“Hey what are you doing over there!” Allen heard yelled at him from down the alleyway. Around the corner appeared two cops in full sprint, Allen dashed off with all of his paint supplies.
The year is 1969 and street art is just becoming popular but is still frowned upon by the general public, mostly cops. Allen Smith is an aspiring artist and is just starting to experiment with spray paints. Not many people are attempting to make meaningful street art. As an artist he is looked down upon because his canvases are the walls of New York's greatest buildings or the crumbling slums. Not only is he a street artist but he is also African-American in a discriminatory society.
“{insert racial slur},” said the cop, waving his police issued baton in a threatening manner. They chase Allen all the way through the alley and two blocks up the road. The sounds of jiggling spray paint cans echoed through the streets and alerted the nearby citizens. Allen heaved himself over a fence and darted around some trash cans to catch his breath. He waited until he couldn’t hear the policemen to start heading back home.
His bag dragged and his face clearly showed signs of fatigue. A hard day’s work with nothing to show thanks to those darned coppers. He thought he was in the clear when all of a sudden…