American Graffiti.

Some people call it ugly. Some people call it art. I call it urban enhancement.

Dumped On.

Dumpsters are easy targets. They’re out of the way and not really owned by the resident of where they’re usually placed. And since they hold garbage it doesn’t really matter if they look trashy. Is that a fair description of this dumpster, though? There’s something impressive about the number of artists who’ve used it as a canvas.

011 012 013And then there’s this strategically placed sticker. This is social commentary on the level of—I’m not kidding—Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal. It’s ironic and kind of funny, but also sad when you think about the real implications.


Rock On.

Technically this isn’t graffiti, unless you define graffiti as any kind of defilement of public property or signage. I’d call that a stretch. I’d also call this sign awesome. I love it that Nashville wants to promote its live music venues by, well, designating them as live music venues, but better than that I love musical groups using that sign to promote themselves.


Who Are You?

Who is the artist? What did they mean by this particular work? I know I’m going out on a limb treating graffiti as art, but I don’t know what else to call it. And some of it I find just as fascinating as something I’d see in a museum–maybe more so.

012013Who made this? Is Medusa a specific artist or is there a Medusa gang? Do members have to get stoned? Joking aside, what does the logo underneath the name mean? I see something like this and I want to know more. It stops me in my tracks.


The Failure of Inspiration.

I’m sure it’s happened to every person who does anything creative: inspiration hits, you can do no wrong, everything that you’re about to make is going to be worthy of a Nobel prize, and then, just as quickly as it came on, it dries up.

I think that’s what happened here.


I feel for the artist. Sometimes you spread your wings, leap from the perch, and fall flat on your face.

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