Often we tend only to notice what we choose to see. Driving cars or growing up in cities trains our eye to focus on the necessary, the stop lights, the other cars, the man with a shifty gaze and hunched shoulders walking behind in time to your footsteps down a darkening street. We tend not to observe the art of the everyday, such as the pattern of sidewalk cracks or unique arrangements of garbage sculpted inadvertently beside a dumpster. In a similar vein we are inclined to see graffiti, if we even notice it at all, as a mark of the juvenile thrill-seeker out to test the boundaries we as a society have so solidly constructed, rather than as a public art that creased the sterility of rectangular cities.

In many ways the Paint Louis festival, an annual gathering of graffiti writers who come to paint a legal mural on the Mississippi River floodwalls, contradicts the essence of graffiti art. The event is sponsored by the city of St. Louis and receives grant money under the umbrella of the not-for-profit St. Louis Gallery Association, and garners additional support from the Regional Arts Commission, the Missouri Art Council and Metropolis. Though graffiti began as and continues to be a primarily illegal 'tagging' of public property, it is rooted as a public art forum for creative communication.

One writer, who tagged 'b-spek' (short for bomb specialist), traveled from Milwaukee where he indulges in many forms of public art from graffiti to stenciling and hanging his own canvasses on public spaces in the city. "I like to put my work in an alley to maybe make people look at things differently or walk a different way to see them," he said, "kind of like a big question mark that's cool enough for people to look at and ask what it is." While graffiti initially appealed to many writers during their teenage lust for destruction, it has developed into an artistic passion for those seeking recognition outside the biting conventional passage to fame via pretentious galleries and museum status.

Over 300 writers from all over the country gathered in St. Louis to meet those who have gained notoriety for their art, to collaborate with old friends on a mural, or to represent their crews and depict their urban cultures. The recent rise of graffiti magazines and the availability of the internet has allowed graffiti to be more accessible than the visibility a cross-town train or a prime billboard location provides, so many writers come to see the face behind a tag they have admired. Usually, the illegal aspect of graffiti, 'bombing,' a speedy splash of a writers' name on public property, holds a greater appeal for most participants; but the opportunity to meet and 'piece,' to create a more time-intensive large scale mural, while showing off to one another amidst an appreciative corner of pop-culture is the primary draw to St. Louis.

Many writers recall their favorite tags for reasons of high visibility. Freeway signs, trains, and even ambulances are of the sweetest spots that ensure publicity. 'Brat', a writer out of Connecticut whose tag is a shortened form of 'bratica' ­ black rebels attack territory and incite criminal action, reminisced about his encounter with a clean train. "I painted a train in the yard one night and the next morning I saw passengers get on that train and I knew they saw it and it was the best feeling. It's self advertising and it's illegal; it's all about recognition."

An inflated ego seems to be a prerequisite for induction into the small but proud community of graffiti artists. Gathered in front of a concrete wall as early as six A.M., at first glance this is a bunch of people writing their names six feet wide with every canned color imaginable in a place that smells like horseshit by nine A.M. due to the intense midwetern heat that compels the sting of inflamed tempers and sweaty eyes. And while the location resembles a barnyard in the way only an industrial wasteland can, which of course is not at all, one slowly discovers a wide range of people drawn together through mutual respect for the creative combination of letterforms.

Respect is what has kept the event going since its inception in 1996. The current organizer, Elani, focuses on making the writers feel respected by offering necessities such as scaffolding, base paint, water, and a summertime essential: shade, which is new to the event this year. As she explained, part of being a graffiti writer is danger and living on the edge, so an event like Paint Louis can be disempowering to the lifestyle. "There's amazing art here," she explained, as a reason for her enthusiasm for Paint Louis, "but we're not supporting the lifestyle, I can't emphasize that enough."

The graffiti lifestyle was almost enough to end the event, for in 1998 there was extensive vandalism and garbage left in the area, including people deficating in "spots they weren't supposed to." Then in 1999, a seventeen year old St. Louis boy named Brian Murphy was accidentally killed while tagging a train several weeks before the event. Mayor Clarence Harmon promptly cancelled Paint Louis until a committee including Elani, members of the Regional Arts Commission and Pat Murphy, Brian's father, met with Harmon, and after much deliberation the event continued under 20-point condition list of guidelines drawn up by the committee.

Elani also explained her dedicated involvement as being one of the mainstays of Paint Louis. "There's a lot of egos, last year it was all these people saying 'I'm going to be the organizer, we've got to kick this person out because they're not doing shit and just talking trouble,' and then the weekend of the event, once we got it actually cleared, nobody was here. What I really realized last year was that in this community of graffiti and hip-hop, there's some people who talk so much and not so many people have a strong work ethic, so it's just kind of funny." Yet Elani's balance of security minus the ego keeps the levels of respect needed between the organizers and the writers for the event to run smoothly. She also credits her success to not being a writer, while bringing in "the female yin to balance the more male dominant yang."

A diversity of writers has been noticeably represented at Paint Louis, from the white suburban kid to those of African-American, Puerto Rican and Asian backgrounds, and people from all over the country from New York to Miami, San Francisco, Texas and Tennessee, to name a few. Even a fair number of women were painting, (about 10) though the testosterone barometer was pushing the mercury to its limits. Most male writers denied the macho aspects of graffiti, limiting it to a few thugs and gang members, while female artists adamantly recognized the prevalent machoism of the graffiti world. Men seemed to feel that the level of risk involved in graffiti deterred most women from the art.

