Graffiti’s roots lie not only in the spray can but in the lives of children who had nowhere else to turn. Its medium was born from science and industry: in 1927, Norwegian engineer Erik Rotheim patented the first aerosol can and valve system. During World War II, U.S. researchers Lyle Goodhue and William Sullivan refined the technology to create portable insect repellent sprayers for soldiers, powered by liquefied gas. By 1949, engineer Robert Abplanalp perfected the crimp-on valve, making aerosol cans mass-producible. By the 1950s, companies like Krylon sold them commercially, never imagining that urban youth in Philadelphia and New York would take this technology and build an art movement that was both a rebellion and a lifeline.
The first modern graffiti writers were not vandals in the simple sense, they were children raised in broken systems. Julio 204 scrawled his name across New York before the Vietnam War, but it was Cornbread in Philadelphia who gave graffiti its first heartbeat. A child failed by his home and schools, Cornbread discovered that painting his nickname on buses and walls gave him a feeling nothing else could: proof that he existed. His defiant acts inspired peers like Cool Earl and Top Cat 126, setting off a chain reaction across Philadelphia and into New York City.
By the late 1960s and early 1970s, New York’s children lived in neighborhoods hit by multiple crises. Landlords torched buildings for insurance, leaving entire blocks in rubble. Schools lost art and music programs to budget cuts, leaving children with no creative outlet. Corruption in city government funneled money away from communities. The War on Drugs devastated young minds: heroin, and later crack cocaine, infiltrated Black and Latino neighborhoods, bringing addiction, violence, and systemic incarceration. Policing was heavy-handed, disproportionately targeting youth of color, while federal policies facilitated the drug trade in impoverished areas. Children grew up surrounded by chaos, fear, and scarcity, with little opportunity to explore their creativity in safe spaces.
In this environment, graffiti became both therapy and rebellion. Kids scavenged or shoplifted paint from hardware stores, made homemade markers, and pooled spare change to buy supplies. At night, they sneaked from their homes, dodging police and guard dogs, to climb into train yards. The black book became their classroom: a place to practice letters, experiment with color, and exchange ideas with friends. Out of these sessions came innovation: Taki 183 brought fame to the tag; Super Kool 223 scaled it up with giant letters; and Phase 2 introduced the first bubble letters. Erni Vales pioneered 3D lettering, giving graffiti depth and dimension that had never been seen before. Stay High 149 integrated symbols and characters, while Tracy 168 invented “wildstyle,” an intricate, nearly indecipherable form that emphasized rhythm and energy. Blade painted thousands of trains, and Lee Quiñones created full-car murals that turned trains into moving art galleries.
Other pioneers like JEC Star, SJK 171, Mike 171, Stitch 1, Rocky 184, Snake 1, Cat 87, Web 2, Comet, Piper, Super Stuff, Staff 161, Tull 13, In, Pel 139, Eva and Barbara 62, Noc 167, Billy 167, Coco 144, Riff 170, and Jester each contributed unique voices, expanding the underground culture and vocabulary of graffiti across boroughs. Their styles drew inspiration from the world around them: record sleeves, Broadway posters, comic books, and psychedelic flyers. They transformed the destruction around them into creativity, color, and hope. A legacy that remains today, places in peril that young artists inhabit find refuge the same way, through a message on the walls without permission. Even amidst drugs and violence, these children found ways to heal themselves and their communities through art, reclaiming streets and trains as spaces of self-expression.
Recognition came slowly, these artists were demonized and hunted by smear campaigns in the news and ads on the street endorsed by celebrities. Later on criminalization and persecution would become another category of infamy as innovation, which added to the art movement’s cultural impact and appeal. Authorities condemned graffiti as crime and decay by creating policies and laws in efforts to end it, but Martha Cooper and Henry Chalfant documented these artists in photographs and film which immortalized them as heroes and icons. Their 1984 book Subway Art, deemed the Bible of graffiti, introduced the world to the movement, showing that what had been dismissed as vandalism was in fact a groundbreaking visual culture that helped shed light on the wounds of elitism, racism, and criminal injustice inflicted upon minorities and impoverished families.
Today, many of these brave pioneers are celebrated worldwide. Lady Pink, who started doing graffiti at the age of seven, became a globally acclaimed muralist. Mare 139 who started early at eleven, later on translated graffiti and breakdancing into sculpture. Cornbread is remembered as the godfather of the movement. Lee Quiñones and Erni Vales are hailed as masters of scale and dimension. Children who survived drugs, poverty, and violence transformed those experiences into enduring art that continues to inspire.
Respect to the Pioneers:
Erik Rotheim, Lyle Goodhue, William Sullivan, Robert Abplanalp—the inventors of the spray can. Julio 204, the first New York tagger. Cornbread and Cool Earl, fathers of Philadelphia graffiti. Top Cat 126, Taki 183, Super Kool 223, Phase 2, Tracy 168, Stay High 149, Erni Vales, and the 171 Crew, who carried the movement into New York. Lady Pink and Mare 139, children sneaking out to write their names into history. Piper, Super Stuff, Staff 161, Comet, Jester, Blade, Tull 13, In, Pel 139, Eva and Barbara 62, Noc 167, Billy 167, Coco 144, Riff 170, and Lee Quiñones—the muralist who turned whole subway cars into moving museums. Martha Cooper and Henry Chalfant, who gave these voices permanence. Credit to many more brave artists; together, these names form the first generation of heroes—once invisible children, now immortal legends through paint.
Photograph - Skeme, the Bronx, 1982. Copyright Martha Cooper.
