the cans under an intensified pressure. This widens the colour line more than other caps do. Two colours were set for the fill-in of his five-letter piece. Another colour was for the background of the piece and to his serious distaste he only had black for his out-lines. Normally he wouldn’t use black because he prefers colour out-lines. And to give his piece that essential gleam or shine, white was waiting to get used as well. A gentle screech pierced the night’s quietness as the upcoming subway train came to a halt in the nearby station, bringing both men to their feet.

As soon as the subway train had passed, the lads will exit the wagon the same way as they had entered, meaning those dodgy cables and chains will slightly be in there way again. Here she comes, and the wagon filled itself with light from the passing subway train. Out the door they went, probably not to return to the inside of a cosy sleeping New York subway train again. Over the cables and chains, they climbed down onto the tracks. The two-looked left and then right to ensure that everything was really okay. Feeling comfortable they withdrew their KRYLON cans in front of the painting spot. Fluor pushed down the cap on his can and a thin jet of colour emerged from it, but only for a couple of seconds. To his dismay, the colour now, was squirting out from beneath the cap and not through it. This meant his spray can was having an overkill and it required a cap that withdrew the colour with less pressure. A sort of agony overcame Fluor as he was forced to change all the caps on his cans. Never-the-less he had to continue and get over the disappointment as quick as possible. Time was running, and the next subway was down the line on its way to them.

The caps were replaced with skinny ones which release the colour with less pressure. Fluor tried to accelerate his painting speed to catch up the lost minutes, but those KRYLON cans wouldn’t let him achieve it. The cans were slow, the colour was dribbling down the surface and the whole situation began to make Fluor’s nerves bubble. “Fuck!” thought Fluor as he realised that the remaining time wouldn’t be enough for him to finish his piece, so he decided to expel one letter out of his name. After that decision he finally was able to concentrate better on what he was doing. The action wasn’t going exactly how he had imagined it too go. Whilst painting he looked at his flanks, where he saw his mate working away on the subway. The scenery and atmosphere around them made it worthwhile.

Fluor finished his piece, stood back, looked at it and nodded to himself. Better than nothing he thought. His friend needed a couple of minutes longer to finish, so Fluor tagged the names of friends around his piece to greet and acknowledge them.

Although everything was going fine, Fluor’s instinct was pushing him to leave the place. Come on, things had to go a bit quicker, because the operating subway was due to arrive. Two flashes rapidly lit up the surrounding darkness and their colour work was instantly visible and captured on camera. A last look back at the spot and their production before their minds set their legs into running mode. Through the night’s fresh air, back towards the stations platform the two men ran where they arrived, just in time to throw away their cans and mount the operating subway train. On entering the warm carriage, the two sat down. The palms of their hands met each other in mid-air as they clapped too seal the accomplishment. Drinks in the form of ARIZONA Ice Tea followed as they waited in a lively bar for dawn to come and lighten up their panels. At day break the two went back to the place of their acquired freedom. Suddenly a great idea sprung into Fluor’s mind while they were standing beneath their painting spot. The main door of the building opposite their pieces was surely possible to open with a credit card. From there they would be able to take pictures from the houses roof. Rooftop doors in New York are always accessible and open most of the time. As easy as it sounds, so easy was it done. The two were up on the roof where they had a wonderful 360° degrees view of the urban scenery. The background in daylight suited their colourful pieces sitting there on the shiny silver subway train perfectly. This was the kind of scenery Fluor liked their pieces embedded in. An honest backdrop like this residential surrounding. He didn’t like places artificially touched by the hungry progressive people who were trying to widen the gap of realities. City scenery with symbolic monuments or famous artefacts in the background didn’t touch him and could turn the result of the action into a holiday postcard.

What the two men saw didn’t disappoint them. Their names were clearly leadable and thinking what had happened to Fluor’s cans, it was excusable. On the other hand, it was still the New York City subway with their pieces on it. Their passion chill’in there in Januarys morning sun light. Pride swelled up in both of the men’s chests as they took their remembrance and proof photos at their leisure. Tired and a bit warn down from the night’s activity, the two lads feeling content, set off home for some hours of sleep.

