Cleveland's Secret Gallery: Part 3

Urban blight and graffiti; the term evokes the image.
Somehow, the graffiti in this place seems different. It feels like it belongs here.

This graffiti reminds me of weeds, or more specifically, dandelions. Considered intruders in an obsessive suburbanite's green patch of perfection. Lawnlords wage never ending battles to keep them at bay. Instead of dandelions, this city lot spawned graffiti, and like the weed, it spread, organically transforming the blight of an industrial wasteland to a visual feast.

An urban gallery with no curator.

There are no rules here. Images of one artist invade, or completely cover, the work of another. Sometimes the message or the picture will be visible for months, or it may only be seen for a few days. Never intended to be a legacy, this is ephemeral art, lasting only until the next painter claims the space.

"The"
In speech and writing, this is a word is so easily overlooked as to seem insignificant. Yet, it's inclusion can modify an ordinary noun to make it an object of prime importance. Here on the Free Wall, this three letter particle of speech is elevated from supporting cast to star.

Beginning at the gap where a door swung many years ago, the sprayed line moves off the wall and along the remains of the concrete slab which once was a floor, tracing a new path. A maze going no place.