In crappy bars and dank bathrooms, subway stops, and telephone booths, graffiti can be found almost anywhere, scrawled, sharpie layer upon sharpie layer. Names, dates, I love Sue, Sue’s a bitch, poems, truism, jokes, drawings. These uncensored statements are quick and direct, written alone, read alone and yet somehow open for interpretation. It’s not just what is written that I find interesting, but also the impulse to leave a distinct mark, to say something absurd, to offer truth or wit, or just to be flat out raunchy for all to see.