Later on, Fluor and his mate met up with their other friend living in New York and together they met some dinosaurs of New York graffiti. “Yeah man we did it, everything went fine except for that moment when my colours went squirting all over the place.”

“Where and which line did you paint?” asked one of the old schoolers. “The J line,” they replied. “Sorry guys don’t want to disappoint you but that ain’t the proper subway. Did no one ever tell you that the numbered lines are the real deal!”

“Fuck it” sprung immediately in to Fluor’s mind as he listened with despair to this fellow speaking. When he heard this his pride was hurt and his feelings went from elation to desolation. Two days of anxiety, work and energy, to be told afterwards, it ain’t the real thing. Fuck, this shit it ain’t over yet, Fluor thought as he met his friend’s eye and expression. Looking at each other both exactly knew what had to be done. Straight afterwards, further yards containing the seemingly real subway trains got inspected and checked out. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on their side at any location of interest. There was no realistic opportunity to be found for a fresh action for them. A couple of nights sleep settled the most of their disappointment and their hopes of achieving the predicted goal was postponed to another time and visit.

To lender their soft aching hearts, Fluor and his mate accepted a final invitation. Meaning they were led by the hand to a further action up the east coast in a city that was equipped with an underground system before they left for the old continent. Sitting on the plane among all the different passengers, Fluor’s thoughts were of a warm and grateful nature. The New York City subway won’t be his biggest achievement in the painting game, but maybe his future visits to New York will change his mind or he’ll set himself totally different goals that have a larger purpose and meaning to his life.

And don’t forget that there is possibly no wrong time to give that newly found interest it’s worthwhile beginning.

2

THE GHOST YARD

Having seen the Graffiti documentation movie style wars on National television in 1983, Balwin out of Germanys Rheinland,wanted to be part of the letter writing element. Being close to Graffiti’s springtime, New York city called out for Balwin to come and see for himself.

Sheets of white paper filled with colourful sketches are scattered upon the low living room table set in front of the sofa with Balwin sitting upon it practicing his styles. Simultaneously but unnoticed by him because of his deep occupancy a remarkable evening sky is drawing itself, viewable through the square glassed holes in the wall, together on the horizon above New York City’s boroughs pulling the days last light out through the room’s windows leaving space for the advancing darkness to spread out inside the room. If Balwin would lower his pencil for a second and guide his eyes away from the sheet of paper in front of him and follow the retreating rays of light out the window would he be able to join other admirers watching pumpkin orientated colours in the sky being mixed and exchanged by the minute with intense and darker tones until nature settled once again for its eternal night colour. Emerging out of the kitchen comes Why-U’s voice startling concentrated Balwin who realises instantly that it’s too dark for drawing. “What did you say?” replies Balwin as he gets up to switch on the light. “Seeing you so absorbed with your styles, has me wondering if you’ve got your letters wright for this evening,” asks Why-U who was in the kitchen sowing up a hole on the front side of a coat of his. “Yeah man with light in the room I think I know which styles I’ll use tonight and it’s alright for me to do a whole car ay Why-U? I really want to get that burner done tonight. I hope things will go our way and bless us all the way,” he continued. “Don’t worry big boy, as long as no rain comes the New York way, we’ll be rule’n that yard tonight. Everything you need to get your whole car done is available inside the yard. You just get yourself ready for tonight’s performance and our intrude into one of the worlds’s greatest subway yards you’ll ever get to see and be able to experience,” Why-U confidently convinced him.

Why-U was now standing in the door frame wearing his fixed down coat and grinning at Balwin. The expression on his face was suggesting that the night’s excursion was probably going to be better than anything Balwin had experienced before. Noticing Why-U’s comfortable mimic, Balwin’s thoughts already slipped off into the yard with him getting his dream done in a style and fashion close to the glory days of New York’s graffiti. He could remember Tierra another New York writer and friend of his talking about the time when all the subway trains of New York were full of Graffiti. Carriages covered from top to bottom with high quality pieces, called burners, were running in traffic. Till the Mayor of the city in 1982 had enough of the crime attracting art, as they say, and came up with the idea of giving the carriages a fresh coating to clean the situation up. His idea got realised and seven thousand subway carriages came out of the maintenance centres repainted in white winning the project the nickname “the great white fleet” referring to the white fleet in Detroit after racial unrests.

