Stephen ESPO Powers - ICY SIGNS -
200 cans of spraypaint, 100 gallons of latex, 81 conversations, 33 words, 12 hand painted signs and 9 walls are the stats (so far) on Love Letter Baltimore. The number of conversations doesn’t include all the sidebars, periphery comments, anecdotal discussions and inquisitive concerns I’ve engaged in almost everyday for the last two years. People love Baltimore—sure the TV show plays a part (pick one, theres a few)—and the auteur and the poet and the musicians and the sports teams make people care where they sprang from. But beyond the cultural contributions, people everywhere have a red-brick nostalgia for the city that belies its small stature.
For me, it was the hardest city we’ve painted in so far. We had to operate in the gulf between riches and despair, and in that space create work that actually works for the community. What made our job easier is that the community, on every wall, had ideas and demands for what the walls should accomplish. So Ricky in Westport was thinking “People should know this is home,” and Glenn on the East Side was thinking, “Break the disconnects and change the game,” and ICY SIGNS was the visual sound system to broadcast these signals.
The ICY Signs shop at 224 N. Paca is still there, waiting on more wall permissions and accepting commissions (email us at icybaltimore@gmail.com to see if your  Baltimore business qualifies). We look forward to continuing the visual communication of conversation soon (soon, soon).

Back at the home base in Brooklyn, we have this new screen print dedicated to the Stagger Home, my nightly dance move on the 2 train. It is a 24” square of violet riches and black despair, in a signed and numbered edition of 75. It is $200 plus shipping. Please email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice. Proceeds in part will pay off the ICY sign mechanics, because in love and art, labor costs the most and pays off the best.Thank youStephen
200 cans of spraypaint, 100 gallons of latex, 81 conversations, 33 words, 12 hand painted signs and 9 walls are the stats (so far) on Love Letter Baltimore. The number of conversations doesn’t include all the sidebars, periphery comments, anecdotal discussions and inquisitive concerns I’ve engaged in almost everyday for the last two years. People love Baltimore—sure the TV show plays a part (pick one, theres a few)—and the auteur and the poet and the musicians and the sports teams make people care where they sprang from. But beyond the cultural contributions, people everywhere have a red-brick nostalgia for the city that belies its small stature.
For me, it was the hardest city we’ve painted in so far. We had to operate in the gulf between riches and despair, and in that space create work that actually works for the community. What made our job easier is that the community, on every wall, had ideas and demands for what the walls should accomplish. So Ricky in Westport was thinking “People should know this is home,” and Glenn on the East Side was thinking, “Break the disconnects and change the game,” and ICY SIGNS was the visual sound system to broadcast these signals.
The ICY Signs shop at 224 N. Paca is still there, waiting on more wall permissions and accepting commissions (email us at icybaltimore@gmail.com to see if your  Baltimore business qualifies). We look forward to continuing the visual communication of conversation soon (soon, soon).

Back at the home base in Brooklyn, we have this new screen print dedicated to the Stagger Home, my nightly dance move on the 2 train. It is a 24” square of violet riches and black despair, in a signed and numbered edition of 75. It is $200 plus shipping. Please email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice. Proceeds in part will pay off the ICY sign mechanics, because in love and art, labor costs the most and pays off the best.Thank youStephen
200 cans of spraypaint, 100 gallons of latex, 81 conversations, 33 words, 12 hand painted signs and 9 walls are the stats (so far) on Love Letter Baltimore. The number of conversations doesn’t include all the sidebars, periphery comments, anecdotal discussions and inquisitive concerns I’ve engaged in almost everyday for the last two years. People love Baltimore—sure the TV show plays a part (pick one, theres a few)—and the auteur and the poet and the musicians and the sports teams make people care where they sprang from. But beyond the cultural contributions, people everywhere have a red-brick nostalgia for the city that belies its small stature.
For me, it was the hardest city we’ve painted in so far. We had to operate in the gulf between riches and despair, and in that space create work that actually works for the community. What made our job easier is that the community, on every wall, had ideas and demands for what the walls should accomplish. So Ricky in Westport was thinking “People should know this is home,” and Glenn on the East Side was thinking, “Break the disconnects and change the game,” and ICY SIGNS was the visual sound system to broadcast these signals.
The ICY Signs shop at 224 N. Paca is still there, waiting on more wall permissions and accepting commissions (email us at icybaltimore@gmail.com to see if your  Baltimore business qualifies). We look forward to continuing the visual communication of conversation soon (soon, soon).

Back at the home base in Brooklyn, we have this new screen print dedicated to the Stagger Home, my nightly dance move on the 2 train. It is a 24” square of violet riches and black despair, in a signed and numbered edition of 75. It is $200 plus shipping. Please email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice. Proceeds in part will pay off the ICY sign mechanics, because in love and art, labor costs the most and pays off the best.Thank youStephen
200 cans of spraypaint, 100 gallons of latex, 81 conversations, 33 words, 12 hand painted signs and 9 walls are the stats (so far) on Love Letter Baltimore. The number of conversations doesn’t include all the sidebars, periphery comments, anecdotal discussions and inquisitive concerns I’ve engaged in almost everyday for the last two years. People love Baltimore—sure the TV show plays a part (pick one, theres a few)—and the auteur and the poet and the musicians and the sports teams make people care where they sprang from. But beyond the cultural contributions, people everywhere have a red-brick nostalgia for the city that belies its small stature.
For me, it was the hardest city we’ve painted in so far. We had to operate in the gulf between riches and despair, and in that space create work that actually works for the community. What made our job easier is that the community, on every wall, had ideas and demands for what the walls should accomplish. So Ricky in Westport was thinking “People should know this is home,” and Glenn on the East Side was thinking, “Break the disconnects and change the game,” and ICY SIGNS was the visual sound system to broadcast these signals.
The ICY Signs shop at 224 N. Paca is still there, waiting on more wall permissions and accepting commissions (email us at icybaltimore@gmail.com to see if your  Baltimore business qualifies). We look forward to continuing the visual communication of conversation soon (soon, soon).

Back at the home base in Brooklyn, we have this new screen print dedicated to the Stagger Home, my nightly dance move on the 2 train. It is a 24” square of violet riches and black despair, in a signed and numbered edition of 75. It is $200 plus shipping. Please email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice. Proceeds in part will pay off the ICY sign mechanics, because in love and art, labor costs the most and pays off the best.Thank youStephen
200 cans of spraypaint, 100 gallons of latex, 81 conversations, 33 words, 12 hand painted signs and 9 walls are the stats (so far) on Love Letter Baltimore. The number of conversations doesn’t include all the sidebars, periphery comments, anecdotal discussions and inquisitive concerns I’ve engaged in almost everyday for the last two years. People love Baltimore—sure the TV show plays a part (pick one, theres a few)—and the auteur and the poet and the musicians and the sports teams make people care where they sprang from. But beyond the cultural contributions, people everywhere have a red-brick nostalgia for the city that belies its small stature.
For me, it was the hardest city we’ve painted in so far. We had to operate in the gulf between riches and despair, and in that space create work that actually works for the community. What made our job easier is that the community, on every wall, had ideas and demands for what the walls should accomplish. So Ricky in Westport was thinking “People should know this is home,” and Glenn on the East Side was thinking, “Break the disconnects and change the game,” and ICY SIGNS was the visual sound system to broadcast these signals.
The ICY Signs shop at 224 N. Paca is still there, waiting on more wall permissions and accepting commissions (email us at icybaltimore@gmail.com to see if your  Baltimore business qualifies). We look forward to continuing the visual communication of conversation soon (soon, soon).

Back at the home base in Brooklyn, we have this new screen print dedicated to the Stagger Home, my nightly dance move on the 2 train. It is a 24” square of violet riches and black despair, in a signed and numbered edition of 75. It is $200 plus shipping. Please email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice. Proceeds in part will pay off the ICY sign mechanics, because in love and art, labor costs the most and pays off the best.Thank youStephen
200 cans of spraypaint, 100 gallons of latex, 81 conversations, 33 words, 12 hand painted signs and 9 walls are the stats (so far) on Love Letter Baltimore. The number of conversations doesn’t include all the sidebars, periphery comments, anecdotal discussions and inquisitive concerns I’ve engaged in almost everyday for the last two years. People love Baltimore—sure the TV show plays a part (pick one, theres a few)—and the auteur and the poet and the musicians and the sports teams make people care where they sprang from. But beyond the cultural contributions, people everywhere have a red-brick nostalgia for the city that belies its small stature.
For me, it was the hardest city we’ve painted in so far. We had to operate in the gulf between riches and despair, and in that space create work that actually works for the community. What made our job easier is that the community, on every wall, had ideas and demands for what the walls should accomplish. So Ricky in Westport was thinking “People should know this is home,” and Glenn on the East Side was thinking, “Break the disconnects and change the game,” and ICY SIGNS was the visual sound system to broadcast these signals.
The ICY Signs shop at 224 N. Paca is still there, waiting on more wall permissions and accepting commissions (email us at icybaltimore@gmail.com to see if your  Baltimore business qualifies). We look forward to continuing the visual communication of conversation soon (soon, soon).