'Sherm,' a female writer out of Los Angeles, responded to the gender imbalance with reluctant hope. "Everything is a male dominated situation, and you just accept that, but within that there's all us girls in here doing our own thing, but it's definetly a macho type ego-tripping busting skills and shit kind of thing." Another woman, 'r-two,' from Baltimore, admitted to the problem as an 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' situation, but remarked as well that many of the guys she encountered were pretty cool, and that "not everyone is a dick".

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your opinions, the Miss Paint Louis contest scheduled for Saturday evening was cancelled due to the lack of women willing to parade themselves on stage dressed only in underwear and body paint. The Saturday night entertainment at the Galaxy was sponsored by While You Were Sleeping, a graffiti magazine, in which many of the articles include juicy tidbits about 'picking up as many chicks as I could' or waiting for my roommates to bring home some ladies so if I'm lucky I can snatch their leftovers,' and featured an article about porn star Ron Jeremy. Despite the patriarchal overtones of the event, the pervasive atmosphere of Paint Louis was geared more towards people converging on a passion.

Writers' career backgrounds varied about as much as their cultural roots, though a dominant number credited their early enthusiasm for graffiti as a gateway into careers in advertising and graphic design. Also included in the medley were 'normal,' a sheet-metal cutter from Milwaukee, 'r-two,' a senior majoring in biochemistry at the University of Maryland, 'sear,' a clock repairman from Cincinatti, and 'mack,' an optician from Seattle. Others refused to comment on the nature of their jobs, or lack thereof. As 'sherm' revealed, she was "just trying to survive in this world, work the whole 40 hour a week job working for the man just so I can buy spray paint on the weekend and feed my habit. It's not the biggest deal but that's how I live, I look forward to it every weekend."

Another draw to St. Louis is the fact that many cities such as New York, Milwaukee, and Los Angeles have cracked down hard on graffiti, as police pass out felony charges like Halloween candy to anyone they catch. Almost every participant at Paint Louis has spent at least a night in jail for tagging, while others have had their houses searched or received up to six months prison time and nine-thousand dollar fines, and some writers chose not to comment on their criminal records. Yet many boast about their colorful pasts, though admitting to becoming more responsible, or just smarter, with age.

One writer, a WashU student from Manhattan who tags his initials, 'm.e.', attributes the decline of graffiti in its city of origin to Mayor Ed Koch replacing the old, painted trains in the late '80s and Mayor Rudolph Guliani, who enforced mandatory jail time and declared graffiti a quality of life crime during the early '90s. The 'quality of life' idea is based on the 'broken glass theory' of criminal psychology, for which a psychologist left a car on a city street and returned a few days later to find the vehicle unharmed. He then proceeded to break a window, and within 24 hours the car was stripped. This lead to the theory that if you control the petty crimes, then the larger crimes such as murder will become less prevalent. And while graffiti has declined in New York since the institution of the new law, murder has declined significantly as well.

Graffiti has also had a history as a gang related activity, which causes many cities to lash out in such a reactionary manner against the act. While one writer, who tags 'normal,' was introduced to graffiti through gangs, he decided to concentrate more on the artistic aspect when he decided gang life was not for him. And for others graffiti is the ultimate urban sport. As 'geb,' the 'green eyed bomber' explained, "There's a certain generation that gets into this kind of thing and I was in that generation, the hip-hop generation. It's so diverse, too; growing up I didn't fit in with any culture but graffiti is universal and I just love it."

"It's better than drugs, or some shit," said 'render,' another writer from Milwaukee. And while writing one's name four feet high on a prominent public structure does wonders for the self-esteem, and unexplainable magnetism towards the artistic possibilities of the alphabet is a main ingredient in the appeal of graffiti. 'Rex 2,' a writer and a graphic design student at the University of Tennessee said, "it's just about style. Anyone who's into typography knows that from the posters of the sixties to Illuminated Manuscripts to even hieroglyphics people have always been doing creative things with letters."

Though the definition of graffiti is anything but written on a wall, there are certain restriclive guidelines to letterform graffiti essential to 'playing the game.' And while some are of the opinion that graffiti is stale, or that it only changes every ten years or so, the more optimistic writers believe the sky's the limit. "The definition of graffiti has changed so much over the years, and the mere fact that it's supported (by the city) just because there is creativity shows that it's gone, because it almost contradicts graffiti in itself," said Elani. "But it has evolved, it's more dynamic, the three-dimensional work is more impressive as is the creativity, so it's its own entity and I think we're just on kind of a roller coaster ride with it. None of us can actually see where it's heading. I was thinking because of environmental reasons spray paint could even be banned in the next 50 years and graffiti could be done through just paint and brushes. Maybe we really are a part of something that we can look back on and say 'yeah;' maybe it's some kind of weird revolution and with revolutions they pass. It's an adolescent."

The adolescent mark of graffiti leaves the future of the art in balance. On the one hand, adolescence has no future, it is a transitional phase from which people pass into maturity and new-found focus. Yet adolescence is also a jumping off point, a spark that will torch boundaries in a constant burn for growth and refinement.