Imagine being a writer then in that moment. One must have had a two-sided sense. On the one hand the drag of loss and extinguish (expire) but also the feeling of gratitude underlined with instant eagerness to get going on their freshly repainted work surfaces. A clean start again. Round two for all the various actors involved in the game.

History Growing up in Germanys North-Rheinland region in the upcoming hip-hop era, Balwin first made contact with the culture in 1984 through his participation with the element Breakdance.

One out of five elements defining Hip-Hop. He is between the age of twelve and fourteen and fitted with a genuine amount of testable independence granted to him by his parents.

Breakdance is a vibrant and physical skilful engagement with music which requires a strong alertness to one’s coordination of the singular body part movements accompanying the rhythm and bass beat of a Hip-Hop music track. Breakdance like any other dance style needs a lot of intense practice and dedication. When able to master a whole figure connected with the wright footwork like the turtle or the bridge you can compete your moves with other dancers and join a battle ceremony held mainly between two or several crews. The crew whose individual dancers, who can also compete in pairs or form a bigger unit of participants to produce a string of moves, impress the onlookers the most shown through loud cheering with their all-round style and ability win the battle. Beside this new developing element of Hip Hop in his region Balwin became aware of a further element popping up on buildings and trains.

Through the screening of the semi-documentary movie STYLE WARS followed by other films like WILD STYLE and BEAT STREET on national television and in nationwide cinemas in 1983 many German youths were directly confronted with this new culture form emerging out of poor neighbourhoods in New York. A flare of excitement and adventure circulated throughout the film creating in many a young man and possible also in women a curiosity for its art. On Balwin’s way to school or in train station buildings he would frequent and use as a playground after school with friends to mess about and exchange news and one’s mysteries of growing up he independently noticed tags and pieces coming into existence around him.

Their existence appeared to him as rather strange and when standing in front of a wall piece he hardly was able to decipher its letters. Seldom pieces were already running on the regional trains like the ones in that particular movie STYLE WARS and it seemed to him that many of the boys he spent time with were tagging and involving themselves in such actions as well. Inspired and interested by what he saw he decided independently to create and engage on his own behalf designing a load of small stickers containing his tag name. He stuck them up in and around his school. Following shortly afterwards came his primary will to execute a Graffiti piece so his first encounter with spray cans took place. Once darkness had spread and offered anonymity he set out with a can and drew his Outlines upon a wall of his school. Seeing the first part of his effort finished he went home intending to return the following night to do the pieces fill-in and complete the Graffiti which he briskly did.

It is the year 1986 and Hip-Hop culture here in the North-Rheinland has firmly wiggled its roots into human life through the actions and dedication of its growing number of participants. Close by, a couple of hours travel by train or car lay the harbour city of Amsterdam which had developed till now the most active and vibrant community of Hip-Hop culture with a notable influence into many other communities across Europe. The city’s walls and Subway carriages gained an immense use and were obliged to hold the out numerous names of writers participating across the town. The Hip-Hop community in the town objectively undeniable received naturally awareness and attention from its visitors which was commendably passed on in the developing scenes in the surrounding towns and cities. So, one day Balwin was taken along by his parents for a holiday to this famous to him City.

Once in Amsterdam the young tall and slender growing boy who is now about fifteen years old seeing the all-round extent of his equal occupancy was eager to engage himself with local writers and cooperate. Being a writer, your outer appearance could be estimated by another writer due to your choice of style and the colour spots sticking upon you. Having found a can store or brought some along on the trip Balwin set out looking for a place in town where he most likely would meet his equivalents. Coming across a Hall of Fame he set himself up creating a piece. He wasn’t alone on the wall and shortly afterwards inquiries got exchanged among the young men present. Passing time together the locals put forward an invitation to Balwin if he desired to join them on a Metro painting action in the next days. This being his first opportunity to paint upon a train which he certainly had given thoughts too in the meanwhile eagerly and happily accepted their friendly invitation.