Back at the home base in Brooklyn, we have this new screen print dedicated to the Stagger Home, my nightly dance move on the 2 train. It is a 24” square of violet riches and black despair, in a signed and numbered edition of 75. It is $200 plus shipping. Please email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice. Proceeds in part will pay off the ICY sign mechanics, because in love and art, labor costs the most and pays off the best.Thank youStephen
200 cans of spraypaint, 100 gallons of latex, 81 conversations, 33 words, 12 hand painted signs and 9 walls are the stats (so far) on Love Letter Baltimore. The number of conversations doesn’t include all the sidebars, periphery comments, anecdotal discussions and inquisitive concerns I’ve engaged in almost everyday for the last two years. People love Baltimore—sure the TV show plays a part (pick one, theres a few)—and the auteur and the poet and the musicians and the sports teams make people care where they sprang from. But beyond the cultural contributions, people everywhere have a red-brick nostalgia for the city that belies its small stature.
For me, it was the hardest city we’ve painted in so far. We had to operate in the gulf between riches and despair, and in that space create work that actually works for the community. What made our job easier is that the community, on every wall, had ideas and demands for what the walls should accomplish. So Ricky in Westport was thinking “People should know this is home,” and Glenn on the East Side was thinking, “Break the disconnects and change the game,” and ICY SIGNS was the visual sound system to broadcast these signals.
The ICY Signs shop at 224 N. Paca is still there, waiting on more wall permissions and accepting commissions (email us at icybaltimore@gmail.com to see if your  Baltimore business qualifies). We look forward to continuing the visual communication of conversation soon (soon, soon).

Back at the home base in Brooklyn, we have this new screen print dedicated to the Stagger Home, my nightly dance move on the 2 train. It is a 24” square of violet riches and black despair, in a signed and numbered edition of 75. It is $200 plus shipping. Please email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice. Proceeds in part will pay off the ICY sign mechanics, because in love and art, labor costs the most and pays off the best.Thank youStephen
200 cans of spraypaint, 100 gallons of latex, 81 conversations, 33 words, 12 hand painted signs and 9 walls are the stats (so far) on Love Letter Baltimore. The number of conversations doesn’t include all the sidebars, periphery comments, anecdotal discussions and inquisitive concerns I’ve engaged in almost everyday for the last two years. People love Baltimore—sure the TV show plays a part (pick one, theres a few)—and the auteur and the poet and the musicians and the sports teams make people care where they sprang from. But beyond the cultural contributions, people everywhere have a red-brick nostalgia for the city that belies its small stature.
For me, it was the hardest city we’ve painted in so far. We had to operate in the gulf between riches and despair, and in that space create work that actually works for the community. What made our job easier is that the community, on every wall, had ideas and demands for what the walls should accomplish. So Ricky in Westport was thinking “People should know this is home,” and Glenn on the East Side was thinking, “Break the disconnects and change the game,” and ICY SIGNS was the visual sound system to broadcast these signals.
The ICY Signs shop at 224 N. Paca is still there, waiting on more wall permissions and accepting commissions (email us at icybaltimore@gmail.com to see if your  Baltimore business qualifies). We look forward to continuing the visual communication of conversation soon (soon, soon).

Back at the home base in Brooklyn, we have this new screen print dedicated to the Stagger Home, my nightly dance move on the 2 train. It is a 24” square of violet riches and black despair, in a signed and numbered edition of 75. It is $200 plus shipping. Please email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice. Proceeds in part will pay off the ICY sign mechanics, because in love and art, labor costs the most and pays off the best.Thank youStephen
200 cans of spraypaint, 100 gallons of latex, 81 conversations, 33 words, 12 hand painted signs and 9 walls are the stats (so far) on Love Letter Baltimore. The number of conversations doesn’t include all the sidebars, periphery comments, anecdotal discussions and inquisitive concerns I’ve engaged in almost everyday for the last two years. People love Baltimore—sure the TV show plays a part (pick one, theres a few)—and the auteur and the poet and the musicians and the sports teams make people care where they sprang from. But beyond the cultural contributions, people everywhere have a red-brick nostalgia for the city that belies its small stature.
For me, it was the hardest city we’ve painted in so far. We had to operate in the gulf between riches and despair, and in that space create work that actually works for the community. What made our job easier is that the community, on every wall, had ideas and demands for what the walls should accomplish. So Ricky in Westport was thinking “People should know this is home,” and Glenn on the East Side was thinking, “Break the disconnects and change the game,” and ICY SIGNS was the visual sound system to broadcast these signals.
The ICY Signs shop at 224 N. Paca is still there, waiting on more wall permissions and accepting commissions (email us at icybaltimore@gmail.com to see if your  Baltimore business qualifies). We look forward to continuing the visual communication of conversation soon (soon, soon).

Back at the home base in Brooklyn, we have this new screen print dedicated to the Stagger Home, my nightly dance move on the 2 train. It is a 24” square of violet riches and black despair, in a signed and numbered edition of 75. It is $200 plus shipping. Please email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice. Proceeds in part will pay off the ICY sign mechanics, because in love and art, labor costs the most and pays off the best.Thank youStephen
200 cans of spraypaint, 100 gallons of latex, 81 conversations, 33 words, 12 hand painted signs and 9 walls are the stats (so far) on Love Letter Baltimore. The number of conversations doesn’t include all the sidebars, periphery comments, anecdotal discussions and inquisitive concerns I’ve engaged in almost everyday for the last two years. People love Baltimore—sure the TV show plays a part (pick one, theres a few)—and the auteur and the poet and the musicians and the sports teams make people care where they sprang from. But beyond the cultural contributions, people everywhere have a red-brick nostalgia for the city that belies its small stature.
For me, it was the hardest city we’ve painted in so far. We had to operate in the gulf between riches and despair, and in that space create work that actually works for the community. What made our job easier is that the community, on every wall, had ideas and demands for what the walls should accomplish. So Ricky in Westport was thinking “People should know this is home,” and Glenn on the East Side was thinking, “Break the disconnects and change the game,” and ICY SIGNS was the visual sound system to broadcast these signals.
The ICY Signs shop at 224 N. Paca is still there, waiting on more wall permissions and accepting commissions (email us at icybaltimore@gmail.com to see if your  Baltimore business qualifies). We look forward to continuing the visual communication of conversation soon (soon, soon).

Back at the home base in Brooklyn, we have this new screen print dedicated to the Stagger Home, my nightly dance move on the 2 train. It is a 24” square of violet riches and black despair, in a signed and numbered edition of 75. It is $200 plus shipping. Please email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice. Proceeds in part will pay off the ICY sign mechanics, because in love and art, labor costs the most and pays off the best.Thank youStephen

200 cans of spraypaint, 100 gallons of latex, 81 conversations, 33 words, 12 hand painted signs and 9 walls are the stats (so far) on Love Letter Baltimore. The number of conversations doesn’t include all the sidebars, periphery comments, anecdotal discussions and inquisitive concerns I’ve engaged in almost everyday for the last two years. People love Baltimore—sure the TV show plays a part (pick one, theres a few)—and the auteur and the poet and the musicians and the sports teams make people care where they sprang from. But beyond the cultural contributions, people everywhere have a red-brick nostalgia for the city that belies its small stature.


For me, it was the hardest city we’ve painted in so far. We had to operate in the gulf between riches and despair, and in that space create work that actually works for the community. What made our job easier is that the community, on every wall, had ideas and demands for what the walls should accomplish. So Ricky in Westport was thinking “People should know this is home,” and Glenn on the East Side was thinking, “Break the disconnects and change the game,” and ICY SIGNS was the visual sound system to broadcast these signals.

The ICY Signs shop at 224 N. Paca is still there, waiting on more wall permissions and accepting commissions (email us at icybaltimore@gmail.com to see if your  Baltimore business qualifies). We look forward to continuing the visual communication of conversation soon (soon, soon).

Back at the home base in Brooklyn, we have this new screen print dedicated to the Stagger Home, my nightly dance move on the 2 train. It is a 24” square of violet riches and black despair, in a signed and numbered edition of 75. It is $200 plus shipping. Please email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice. Proceeds in part will pay off the ICY sign mechanics, because in love and art, labor costs the most and pays off the best.

