WASHINGTON (AP) — Before 8 a.m., U Street is largely empty as Aceba Broadus and his three-member team from the District of Columbia’s Department of Public Works (DPW) arrive to tackle graffiti at a well-known hotspot. They begin their day by tapping a hydrant to fill their truck’s 275-gallon tank, then set to work using a special chemical solution to coat the graffiti-laden walls. Following this, they blast the surfaces with high-pressure water. Although their work is efficient, Broadus is all too aware of the impermanence of their efforts.
“Come back on Friday and it will be all retagged again,” he remarked on a Tuesday. “It’s definitely a bit frustrating.” Indeed, keeping the city’s surfaces free from graffiti can feel like an endless battle, as new tags appear almost as quickly as the old ones are removed.
Across town, a different kind of graffiti project is underway. Artist Eric B. Ricks is busy applying a primer coat to the walls of Savoy Elementary School. Using a scissor lift, he prepares the surface for a city-sponsored mural adorned with colorful geometric patterns and vibrant birds. Ricks, who has been a graffiti artist for many years, views graffiti as a diverse form of expression. “Graffiti is different for every practitioner of the craft. It’s like a hydra, this multiheaded thing that’s many things to many people,” he said. “In its purest form, graffiti is like a flower blossoming out of filth and muck.”
The discussion surrounding graffiti often hinges on perspective: to some, it is an expressive art form, while for others, it’s merely vandalism. This duality has existed since the inception of graffiti. The city has three dedicated DPW teams working to combat graffiti, allocating a budget of $550,000 each year for removal efforts.
Different types of graffiti require various removal techniques, guided by the paint used and the wall material. For instance, cleaning limestone can be particularly challenging. In some cases, they simply paint over graffiti on metal security doors with gray paint, while other surfaces are treated with specialized chemicals and high-pressure water. For certain situations, they may even need to hire outside professionals equipped with sandblasting tools.
Add to this the political graffiti resulting from frequent protests in the capital. The recent large protest against the Israel-Gaza war showcased this, as demonstrators left slogans on structures, including a replica of the Liberty Bell. One notable incident involved a protester who spray-painted pro-Hamas messages on the statue of Christopher Columbus, leading to a rare graffiti-related arrest in connection with the protest.
Tagging, which generally involves stylized bubble-letter signatures, adorns countless buildings and stretches along Metro train lines. Broadus, a DPW veteran of 21 years, has become quite familiar with many of the local taggers. On three occasions, young graffiti artists have been sentenced to community service alongside him. He even recalls once asking a tagger to cover up their own work.
“When I ask them why they tag, they typically respond with something like, ‘We want to promote our name,’” Broadus said with a hint of resignation. Ricks echoes this sentiment: the motivation behind such actions has long puzzled many. He traces the modern graffiti movement back to the early 1980s in New York City. “Most people don’t understand why these kids are doing this,” he said. “Not everyone with a spray can shares the same motivations and goals.”
At 49, Ricks recalls being captivated by graffiti shortly after immigrating from Liberia to Hyattsville, Maryland, at the age of 13. He considers himself an unofficial historian of the art form, linking it to ancient cave paintings, the Depression-era “hobo code” used for communication among transients, and the painted symbols that guided enslaved individuals to freedom along the Underground Railroad.
Ricks stated, “The urge to scribble and leave a mark somewhere is deep in the psyche of the human animal.” Over the years, the local scene has also produced notable graffiti artists, such as Cool “Disco” Dan, who became an icon of D.C.’s pre-gentrification era due to his massive presence throughout the city.
While the DPW teams primarily respond to property owners’ requests, their work transformed significantly during the summer of 2020 amidst protests following the death of George Floyd. Broadus recalls his crews working long hours, often under police protection, due to the potential for hostility from nearby protesters.
True to D.C.’s multifaceted nature, several agencies handle graffiti removal. In addition to the DPW, the Department of General Services takes care of graffiti on municipal buildings, while the National Park Service manages incidents on park lands—including repair at Columbus Circle. Metro has its own crew dedicated to maintaining its train lines, and federal buildings are overseen by the General Services Administration and various federal agencies.
Local initiatives aimed at preserving D.C.’s graffiti culture have had mixed success. Corey Stowers, a longstanding artist, established the 14th Street Graffiti Museum in 2020, situated in an unused open-air courtyard. With aspirations of attracting tourists and school groups, the museum ultimately faced financial struggles and is now largely closed. “There was simply no funding. I couldn’t be there all the time, nor could I afford to pay someone to manage it,” Stowers lamented, calling for greater government support for the art discipline.
The Murals D.C. program remains the city’s primary way of supporting graffiti, having sponsored 165 murals and compensating artists like Ricks between $30 and $40 per square foot for their contributions. “With time, you can master the precision of a spray can like a surgeon with a scalpel,” Ricks noted. “This movement is by the people for the people. It defies categorization.”
