This is getting demolished. So much energy was put into this wall. This was just after Alex and Angelina had finished painting a water tank in the desert for five days straight. They still went all in. No one slept while it was being made, unless it was a quick nap in the car. Angelina and I were still fasting, and maybe that’s why I can remember this week with piercing clarity. I remember the train schedule, the sunrises, the smell of the burning black plastic bags when we tried to block out the city lights. I said my final goodbyes to my childhood dog at this wall. I met people that would change the course of my life here, and I watched those people meet others who would do the same (@co_labs, @monty_._, @josheverhorn). Alex and Angelina took a break once, to do a live painting across the street at an underground Cirque Du Soleil-esque show called @lucentdossier. Afterward a group of us gathered, drank wine from the bottle, and blessed the wall with everything we had. And when it was finished, Alex, Angelina and Stephen moved on to live paint at Coachella. No breaks. Just art.
All personal imprints aside, murals like this are important. In my eyes it’s one of the most powerful physical embodiments of our age, and when a beautiful, phenomenal piece gets destroyed, I feel as if they’re taking a bulldozer to the Parthenon. Who could be blind to the lasting worth of some of these works? It’s the nature of the street. I get it. But is it not more valuable than another fucking modern loft space?
Goodbye Nevermore. The irony of your title will not be lost.