They hate color, people!

The long awaited update

A little while ago, I set up a little experiment. I created a space—just a modest, unassuming spot—where hand style enthusiasts could contribute to a community art piece. And wouldn’t you know it? The Buff couldn’t stand it.

When I returned, expecting to document the latest additions, all I found was a fresh coat of sadness. Gone. Erased. Another victim of their grey-washing campaign.

This is the routine, right? The second a wall gets a little too lively, the Buff Brigade rushes in to restore the natural order—which, apparently, is the aesthetic of a Soviet-era concrete bunker. They don’t ask. They don’t hesitate. Just erase, erase, erase.

Because to them, public space isn’t meant to be enjoyed. It’s meant to be controlled. Kept bland. Kept quiet. Kept safe from the horrors of… kids having fun.

But if there’s one thing graffiti writers understand, it’s that nothing lasts forever. We live between buff cycles—like kids scrambling to grab seashells before the tide comes in, knowing full well it’s just going to wash everything away.

So, I found another sad, forgotten electrical box. And once again, I smoothed out its rough edges and gave it a fresh, glossy finish. But this time, I didn’t just pick the design myself—I took a suggestion from the community.

I turned the box into a giant Hello, my name is… sticker. Simple. Recognizable. A friendly little nudge to any would-be contributors passing by.

Now, is this going to single-handedly overthrow the Buff and usher in a golden age of public art? Probably not. It’s just a tiny drop in the bucket.

But drops add up. Maybe this sparks something bigger—enough people treating public space like it actually belongs to them, and the tide won’t wash us away. It’ll rise with us.