An interview with the forefather of New York City graffiti

A newsletter column introduced graffiti by tracing its roots in New York City during the 1960s and 1970s. High crime, drug use, economic decline, and the Vietnam War shaped the experiences of many young people. One writer learned wall writing, later known as graffiti, and created a tag combining a nickname with a street name. He painted it across buildings, billboards, and subway cars. Other young people in areas like Washington Heights and the Bronx used visible signatures to reclaim space. Media attention followed, including a 1971 New York Times profile of TAKI 183, which helped bring the practice into public view while many writers still protected their identities.

"My dad grew up in New York City in the 1960s and '70s. The crime rate was high, as was drug use. The economy was in shambles, and he watched as many of his friends and family disappeared to fight in the Vietnam War. It was during that time that he picked up something called wall writing, later to be known as graffiti."

"His tag was Junior 161, a simple moniker that combined his nickname with the street he lived on. And he wrote it all over the city: on building facades, billboards, and especially inside and outside of subway cars. Junior 161 was certainly not alone in tagging up the city. Many young people, particularly in Washington Heights and the Bronx, were left to fend for themselves, forgotten by society and haunted by bleak surroundings."

"Signing their names for all to see was their way of reclaiming space. And people started to notice. In 1971, the New York Times profiled TAKI 183, often credited as being the forefather of the artform in New York City. The headline reads "'Taki 183' Spawns Pen Pals." My dad was one of them."

"The profile brought the practice out of the shadows. Graffiti writers famously do not reveal their identities, mostly because what they were doing was a crime, but also because it added to the mystery and fun of it all. TAKI 183 did reveal his first name to the New York Times - Demetrios - but never his last name. Fifty-five years later, when I interviewed him about his past escapades, he still refused to give his last name."

Read at Gothamist