Art Basel: A graffiti writers paradise
A writers perspective on
the Art Basel experience
It’s 4 AM, and the city is still buzzing as a group of us stand on the rooftop of an abandoned building, watching the small cars and metro bustle below. This is the last spot of the night, and we’ve been going hard since we woke up the day before. I can feel my adrenaline kicking in, sharpening my focus. I step out onto the short ledge, no guardrails to keep me from falling. I move quickly, painting a large crew piece. The chrome spreads like magic against the tile, and the feeling is surreal as I see helicopters in the distance..
RIP 2BUCK FST
I board a flight early in the morning from my city, and within a few hours, I land in Miami, immediately feeling the energy in the air. As the Uber takes me to my Airbnb, my view is filled with beautiful architecture, graffiti tags, and murals adorning the freeways. It reminds me of California—thick air, bustling energy, traffic, and a party atmosphere. I stop at a café to grab a bacon, egg, and cheese with a latte while working on some sketches. It’s hot, I’m sweating carrying a duffle bag down the street, and I catch streaker tags on every dumpster I pass.
I’ve been in the city for 12 hours and haven’t been to a single party since leaving the airport. Surrounded by artists and tourists flocking to Art Basel for warmer weather, a lusty atmosphere, and flowing alcohol, my mind is focused on just one goal: getting up. While some are here for fun, networking, and parties, we’re here to hit as many spots as possible, making the most of the short time we have. We’re going all-out—hitting every surface we can with Etch, streakers, throw-ups, and fast tags. From broad daylight to the middle of the night, the action never stops. I’ve removed all limits, marking surface after surface to my heart’s content.
Basel is a dream destination for both writers and tourists. It’s an experience like no other. With so many people and artists from all over the world converging for a weekend filled with paint, the energy in the air is palpable. As you spend time here, you watch clean streets and spots gradually get overtaken by different writers as the days go on. There are endless walls and spots, and it feels like you can do anything you want. Taking to the streets, all surfaces (within reason) become viable canvases. With all this activity, it’s also a huge opportunity to meet other artists, build connections, and expose yourself to new ideas and styles. Museums and galleries are filled with prominent artists where you can meet them and get a glimpse of their work in person.
The first wall starts easy with a nice corner spot set up by Boston legend RELM. I paint a huge roll-down gate with a copper fill, black outline, and pink background. Task, Venom, and RELM follow in, painting characters and burners, covering the spot end to end. It gets a lot of visibility—so much so that later that night, someone crashes into another vehicle right in front of the piece, denting the gate and taking out the street sign! So far, this trip feels limitless. At this point, the world is literally a canvas for the taking.
As I walk by galleries, something stands out. I see works by artists I don’t know, and a feeling of… something hits me. Not jealousy, but more like confusion. This piece is called "graffiti," but it feels like viewing a tiger behind a cage. It seems out of place—fake. A close copy, but something’s missing. The pompous attitude, the overly affluent style of the curators and participants, all feels forced. It’s a leased experience, where everyone seems to be flexing on each other. The works, said to be full of substance, somehow miss the mark.
Then I come across the Museum of Graffiti, and I’m instantly drawn in. The work here feels authentic. Being in a place that documents and honors our history feels like home. These are my people. I can see why this feels right, while the galleries feel more fake. As a writer, taking that risk and claiming the space resonates with me. It’s impossible to gatekeep, and though we’re often shunned, we take it for ourselves!
Next up is a full-scale comic book-style production with the FSTs in the heart of Wynwood, right next to the Montana shop. We rocked a monochromatic scheme with a comic book-style background and roughly six artists. This was the highlight wall. We spent most of the day here, relaxing and painting, the smell of weed in the air, music blaring. People, police, and other artists flooded the streets, and we were right in the middle of the action. I look over to my left and see an artist covering a fire hydrant in stickers. Across from him is a custom-built beatbox car blaring breakbeats. It’s a surreal moment like none other.
Seeing how some artists were able to bridge graffiti into the contemporary space gave me the validation that there’s a right way to do it, and someone like me could make it into that setting. It was inspiring to see artists who not only enjoy street art but elevate themselves while staying true to their roots. I really admire that. I enjoy being challenged, and seeing others push higher only pushes my own process. It’s another way of getting up—making your own path in spaces where you wouldn’t normally be, applying the all-city mentality to professional work. Balancing both street and commission work would saturate your brand and impact the community in a way that’s impossible to ignore.
The biggest lesson from this trip was to push myself out of my comfort zone. When I get home, I want to take a moment to think about the self-imposed limitations I’ve placed on myself and my work. How can I break out of that and do more with what I create? At the end of the day, this trip wasn’t about partying or flexing leased cars and jewelry—it was about putting in the work. Just a few more hours on the road to mastery. It was about those funny moments, seeing the city and all its creativity, and making memories that most people will never experience.
Join Our Movement
We’re creating a space where graffiti can thrive outside of algorithms. Get involved in our forum, contribute to 400ml, and help bring the culture back to its roots. Email us at hello@4hundredml.com if you’re interested in contributing.