Thank you
Stephen

I met Jerry Johnson on a cold, rainy day in Coney Island in March of 2003. I was early and soaked when his car pulled up to the corner of Surf Ave and Jones Walk. I jumped into a car packed with the debris that comes with a sign business office that doubles as transportation, and I started pitching fast balls, none of which bothered the strike zone. I told Jerry that we were painting new signs for the businesses of Coney Island and that he was the top artist on our list. I assured him that Creative Time, America’s premier Public Arts Organization (our collaborator/benefactor/instigator) insisted he be given carte blanche over Coney, and any number of losers would be at his beck and call to haul paint and get sandwiches. I don’t remember Jerry saying much, but his white knuckle grip on the wheel and his thousand-yard stare out the windshield spoke loud and clear. I rolled up the welcome mat myself, and as I stepped out of the car, left a copy of my book, a pro-graffiti memoir that I’m sure sailed out the window at the next corner. The next day, Jerry wrote one of the angriest letters I ever read, criticizing me and Creative Time for working with me. My co-curator on the project, Peter Eeley, wrote back and told him off in a way that mixed Yale and jail. I was grateful that he, and by extension the art world, stood up for me, but I knew it was gonna sting like a beanball to the spine of old Jerry Johnson.


Jerry, since 1977, was the owner and chief walldog of Orange Outdoor and was justly famous for a series of billboards he painted at Atlantic and Nevins in Brooklyn, a spaldeen toss from ICY Signs on Fourth Avenue. They were technically excellent and hilarious—truly art with a subversive edge that still cuts, decades after they were painted. I remember seeing one of them and being knocked flat. It was audacious and accomplished in a way I couldnt comprehend, but the feeling it inspired became a puzzle piece and I looked for the other pieces that fit with it, in the hope that one day I would understand. Justin Green had a piece of Jerry’s story that didn’t fit, but I kept it just the same. Matt Wright got a call to help him on a job, and after a long day of working together, Matt made an attempt to compliment him on his billboards. Jerry froze and shut down the conversation like a well-oiled riot gate. Then our oldest newest co-worker, Eric Davis, our Brooklyn Sign Expert, filled in some great details. He remembered Jerry as a long haired figurative painter at Pratt in the early 70s, and remembered him even more respectfully as a well-regarded student at the Art Students League. Fast forward to 2007 (or so) Eric saw Jerry on the street, told him that he remembered him from Pratt. Jerry denied knowing him and withdrew.  Jerry was trained to be a great painter in the classic tradition and it being the seventies, his talent wouldn’t get him a show in Soho. So well trained, and possessing great talent and wit, he made a career shoehorning his abilities into advertising, an obviously painful fit. The billboards he painted for himself were a funny antidote to the advertising that was his day job, and they served the highest purpose—to be beyond everything just for the sake of being beyond. He had at least one client that met him halfway. Michael Pintchuk walked into the shop last night and, unprompted, mentioned Jerry Johnson. I turned off the stereo and patted his pockets for any missing puzzle pieces. Jerry painted several ads for Pintchuk Hardware at the corner of Flatbush and Bergen. One reimagined “American Gothic” with the farmer holding a paintbrush. Ok, not that funny, but beautifully done just the same. “What’s up with Jerry?” I asked. Michael shook his head, “No idea. Haven’t spoken to him in years, but hes a real artistic wit.”  No doubt.

So Jerry Johnson, wherever you are, you are respected and remembered. I hope this finds you well and at peace.

The irony is not lost on me that at this moment there are people that want to put me in shows or present me with accolades or bestow upon me kinship to their endeavors. Some bear gifts and some gift bears.  I want to thank you all, and I want you all to know I think you’re awesome and you should keep doing what you’re doing without me. I’ve got to realize my potential and that means working just past all limits of imagination and time. Every opportunity you are offering, even if it’s the good one, is just a detour to delay.

But hey, while you’re here, have you seen my prints? Check this baby out. Its a 12”x12” print on 334 gram Coventry rag paper in a signed and numbered edition of 100. It is $150 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing address and we’ll send you a paypal invoice.

