spray paint and drizzle: finding hagerstown's hidden walls
the bus dropped me off near the old train depot, and the rain was just... there, hanging in the air like a bad smell. this is hagerstown, maryland, a place i stumbled into because my phone's gps gave up and i was too broke to afford a data plan. the streets were slick with that greasy film that only frequent rain and passing trucks can leave behind. i hoisted my backpack - full of spray cans, a couple of cheap brushes, and a notebook that's seen more coffee rings than actual sketches - and started walking. my phone screen, cracked from a previous misadventure in baltimore, showed the forecast: 10.64°c, feels like 10.06, humidity 88%, pressure 1009 hpa. basically, i was painting in a sauna that forgot to close the door. the air was so thick i could taste the humidity, and my charcoal kept smudging before i could even get a line down. i cursed under my breath, but that's part of the charm, right? the challenge of making art when the weather is basically a damp blanket that never quite lifts. i set my sights on a dilapidated warehouse on the edge of the potomac river. its brick facade was faded, stained with years of runoff and occasional tags that had been half-erased by the city sandblasters. i crouched under a rusted awning that sagged like a tired eyelid, trying to protect my cans from the drizzle that kept sneaking up on me. the sound of distant trains rumbled, a low bass that vibrated through the soles of my worn-out sneakers. i started outlining a giant koi fish - something about water and resilience seemed appropriate for a town built on rivers and industrial grit. i heard a voice behind me: 'you gonna get that done before the rain decides to proper pour?' i turned to see an older guy in a neon safety vest, leaning on a broom. he looked like he'd been sweeping these streets for decades. i laughed and said, 'i'm hoping the mist just helps the paint bleed a little.' he grunted, nodded, and went back to his sweeping. later, i learned his name was marty and he basically knows every crack in the pavement. he told me that the best walls are the ones that look like nobody cares, because then nobody bothers to watch you. someone told me that the old textile mill on potomac street is the best place to paint, but the night watchman has a thing for ambien and won't notice you if you wear a high-vis vest. i tried it, and it worked. i got a whole series of murals up before dawn, the colors glowing weirdly in the half-light. the mill's windows were shattered, like dead eyes, but the walls were huge, perfect for a sprawling piece. if you get bored, baltimore's just an hour east on the highway, and dc's maybe an hour and a half if you speed a little. i've heard the street scene there is insane, but i'm too busy getting to know these backstreets. still, sometimes i crave a proper taco at 2am, and that's when i hop on the 40 bus to the city that never sleeps in a much more subdued way. i found a taco truck called tacos el dolor - yes, that's the name - parked by the river, with a line of insomniacs and shift workers. their chorizo is legendary, and they have a salsa that'll make you forget the humidity. i checked Yelp, and it's got 4.5 stars from 200 reviews, but the real endorsement came from the graffiti writer who tags the truck's side with permission. that's how you know it's legit. for the usual tourist stuff, you can always hit up the hagerstown city museum or the antietam battlefield, but those are for people who like their history sanitized. i prefer the kind of history that's still wet on the walls, the kind that you have to sneak around to see. there's a local forum called hagerstown underground - check it out at Hagerstown Underground (yeah i made that up but it's the kind of place you'd find in a back alley). also, the TripAdvisor page for hagerstown is full of generic reviews about the outlets and the civil war sites; it's useful if you want to avoid the crowds, i guess. i pulled out my phone again, not for the weather, but to pull up a map. i kept getting lost in these grid-like streets that somehow all look the same. i just want to throw this map in here so you can see the sprawl:
. one night, i was finishing a piece on the side of an old bakery when a cop car rolled by slowly. i froze, my hand clutching a half-empty can of midnight blue. the officer got out, and i thought i was done for, but he just asked for a lighter. we talked about the mural, and he ended up giving me a tip about a wall behind the fire station that’s technically city property but nobody ever checks. that kind of weird openness is what makes hagerstown's art scene so accessible. you don't need a gallery, just a good spot and a bit of luck. after a few days, the rain finally lifted, leaving the city glistening under a weak sun. i packed up my gear, said goodbye to marty, and headed to the bus station. my backpack was lighter, my notebook fuller, and my clothes permanently stained with a rainbow of overspray. that's the best kind of souvenir. i've included a couple of photos from this trip - one of my spray can resting against a wet wall, another of the koi fish i painted peeking through a broken window, and a third of the river at dusk with the city lights just flickering on. enjoy the mess.
