paragraph# 2 just walked on by: Brent Staples
My first victim was a woman—white, well dressed, probably in her early twenties. I came upon her late one evening on a deserted street in Hyde Park, a relatively affluent neighborhood in an otherwise mean, impoverished section of Chicago. As I swung Onto the Avenue behind her, there seemed to be a discreet, uninflammatory distance between us. Not so. She cast back a worried glance. To her, the youngish black man—a broad six feet two inches with a beard and billowing hair, both hands shoved into the pockets of a bulky military jacket—seemed menacingly close. After a few more quick glimpses, she picked up her pace and was soon running in earnest. Within seconds she disappeared into a cross street.
My Best piece was huge-blues,oranges, yellows,detailed 3-D,and filled with detail. I found the spot on a dark street on Bingham, an industrial park traveled often during daytime,but safe enough to paint at night. As i started painting, I realized all the conditions were perfect, no wind and relaxingly warm. To me, the piece-a massive 8’x8′ word, letters twisted with arrows peircing in and out, bold colors blasting out- was perfect in every way. After a few pictures and last minute touch ups, I grabbed my bag and ran down the street. I was home in no time.