I’m headed back to Baltimore on train 185, the 8:10 that—when it arrives at 10:43, if it arrives at 10:43—will allow me 17 minutes to make my way across town to my 11:00 meeting. It’s a good thing everywhere in Baltimore is close. The plan is to be in a few different meetings in a few different rooms, talking to crowds of a few different sizes and a few different backgrounds. I’ll ask one question, “What do you love about Baltimore?” and I’ll get more than a few different answers. It’s in the asking and the answering that I learn what’s important to people, and there is something important to every person.When we talk about what we love, it’s a way of measuring distance between each other. What we share love for (The Ravens!) shows how close we are, and what we differ on (Westport! Waverly!) shows how far apart we are. Of course this would be endless and exhausting in politics, but in art, it’s like sharing a fish sandwich. So we’ll chew the fat and we’ll choose the words that charm the city. That reminds me, why do they call it Charm City? I’ll ask.Back at 72 Fourth Avenue we are making love and dealing with shit, like everybody else. Nine years ago, I doodled in pen on a wall “EVERYTHING IS SHIT Except you Love” and it made me laugh and cringe, which is the sign of a good sign. So I made a painting of it. The painting sold and and I was asked for another, so I painted another. Again and again I was asked and again and again I painted. It bears repeating, and it’s built like a record. It is my love song, my “Naive Melody”—I paint it like David sings it, in half despair and all devotion. And like the song, it’s a hit.  Hit songs get made into singles, hit paintings get made into prints: Mona Lisa, Starry Night, that Patrick Nagel painting of the white girl, and now “Everything Is Shit” prints are available to decorate your home or (in Patrick’s case) your hair salon. The first edition of the print sold out, people asked us to make another, and we made another. Again and again we were asked and again and again we printed. We invest love and effort and we give a shit about every print we make. We’ve created seven unique editions to date, and all in all there are 600 or so “Everything” prints in the world. If it was a record we would be going wood as opposed to gold, but as a print it is building an audience that loves and gives a shit about what I do, so it’s solid gold just the same. So all that said, here is our latest edition, in two different colorways. The Purple edition is a 24” x 24” print in a signed and numbered edition of 50, printed on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. it is $250 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing location and we’ll send you a Paypal invoice. The orange 12” x 12” edition will be released next week. If the work resonates with you and the ones you love, maybe you’ll get it. If you don’t want to spend the money, you have my blessing to print it out and pin it to your wall. If you’re looking for something to buy and flip, don’t buy my art, buy gold. Love you, no shit, Stephen I’m headed back to Baltimore on train 185, the 8:10 that—when it arrives at 10:43, if it arrives at 10:43—will allow me 17 minutes to make my way across town to my 11:00 meeting. It’s a good thing everywhere in Baltimore is close. The plan is to be in a few different meetings in a few different rooms, talking to crowds of a few different sizes and a few different backgrounds. I’ll ask one question, “What do you love about Baltimore?” and I’ll get more than a few different answers. It’s in the asking and the answering that I learn what’s important to people, and there is something important to every person.When we talk about what we love, it’s a way of measuring distance between each other. What we share love for (The Ravens!) shows how close we are, and what we differ on (Westport! Waverly!) shows how far apart we are. Of course this would be endless and exhausting in politics, but in art, it’s like sharing a fish sandwich. So we’ll chew the fat and we’ll choose the words that charm the city. That reminds me, why do they call it Charm City? I’ll ask.Back at 72 Fourth Avenue we are making love and dealing with shit, like everybody else. Nine years ago, I doodled in pen on a wall “EVERYTHING IS SHIT Except you Love” and it made me laugh and cringe, which is the sign of a good sign. So I made a painting of it. The painting sold and and I was asked for another, so I painted another. Again and again I was asked and again and again I painted. It bears repeating, and it’s built like a record. It is my love song, my “Naive Melody”—I paint it like David sings it, in half despair and all devotion. And like the song, it’s a hit.  Hit songs get made into singles, hit paintings get made into prints: Mona Lisa, Starry Night, that Patrick Nagel painting of the white girl, and now “Everything Is Shit” prints are available to decorate your home or (in Patrick’s case) your hair salon. The first edition of the print sold out, people asked us to make another, and we made another. Again and again we were asked and again and again we printed. We invest love and effort and we give a shit about every print we make. We’ve created seven unique editions to date, and all in all there are 600 or so “Everything” prints in the world. If it was a record we would be going wood as opposed to gold, but as a print it is building an audience that loves and gives a shit about what I do, so it’s solid gold just the same. So all that said, here is our latest edition, in two different colorways. The Purple edition is a 24” x 24” print in a signed and numbered edition of 50, printed on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. it is $250 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing location and we’ll send you a Paypal invoice. The orange 12” x 12” edition will be released next week. If the work resonates with you and the ones you love, maybe you’ll get it. If you don’t want to spend the money, you have my blessing to print it out and pin it to your wall. If you’re looking for something to buy and flip, don’t buy my art, buy gold. Love you, no shit, Stephen I’m headed back to Baltimore on train 185, the 8:10 that—when it arrives at 10:43, if it arrives at 10:43—will allow me 17 minutes to make my way across town to my 11:00 meeting. It’s a good thing everywhere in Baltimore is close. The plan is to be in a few different meetings in a few different rooms, talking to crowds of a few different sizes and a few different backgrounds. I’ll ask one question, “What do you love about Baltimore?” and I’ll get more than a few different answers. It’s in the asking and the answering that I learn what’s important to people, and there is something important to every person.When we talk about what we love, it’s a way of measuring distance between each other. What we share love for (The Ravens!) shows how close we are, and what we differ on (Westport! Waverly!) shows how far apart we are. Of course this would be endless and exhausting in politics, but in art, it’s like sharing a fish sandwich. So we’ll chew the fat and we’ll choose the words that charm the city. That reminds me, why do they call it Charm City? I’ll ask.Back at 72 Fourth Avenue we are making love and dealing with shit, like everybody else. Nine years ago, I doodled in pen on a wall “EVERYTHING IS SHIT Except you Love” and it made me laugh and cringe, which is the sign of a good sign. So I made a painting of it. The painting sold and and I was asked for another, so I painted another. Again and again I was asked and again and again I painted. It bears repeating, and it’s built like a record. It is my love song, my “Naive Melody”—I paint it like David sings it, in half despair and all devotion. And like the song, it’s a hit.  Hit songs get made into singles, hit paintings get made into prints: Mona Lisa, Starry Night, that Patrick Nagel painting of the white girl, and now “Everything Is Shit” prints are available to decorate your home or (in Patrick’s case) your hair salon. The first edition of the print sold out, people asked us to make another, and we made another. Again and again we were asked and again and again we printed. We invest love and effort and we give a shit about every print we make. We’ve created seven unique editions to date, and all in all there are 600 or so “Everything” prints in the world. If it was a record we would be going wood as opposed to gold, but as a print it is building an audience that loves and gives a shit about what I do, so it’s solid gold just the same. So all that said, here is our latest edition, in two different colorways. The Purple edition is a 24” x 24” print in a signed and numbered edition of 50, printed on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. it is $250 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing location and we’ll send you a Paypal invoice. The orange 12” x 12” edition will be released next week. If the work resonates with you and the ones you love, maybe you’ll get it. If you don’t want to spend the money, you have my blessing to print it out and pin it to your wall. If you’re looking for something to buy and flip, don’t buy my art, buy gold. Love you, no shit, Stephen I’m headed back to Baltimore on train 185, the 8:10 that—when it arrives at 10:43, if it arrives at 10:43—will allow me 17 minutes to make my way across town to my 11:00 meeting. It’s a good thing everywhere in Baltimore is close. The plan is to be in a few different meetings in a few different rooms, talking to crowds of a few different sizes and a few different backgrounds. I’ll ask one question, “What do you love about Baltimore?” and I’ll get more than a few different answers. It’s in the asking and the answering that I learn what’s important to people, and there is something important to every person.When we talk about what we love, it’s a way of measuring distance between each other. What we share love for (The Ravens!) shows how close we are, and what we differ on (Westport! Waverly!) shows how far apart we are. Of course this would be endless and exhausting in politics, but in art, it’s like sharing a fish sandwich. So we’ll chew the fat and we’ll choose the words that charm the city. That reminds me, why do they call it Charm City? I’ll ask.Back at 72 Fourth Avenue we are making love and dealing with shit, like everybody else. Nine years ago, I doodled in pen on a wall “EVERYTHING IS SHIT Except you Love” and it made me laugh and cringe, which is the sign of a good sign. So I made a painting of it. The painting sold and and I was asked for another, so I painted another. Again and again I was asked and again and again I painted. It bears repeating, and it’s built like a record. It is my love song, my “Naive Melody”—I paint it like David sings it, in half despair and all devotion. And like the song, it’s a hit.  Hit songs get made into singles, hit paintings get made into prints: Mona Lisa, Starry Night, that Patrick Nagel painting of the white girl, and now “Everything Is Shit” prints are available to decorate your home or (in Patrick’s case) your hair salon. The first edition of the print sold out, people asked us to make another, and we made another. Again and again we were asked and again and again we printed. We invest love and effort and we give a shit about every print we make. We’ve created seven unique editions to date, and all in all there are 600 or so “Everything” prints in the world. If it was a record we would be going wood as opposed to gold, but as a print it is building an audience that loves and gives a shit about what I do, so it’s solid gold just the same. So all that said, here is our latest edition, in two different colorways. The Purple edition is a 24” x 24” print in a signed and numbered edition of 50, printed on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. it is $250 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing location and we’ll send you a Paypal invoice. The orange 12” x 12” edition will be released next week. If the work resonates with you and the ones you love, maybe you’ll get it. If you don’t want to spend the money, you have my blessing to print it out and pin it to your wall. If you’re looking for something to buy and flip, don’t buy my art, buy gold. Love you, no shit, Stephen I’m headed back to Baltimore on train 185, the 8:10 that—when it arrives at 10:43, if it arrives at 10:43—will allow me 17 minutes to make my way across town to my 11:00 meeting. It’s a good thing everywhere in Baltimore is close. The plan is to be in a few different meetings in a few different rooms, talking to crowds of a few different sizes and a few different backgrounds. I’ll ask one question, “What do you love about Baltimore?” and I’ll get more than a few different answers. It’s in the asking and the answering that I learn what’s important to people, and there is something important to every person.When we talk about what we love, it’s a way of measuring distance between each other. What we share love for (The Ravens!) shows how close we are, and what we differ on (Westport! Waverly!) shows how far apart we are. Of course this would be endless and exhausting in politics, but in art, it’s like sharing a fish sandwich. So we’ll chew the fat and we’ll choose the words that charm the city. That reminds me, why do they call it Charm City? I’ll ask.Back at 72 Fourth Avenue we are making love and dealing with shit, like everybody else. Nine years ago, I doodled in pen on a wall “EVERYTHING IS SHIT Except you Love” and it made me laugh and cringe, which is the sign of a good sign. So I made a painting of it. The painting sold and and I was asked for another, so I painted another. Again and again I was asked and again and again I painted. It bears repeating, and it’s built like a record. It is my love song, my “Naive Melody”—I paint it like David sings it, in half despair and all devotion. And like the song, it’s a hit.  Hit songs get made into singles, hit paintings get made into prints: Mona Lisa, Starry Night, that Patrick Nagel painting of the white girl, and now “Everything Is Shit” prints are available to decorate your home or (in Patrick’s case) your hair salon. The first edition of the print sold out, people asked us to make another, and we made another. Again and again we were asked and again and again we printed. We invest love and effort and we give a shit about every print we make. We’ve created seven unique editions to date, and all in all there are 600 or so “Everything” prints in the world. If it was a record we would be going wood as opposed to gold, but as a print it is building an audience that loves and gives a shit about what I do, so it’s solid gold just the same. So all that said, here is our latest edition, in two different colorways. The Purple edition is a 24” x 24” print in a signed and numbered edition of 50, printed on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. it is $250 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing location and we’ll send you a Paypal invoice. The orange 12” x 12” edition will be released next week. If the work resonates with you and the ones you love, maybe you’ll get it. If you don’t want to spend the money, you have my blessing to print it out and pin it to your wall. If you’re looking for something to buy and flip, don’t buy my art, buy gold. Love you, no shit, Stephen I’m headed back to Baltimore on train 185, the 8:10 that—when it arrives at 10:43, if it arrives at 10:43—will allow me 17 minutes to make my way across town to my 11:00 meeting. It’s a good thing everywhere in Baltimore is close. The plan is to be in a few different meetings in a few different rooms, talking to crowds of a few different sizes and a few different backgrounds. I’ll ask one question, “What do you love about Baltimore?” and I’ll get more than a few different answers. It’s in the asking and the answering that I learn what’s important to people, and there is something important to every person.When we talk about what we love, it’s a way of measuring distance between each other. What we share love for (The Ravens!) shows how close we are, and what we differ on (Westport! Waverly!) shows how far apart we are. Of course this would be endless and exhausting in politics, but in art, it’s like sharing a fish sandwich. So we’ll chew the fat and we’ll choose the words that charm the city. That reminds me, why do they call it Charm City? I’ll ask.Back at 72 Fourth Avenue we are making love and dealing with shit, like everybody else. Nine years ago, I doodled in pen on a wall “EVERYTHING IS SHIT Except you Love” and it made me laugh and cringe, which is the sign of a good sign. So I made a painting of it. The painting sold and and I was asked for another, so I painted another. Again and again I was asked and again and again I painted. It bears repeating, and it’s built like a record. It is my love song, my “Naive Melody”—I paint it like David sings it, in half despair and all devotion. And like the song, it’s a hit.  Hit songs get made into singles, hit paintings get made into prints: Mona Lisa, Starry Night, that Patrick Nagel painting of the white girl, and now “Everything Is Shit” prints are available to decorate your home or (in Patrick’s case) your hair salon. The first edition of the print sold out, people asked us to make another, and we made another. Again and again we were asked and again and again we printed. We invest love and effort and we give a shit about every print we make. We’ve created seven unique editions to date, and all in all there are 600 or so “Everything” prints in the world. If it was a record we would be going wood as opposed to gold, but as a print it is building an audience that loves and gives a shit about what I do, so it’s solid gold just the same. So all that said, here is our latest edition, in two different colorways. The Purple edition is a 24” x 24” print in a signed and numbered edition of 50, printed on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. it is $250 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing location and we’ll send you a Paypal invoice. The orange 12” x 12” edition will be released next week. If the work resonates with you and the ones you love, maybe you’ll get it. If you don’t want to spend the money, you have my blessing to print it out and pin it to your wall. If you’re looking for something to buy and flip, don’t buy my art, buy gold. Love you, no shit, Stephen I’m headed back to Baltimore on train 185, the 8:10 that—when it arrives at 10:43, if it arrives at 10:43—will allow me 17 minutes to make my way across town to my 11:00 meeting. It’s a good thing everywhere in Baltimore is close. The plan is to be in a few different meetings in a few different rooms, talking to crowds of a few different sizes and a few different backgrounds. I’ll ask one question, “What do you love about Baltimore?” and I’ll get more than a few different answers. It’s in the asking and the answering that I learn what’s important to people, and there is something important to every person.When we talk about what we love, it’s a way of measuring distance between each other. What we share love for (The Ravens!) shows how close we are, and what we differ on (Westport! Waverly!) shows how far apart we are. Of course this would be endless and exhausting in politics, but in art, it’s like sharing a fish sandwich. So we’ll chew the fat and we’ll choose the words that charm the city. That reminds me, why do they call it Charm City? I’ll ask.Back at 72 Fourth Avenue we are making love and dealing with shit, like everybody else. Nine years ago, I doodled in pen on a wall “EVERYTHING IS SHIT Except you Love” and it made me laugh and cringe, which is the sign of a good sign. So I made a painting of it. The painting sold and and I was asked for another, so I painted another. Again and again I was asked and again and again I painted. It bears repeating, and it’s built like a record. It is my love song, my “Naive Melody”—I paint it like David sings it, in half despair and all devotion. And like the song, it’s a hit.  Hit songs get made into singles, hit paintings get made into prints: Mona Lisa, Starry Night, that Patrick Nagel painting of the white girl, and now “Everything Is Shit” prints are available to decorate your home or (in Patrick’s case) your hair salon. The first edition of the print sold out, people asked us to make another, and we made another. Again and again we were asked and again and again we printed. We invest love and effort and we give a shit about every print we make. We’ve created seven unique editions to date, and all in all there are 600 or so “Everything” prints in the world. If it was a record we would be going wood as opposed to gold, but as a print it is building an audience that loves and gives a shit about what I do, so it’s solid gold just the same. So all that said, here is our latest edition, in two different colorways. The Purple edition is a 24” x 24” print in a signed and numbered edition of 50, printed on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. it is $250 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing location and we’ll send you a Paypal invoice. The orange 12” x 12” edition will be released next week. If the work resonates with you and the ones you love, maybe you’ll get it. If you don’t want to spend the money, you have my blessing to print it out and pin it to your wall. If you’re looking for something to buy and flip, don’t buy my art, buy gold. Love you, no shit, Stephen I’m headed back to Baltimore on train 185, the 8:10 that—when it arrives at 10:43, if it arrives at 10:43—will allow me 17 minutes to make my way across town to my 11:00 meeting. It’s a good thing everywhere in Baltimore is close. The plan is to be in a few different meetings in a few different rooms, talking to crowds of a few different sizes and a few different backgrounds. I’ll ask one question, “What do you love about Baltimore?” and I’ll get more than a few different answers. It’s in the asking and the answering that I learn what’s important to people, and there is something important to every person.When we talk about what we love, it’s a way of measuring distance between each other. What we share love for (The Ravens!) shows how close we are, and what we differ on (Westport! Waverly!) shows how far apart we are. Of course this would be endless and exhausting in politics, but in art, it’s like sharing a fish sandwich. So we’ll chew the fat and we’ll choose the words that charm the city. That reminds me, why do they call it Charm City? I’ll ask.Back at 72 Fourth Avenue we are making love and dealing with shit, like everybody else. Nine years ago, I doodled in pen on a wall “EVERYTHING IS SHIT Except you Love” and it made me laugh and cringe, which is the sign of a good sign. So I made a painting of it. The painting sold and and I was asked for another, so I painted another. Again and again I was asked and again and again I painted. It bears repeating, and it’s built like a record. It is my love song, my “Naive Melody”—I paint it like David sings it, in half despair and all devotion. And like the song, it’s a hit.  Hit songs get made into singles, hit paintings get made into prints: Mona Lisa, Starry Night, that Patrick Nagel painting of the white girl, and now “Everything Is Shit” prints are available to decorate your home or (in Patrick’s case) your hair salon. The first edition of the print sold out, people asked us to make another, and we made another. Again and again we were asked and again and again we printed. We invest love and effort and we give a shit about every print we make. We’ve created seven unique editions to date, and all in all there are 600 or so “Everything” prints in the world. If it was a record we would be going wood as opposed to gold, but as a print it is building an audience that loves and gives a shit about what I do, so it’s solid gold just the same. So all that said, here is our latest edition, in two different colorways. The Purple edition is a 24” x 24” print in a signed and numbered edition of 50, printed on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. it is $250 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing location and we’ll send you a Paypal invoice. The orange 12” x 12” edition will be released next week. If the work resonates with you and the ones you love, maybe you’ll get it. If you don’t want to spend the money, you have my blessing to print it out and pin it to your wall. If you’re looking for something to buy and flip, don’t buy my art, buy gold. Love you, no shit, Stephen

I’m headed back to Baltimore on train 185, the 8:10 that—when it arrives at 10:43, if it arrives at 10:43—will allow me 17 minutes to make my way across town to my 11:00 meeting. It’s a good thing everywhere in Baltimore is close. The plan is to be in a few different meetings in a few different rooms, talking to crowds of a few different sizes and a few different backgrounds. I’ll ask one question, “What do you love about Baltimore?” and I’ll get more than a few different answers. It’s in the asking and the answering that I learn what’s important to people, and there is something important to every person.

When we talk about what we love, it’s a way of measuring distance between each other. What we share love for (The Ravens!) shows how close we are, and what we differ on (Westport! Waverly!) shows how far apart we are. Of course this would be endless and exhausting in politics, but in art, it’s like sharing a fish sandwich. So we’ll chew the fat and we’ll choose the words that charm the city. That reminds me, why do they call it Charm City? I’ll ask.

Back at 72 Fourth Avenue we are making love and dealing with shit, like everybody else. Nine years ago, I doodled in pen on a wall “EVERYTHING IS SHIT Except you Love” and it made me laugh and cringe, which is the sign of a good sign. So I made a painting of it. The painting sold and and I was asked for another, so I painted another. Again and again I was asked and again and again I painted. It bears repeating, and it’s built like a record. It is my love song, my “Naive Melody”—I paint it like David sings it, in half despair and all devotion. And like the song, it’s a hit.

Hit songs get made into singles, hit paintings get made into prints: Mona Lisa, Starry Night, that Patrick Nagel painting of the white girl, and now “Everything Is Shit” prints are available to decorate your home or (in Patrick’s case) your hair salon. The first edition of the print sold out, people asked us to make another, and we made another. Again and again we were asked and again and again we printed. We invest love and effort and we give a shit about every print we make. We’ve created seven unique editions to date, and all in all there are 600 or so “Everything” prints in the world. If it was a record we would be going wood as opposed to gold, but as a print it is building an audience that loves and gives a shit about what I do, so it’s solid gold just the same.

So all that said, here is our latest edition, in two different colorways. The Purple edition is a 24” x 24” print in a signed and numbered edition of 50, printed on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. it is $250 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your mailing location and we’ll send you a Paypal invoice. The orange 12” x 12” edition will be released next week. If the work resonates with you and the ones you love, maybe you’ll get it. If you don’t want to spend the money, you have my blessing to print it out and pin it to your wall. If you’re looking for something to buy and flip, don’t buy my art, buy gold.

Love you, no shit,
Stephen

Congratulations ICY SIGNS on its 500th day in business. Beyond staying in business, I’m selling out, no not ideals, but ideas! Everything pictured here are artist proofs, and we only have a few of each of them. Go to the shop at www.firstandfifteenth.net and order one, I’ll add any dedications and doodles you want, and if we have an ICY SIGNS shirt in your size we’ll throw that in too, just note your size at checkout. If you dont see what you are looking for email espoprints@gmail.com and we will do our best. Like the bag blowing down 4th ave says THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU Congratulations ICY SIGNS on its 500th day in business. Beyond staying in business, I’m selling out, no not ideals, but ideas! Everything pictured here are artist proofs, and we only have a few of each of them. Go to the shop at www.firstandfifteenth.net and order one, I’ll add any dedications and doodles you want, and if we have an ICY SIGNS shirt in your size we’ll throw that in too, just note your size at checkout. If you dont see what you are looking for email espoprints@gmail.com and we will do our best. Like the bag blowing down 4th ave says THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU

Congratulations ICY SIGNS on its 500th day in business. Beyond staying in business, I’m selling out, no not ideals, but ideas! Everything pictured here are artist proofs, and we only have a few of each of them. Go to the shop at www.firstandfifteenth.net and order one, I’ll add any dedications and doodles you want, and if we have an ICY SIGNS shirt in your size we’ll throw that in too, just note your size at checkout. If you dont see what you are looking for email espoprints@gmail.com and we will do our best. Like the bag blowing down 4th ave says THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU

4th Ave Loosie Sales
Matt Wright for ICY Signs
72 4th Ave in Brooklyn, open daily-ish.
Photos Matthew Kuborn 4th Ave Loosie Sales
Matt Wright for ICY Signs
72 4th Ave in Brooklyn, open daily-ish.
Photos Matthew Kuborn 4th Ave Loosie Sales
Matt Wright for ICY Signs
72 4th Ave in Brooklyn, open daily-ish.
Photos Matthew Kuborn 4th Ave Loosie Sales
Matt Wright for ICY Signs
72 4th Ave in Brooklyn, open daily-ish.
Photos Matthew Kuborn 4th Ave Loosie Sales
Matt Wright for ICY Signs
72 4th Ave in Brooklyn, open daily-ish.
Photos Matthew Kuborn 4th Ave Loosie Sales
Matt Wright for ICY Signs
72 4th Ave in Brooklyn, open daily-ish.
Photos Matthew Kuborn 4th Ave Loosie Sales
Matt Wright for ICY Signs
72 4th Ave in Brooklyn, open daily-ish.
Photos Matthew Kuborn 4th Ave Loosie Sales
Matt Wright for ICY Signs
72 4th Ave in Brooklyn, open daily-ish.
Photos Matthew Kuborn 4th Ave Loosie Sales
Matt Wright for ICY Signs
72 4th Ave in Brooklyn, open daily-ish.
Photos Matthew Kuborn 4th Ave Loosie Sales
Matt Wright for ICY Signs
72 4th Ave in Brooklyn, open daily-ish.
Photos Matthew Kuborn

4th Ave Loosie Sales

Matt Wright for ICY Signs

72 4th Ave in Brooklyn, open daily-ish.

Photos Matthew Kuborn

I’m doodling on prints as I’m signing prints, so throw me a line if you want one, espoprints@gmail.com and mention your shirt size and I’ll also send an ESPO shirt from the dawn of the century with your order. Float on!

Nice weather, huh? The door is open at the shop and a 70 degree breeze strolls in from time to time. People on 4th Ave are on the verge of smiling, instead of riding the edge of rage like they do on hot, hazy and humid days. We’re productive in this weather, making paintings and signs and constructing jokes, like: I’m thinking of quitting being an artist, it’s too sketchy.Anyway, as sweet as the air is on this noisy stretch of 4th avenue, I am reopening Studio Gangster, my original creative outlet on Broadway in Tribeca. I’ll be splitting my time between ICY SIGNS (72 4th Ave in Brooklyn) and Studio Gangster (Undisclosed location on Broadway), and I hopefully will achieve a balance of social and solitude that will yield the best work. I’ll let you know how it goes. While I’m on Broadway, ICY SIGNS will be open everyday for your sign and art  needs, come thru!In case you were wondering, I’m HERE, and here’s the reminder. A 12”x12” screenprint on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper in a signed and numbered edition of 50, Its $175 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your address and we’ll send you a PayPal invoiceThank you, see you on Broadway, see you on Fourth Ave!S Nice weather, huh? The door is open at the shop and a 70 degree breeze strolls in from time to time. People on 4th Ave are on the verge of smiling, instead of riding the edge of rage like they do on hot, hazy and humid days. We’re productive in this weather, making paintings and signs and constructing jokes, like: I’m thinking of quitting being an artist, it’s too sketchy.Anyway, as sweet as the air is on this noisy stretch of 4th avenue, I am reopening Studio Gangster, my original creative outlet on Broadway in Tribeca. I’ll be splitting my time between ICY SIGNS (72 4th Ave in Brooklyn) and Studio Gangster (Undisclosed location on Broadway), and I hopefully will achieve a balance of social and solitude that will yield the best work. I’ll let you know how it goes. While I’m on Broadway, ICY SIGNS will be open everyday for your sign and art  needs, come thru!In case you were wondering, I’m HERE, and here’s the reminder. A 12”x12” screenprint on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper in a signed and numbered edition of 50, Its $175 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your address and we’ll send you a PayPal invoiceThank you, see you on Broadway, see you on Fourth Ave!S

Nice weather, huh? The door is open at the shop and a 70 degree breeze strolls in from time to time. People on 4th Ave are on the verge of smiling, instead of riding the edge of rage like they do on hot, hazy and humid days. We’re productive in this weather, making paintings and signs and constructing jokes, like: I’m thinking of quitting being an artist, it’s too sketchy.

Anyway, as sweet as the air is on this noisy stretch of 4th avenue, I am reopening Studio Gangster, my original creative outlet on Broadway in Tribeca. I’ll be splitting my time between ICY SIGNS (72 4th Ave in Brooklyn) and Studio Gangster (Undisclosed location on Broadway), and I hopefully will achieve a balance of social and solitude that will yield the best work. I’ll let you know how it goes. While I’m on Broadway, ICY SIGNS will be open everyday for your sign and art  needs, come thru!

In case you were wondering, I’m HERE, and here’s the reminder. A 12”x12” screenprint on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper in a signed and numbered edition of 50, Its $175 plus shipping. Email us at espoprints@gmail.com with your address and we’ll send you a PayPal invoice

Thank you, see you on Broadway, see you on Fourth Ave!

S

Graffiti? Who cares? Everybody, apparently. Some people love it enough to donate time and resources to painting it. Some people hate it enough to donate time and resources to painting over it. Really the graffiti writer and the buffman (and it’s always a man) are more or less the same. They both make a mark on a wall that doesn’t belong to them, they don’t make it better or worse, just different. Writers are winning in that theirs is the mark of humanity that says “I’m here.” The buffers are losing because theirs is the folly of humanity—to try and sweep waves off the beach. Graffiti in Philadelphia hasn’t changed much in 40 years, but the attitude of the public toward graffiti has changed in several ways since the halcyon days of Cornbread. First everybody loved it, then everybody got tired of it, then Mr. Blint and Razz and the class of 1980 made it cool again. By 1984, it was hated enough to get a guy who promised to get rid of it elected mayor. And that hate persisted all the way until after the National Guard came to Kensington and buffed walls in the run up to the Democratic National Convention—I think the entire city got buffed once and for all. And once graffiti was gone, people got nostalgic for it, and now in 2014 people like it again. The Mural Arts program has gotten fewer and fewer complaints about it over the years, and now my application of a medium to a surface, once hated, is now appreciated. Progress!Jane Golden has been watching this change in attitudes as long as I have, and we’ve talked it through. In the 30 years since the Anti-Graffiti Network started, people have come to understand that graffiti is no big deal. All the walls got clean and it’s still easy to cop heroin and die in the street, proving the “broken windows” theory is broken.On saturday a guy named Lee, misguided about graffiti and out of his mind, buffed the wall ICY SIGNS painted for Kurt Vile’s Wakin’ on a Pretty Daze record. Misguided because he thought our commissioned album design was responsible for the graffiti in the neighborhood. Out of his mind because he was using a crappy 1/4 inch nap roller and interior paint. ICY SIGNS recommends 3/4 inch nap and KILZ exterior primer/sealer. Lee got caught mid-buff, and was washed out by a wave of internet indignation that was hilarious to me and every other writer I know, past and present. None of us can believe anybody gives a care about spraypaint on a wall. As I’ve been telling the buffman since the 80s, graffiti isn’t permanent—the sun is going to take care of it, eventually, and sooner than you think. So, buffman, go solve a real problem, how about shutting down the open air drug market a mile away? Too hard? Tell me about it, you know how long it took me to get a good hand style? When we first painted the wall, we left the tags that were already on the wall when we started. I thought they were kids from the neighborhood and I wanted to leave them up and make them part of the design. I painted the lower half of the wall as fast and as fun as I could, with the same joy as I painted graffiti when I was 17 and free as I will ever be. Turns out the kids were from Baltimore, but a few Philadelphians snuck prints onto the wall and consequently onto Kurt’s album and in doing so returned graffiti to its rightful place on the Philadelphia cultural landscape, dead center where it doesn’t belong. We’ll fix the wall, it will be better than it was in the first place (it’s ALWAYS better the second time). Lee the buffman is retired, now he’s Lee Major Crimes Unit. We forgive Lee, we don’t want anybody in trouble for painting a wall. And graffiti will come and go as it has since the caves in Lascaux. Let’s all go back to not caring too much either way. I spent the weekend finishing the painting for our next print, which of course speaks implicitly and explicitly to the situation at hand, you know how I do. We are taking orders for this 24” x 24” hand pulled screen print on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. It will be a signed and numbered edition of 50 in black and coral (or Chanel peach, whatever looks better). It’s $200 plus shipping, email espoprints@gmail.com with your location and we’ll send a Paypal invoice. Proceeds go to spray paint and loosies from the corner store on Front Street, buy now, we’ll ship on July 14. Oh the painting is on hold, but thanks for asking. Graffiti? Who cares? Everybody, apparently. Some people love it enough to donate time and resources to painting it. Some people hate it enough to donate time and resources to painting over it. Really the graffiti writer and the buffman (and it’s always a man) are more or less the same. They both make a mark on a wall that doesn’t belong to them, they don’t make it better or worse, just different. Writers are winning in that theirs is the mark of humanity that says “I’m here.” The buffers are losing because theirs is the folly of humanity—to try and sweep waves off the beach. Graffiti in Philadelphia hasn’t changed much in 40 years, but the attitude of the public toward graffiti has changed in several ways since the halcyon days of Cornbread. First everybody loved it, then everybody got tired of it, then Mr. Blint and Razz and the class of 1980 made it cool again. By 1984, it was hated enough to get a guy who promised to get rid of it elected mayor. And that hate persisted all the way until after the National Guard came to Kensington and buffed walls in the run up to the Democratic National Convention—I think the entire city got buffed once and for all. And once graffiti was gone, people got nostalgic for it, and now in 2014 people like it again. The Mural Arts program has gotten fewer and fewer complaints about it over the years, and now my application of a medium to a surface, once hated, is now appreciated. Progress!Jane Golden has been watching this change in attitudes as long as I have, and we’ve talked it through. In the 30 years since the Anti-Graffiti Network started, people have come to understand that graffiti is no big deal. All the walls got clean and it’s still easy to cop heroin and die in the street, proving the “broken windows” theory is broken.On saturday a guy named Lee, misguided about graffiti and out of his mind, buffed the wall ICY SIGNS painted for Kurt Vile’s Wakin’ on a Pretty Daze record. Misguided because he thought our commissioned album design was responsible for the graffiti in the neighborhood. Out of his mind because he was using a crappy 1/4 inch nap roller and interior paint. ICY SIGNS recommends 3/4 inch nap and KILZ exterior primer/sealer. Lee got caught mid-buff, and was washed out by a wave of internet indignation that was hilarious to me and every other writer I know, past and present. None of us can believe anybody gives a care about spraypaint on a wall. As I’ve been telling the buffman since the 80s, graffiti isn’t permanent—the sun is going to take care of it, eventually, and sooner than you think. So, buffman, go solve a real problem, how about shutting down the open air drug market a mile away? Too hard? Tell me about it, you know how long it took me to get a good hand style? When we first painted the wall, we left the tags that were already on the wall when we started. I thought they were kids from the neighborhood and I wanted to leave them up and make them part of the design. I painted the lower half of the wall as fast and as fun as I could, with the same joy as I painted graffiti when I was 17 and free as I will ever be. Turns out the kids were from Baltimore, but a few Philadelphians snuck prints onto the wall and consequently onto Kurt’s album and in doing so returned graffiti to its rightful place on the Philadelphia cultural landscape, dead center where it doesn’t belong. We’ll fix the wall, it will be better than it was in the first place (it’s ALWAYS better the second time). Lee the buffman is retired, now he’s Lee Major Crimes Unit. We forgive Lee, we don’t want anybody in trouble for painting a wall. And graffiti will come and go as it has since the caves in Lascaux. Let’s all go back to not caring too much either way. I spent the weekend finishing the painting for our next print, which of course speaks implicitly and explicitly to the situation at hand, you know how I do. We are taking orders for this 24” x 24” hand pulled screen print on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. It will be a signed and numbered edition of 50 in black and coral (or Chanel peach, whatever looks better). It’s $200 plus shipping, email espoprints@gmail.com with your location and we’ll send a Paypal invoice. Proceeds go to spray paint and loosies from the corner store on Front Street, buy now, we’ll ship on July 14. Oh the painting is on hold, but thanks for asking. Graffiti? Who cares? Everybody, apparently. Some people love it enough to donate time and resources to painting it. Some people hate it enough to donate time and resources to painting over it. Really the graffiti writer and the buffman (and it’s always a man) are more or less the same. They both make a mark on a wall that doesn’t belong to them, they don’t make it better or worse, just different. Writers are winning in that theirs is the mark of humanity that says “I’m here.” The buffers are losing because theirs is the folly of humanity—to try and sweep waves off the beach. Graffiti in Philadelphia hasn’t changed much in 40 years, but the attitude of the public toward graffiti has changed in several ways since the halcyon days of Cornbread. First everybody loved it, then everybody got tired of it, then Mr. Blint and Razz and the class of 1980 made it cool again. By 1984, it was hated enough to get a guy who promised to get rid of it elected mayor. And that hate persisted all the way until after the National Guard came to Kensington and buffed walls in the run up to the Democratic National Convention—I think the entire city got buffed once and for all. And once graffiti was gone, people got nostalgic for it, and now in 2014 people like it again. The Mural Arts program has gotten fewer and fewer complaints about it over the years, and now my application of a medium to a surface, once hated, is now appreciated. Progress!Jane Golden has been watching this change in attitudes as long as I have, and we’ve talked it through. In the 30 years since the Anti-Graffiti Network started, people have come to understand that graffiti is no big deal. All the walls got clean and it’s still easy to cop heroin and die in the street, proving the “broken windows” theory is broken.On saturday a guy named Lee, misguided about graffiti and out of his mind, buffed the wall ICY SIGNS painted for Kurt Vile’s Wakin’ on a Pretty Daze record. Misguided because he thought our commissioned album design was responsible for the graffiti in the neighborhood. Out of his mind because he was using a crappy 1/4 inch nap roller and interior paint. ICY SIGNS recommends 3/4 inch nap and KILZ exterior primer/sealer. Lee got caught mid-buff, and was washed out by a wave of internet indignation that was hilarious to me and every other writer I know, past and present. None of us can believe anybody gives a care about spraypaint on a wall. As I’ve been telling the buffman since the 80s, graffiti isn’t permanent—the sun is going to take care of it, eventually, and sooner than you think. So, buffman, go solve a real problem, how about shutting down the open air drug market a mile away? Too hard? Tell me about it, you know how long it took me to get a good hand style? When we first painted the wall, we left the tags that were already on the wall when we started. I thought they were kids from the neighborhood and I wanted to leave them up and make them part of the design. I painted the lower half of the wall as fast and as fun as I could, with the same joy as I painted graffiti when I was 17 and free as I will ever be. Turns out the kids were from Baltimore, but a few Philadelphians snuck prints onto the wall and consequently onto Kurt’s album and in doing so returned graffiti to its rightful place on the Philadelphia cultural landscape, dead center where it doesn’t belong. We’ll fix the wall, it will be better than it was in the first place (it’s ALWAYS better the second time). Lee the buffman is retired, now he’s Lee Major Crimes Unit. We forgive Lee, we don’t want anybody in trouble for painting a wall. And graffiti will come and go as it has since the caves in Lascaux. Let’s all go back to not caring too much either way. I spent the weekend finishing the painting for our next print, which of course speaks implicitly and explicitly to the situation at hand, you know how I do. We are taking orders for this 24” x 24” hand pulled screen print on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. It will be a signed and numbered edition of 50 in black and coral (or Chanel peach, whatever looks better). It’s $200 plus shipping, email espoprints@gmail.com with your location and we’ll send a Paypal invoice. Proceeds go to spray paint and loosies from the corner store on Front Street, buy now, we’ll ship on July 14. Oh the painting is on hold, but thanks for asking. Graffiti? Who cares? Everybody, apparently. Some people love it enough to donate time and resources to painting it. Some people hate it enough to donate time and resources to painting over it. Really the graffiti writer and the buffman (and it’s always a man) are more or less the same. They both make a mark on a wall that doesn’t belong to them, they don’t make it better or worse, just different. Writers are winning in that theirs is the mark of humanity that says “I’m here.” The buffers are losing because theirs is the folly of humanity—to try and sweep waves off the beach. Graffiti in Philadelphia hasn’t changed much in 40 years, but the attitude of the public toward graffiti has changed in several ways since the halcyon days of Cornbread. First everybody loved it, then everybody got tired of it, then Mr. Blint and Razz and the class of 1980 made it cool again. By 1984, it was hated enough to get a guy who promised to get rid of it elected mayor. And that hate persisted all the way until after the National Guard came to Kensington and buffed walls in the run up to the Democratic National Convention—I think the entire city got buffed once and for all. And once graffiti was gone, people got nostalgic for it, and now in 2014 people like it again. The Mural Arts program has gotten fewer and fewer complaints about it over the years, and now my application of a medium to a surface, once hated, is now appreciated. Progress!Jane Golden has been watching this change in attitudes as long as I have, and we’ve talked it through. In the 30 years since the Anti-Graffiti Network started, people have come to understand that graffiti is no big deal. All the walls got clean and it’s still easy to cop heroin and die in the street, proving the “broken windows” theory is broken.On saturday a guy named Lee, misguided about graffiti and out of his mind, buffed the wall ICY SIGNS painted for Kurt Vile’s Wakin’ on a Pretty Daze record. Misguided because he thought our commissioned album design was responsible for the graffiti in the neighborhood. Out of his mind because he was using a crappy 1/4 inch nap roller and interior paint. ICY SIGNS recommends 3/4 inch nap and KILZ exterior primer/sealer. Lee got caught mid-buff, and was washed out by a wave of internet indignation that was hilarious to me and every other writer I know, past and present. None of us can believe anybody gives a care about spraypaint on a wall. As I’ve been telling the buffman since the 80s, graffiti isn’t permanent—the sun is going to take care of it, eventually, and sooner than you think. So, buffman, go solve a real problem, how about shutting down the open air drug market a mile away? Too hard? Tell me about it, you know how long it took me to get a good hand style? When we first painted the wall, we left the tags that were already on the wall when we started. I thought they were kids from the neighborhood and I wanted to leave them up and make them part of the design. I painted the lower half of the wall as fast and as fun as I could, with the same joy as I painted graffiti when I was 17 and free as I will ever be. Turns out the kids were from Baltimore, but a few Philadelphians snuck prints onto the wall and consequently onto Kurt’s album and in doing so returned graffiti to its rightful place on the Philadelphia cultural landscape, dead center where it doesn’t belong. We’ll fix the wall, it will be better than it was in the first place (it’s ALWAYS better the second time). Lee the buffman is retired, now he’s Lee Major Crimes Unit. We forgive Lee, we don’t want anybody in trouble for painting a wall. And graffiti will come and go as it has since the caves in Lascaux. Let’s all go back to not caring too much either way. I spent the weekend finishing the painting for our next print, which of course speaks implicitly and explicitly to the situation at hand, you know how I do. We are taking orders for this 24” x 24” hand pulled screen print on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. It will be a signed and numbered edition of 50 in black and coral (or Chanel peach, whatever looks better). It’s $200 plus shipping, email espoprints@gmail.com with your location and we’ll send a Paypal invoice. Proceeds go to spray paint and loosies from the corner store on Front Street, buy now, we’ll ship on July 14. Oh the painting is on hold, but thanks for asking.

Graffiti? Who cares? Everybody, apparently. Some people love it enough to donate time and resources to painting it. Some people hate it enough to donate time and resources to painting over it. Really the graffiti writer and the buffman (and it’s always a man) are more or less the same. They both make a mark on a wall that doesn’t belong to them, they don’t make it better or worse, just different. Writers are winning in that theirs is the mark of humanity that says “I’m here.” The buffers are losing because theirs is the folly of humanity—to try and sweep waves off the beach.

Graffiti in Philadelphia hasn’t changed much in 40 years, but the attitude of the public toward graffiti has changed in several ways since the halcyon days of Cornbread. First everybody loved it, then everybody got tired of it, then Mr. Blint and Razz and the class of 1980 made it cool again. By 1984, it was hated enough to get a guy who promised to get rid of it elected mayor. And that hate persisted all the way until after the National Guard came to Kensington and buffed walls in the run up to the Democratic National Convention—I think the entire city got buffed once and for all. And once graffiti was gone, people got nostalgic for it, and now in 2014 people like it again. The Mural Arts program has gotten fewer and fewer complaints about it over the years, and now my application of a medium to a surface, once hated, is now appreciated. Progress!

Jane Golden has been watching this change in attitudes as long as I have, and we’ve talked it through. In the 30 years since the Anti-Graffiti Network started, people have come to understand that graffiti is no big deal. All the walls got clean and it’s still easy to cop heroin and die in the street, proving the “broken windows” theory is broken.

On saturday a guy named Lee, misguided about graffiti and out of his mind, buffed the wall ICY SIGNS painted for Kurt Vile’s Wakin’ on a Pretty Daze record. Misguided because he thought our commissioned album design was responsible for the graffiti in the neighborhood. Out of his mind because he was using a crappy 1/4 inch nap roller and interior paint. ICY SIGNS recommends 3/4 inch nap and KILZ exterior primer/sealer.

Lee got caught mid-buff, and was washed out by a wave of internet indignation that was hilarious to me and every other writer I know, past and present. None of us can believe anybody gives a care about spraypaint on a wall. As I’ve been telling the buffman since the 80s, graffiti isn’t permanent—the sun is going to take care of it, eventually, and sooner than you think. So, buffman, go solve a real problem, how about shutting down the open air drug market a mile away? Too hard? Tell me about it, you know how long it took me to get a good hand style?

When we first painted the wall, we left the tags that were already on the wall when we started. I thought they were kids from the neighborhood and I wanted to leave them up and make them part of the design. I painted the lower half of the wall as fast and as fun as I could, with the same joy as I painted graffiti when I was 17 and free as I will ever be. Turns out the kids were from Baltimore, but a few Philadelphians snuck prints onto the wall and consequently onto Kurt’s album and in doing so returned graffiti to its rightful place on the Philadelphia cultural landscape, dead center where it doesn’t belong.

We’ll fix the wall, it will be better than it was in the first place (it’s ALWAYS better the second time). Lee the buffman is retired, now he’s Lee Major Crimes Unit. We forgive Lee, we don’t want anybody in trouble for painting a wall. And graffiti will come and go as it has since the caves in Lascaux. Let’s all go back to not caring too much either way.

I spent the weekend finishing the painting for our next print, which of course speaks implicitly and explicitly to the situation at hand, you know how I do. We are taking orders for this 24” x 24” hand pulled screen print on 334 gram Coventry Rag paper. It will be a signed and numbered edition of 50 in black and coral (or Chanel peach, whatever looks better). It’s $200 plus shipping, email espoprints@gmail.com with your location and we’ll send a Paypal invoice. Proceeds go to spray paint and loosies from the corner store on Front Street, buy now, we’ll ship on July 14. Oh the painting is on hold, but thanks for asking.

Stephen Powers - Sketch 10 “Glad You’re Back” - 06/23/14