So I've been walking around the neighborhood quite a bit, as is typical. One of the great things about downtown is how you discover new things on streets you've walked down a dozen times before. "Eurotrash" pops into your head as you walk by the shiny-suit store—the one with the mannequin in the window with his thumbs-pointed down, saving you the effort of rejecting the outfit yourself... "Tourists eat there," you tell yourself about an uninspiring restaurant a little too close to Union Square... Some shops say "marina" or "bridge and tunnel"; sometimes advertisements pop-up overnight—like this giant insurance ad on a Starbucks wall making you despise both the insurance agent AND Starbucks even more than before (if that's possible). Then there's the ubiquitous "TheLoin" stickers, whoever the fuck those people are, and the stickers for Huff shoes across the street from...(wait for it)...Huff Shoes, placed there strategically for those whose attention span is so short they need to be reminded every half block... All of these are institutions, "fixtures" if you will, that form the backdrop of a familiar terrain. Whether directed toward me or not, I'm happy to see them and feel no need to investigate further... Recently, however, a new face has been revealing itself in the neighborhood. It declares itself slyly up and down nearly every street—its red, black and white color scheme distinguishable from literally blocks away. Whatever genius of graffiti is responsible for these amazing tags deserves real credit; his insignia is well-placed and in amazingly hard-to-reach places. Sometimes his tag is downright huge, splayed over 20 feet on the side of a brick building. Naturally, this has piqued my interest in a way that nothing else has. I have become a man obsessed—consumed by my curiosity—enslaved by my desire to unravel this mysterious singularity: I must find out who this "Academy of Art" is and what he is trying to tell me.¹

I first noticed the black/red/white insignias on a dreary April afternoon. Rising along the walls of a 7-story building on Sutter and hidden from the street by a parking garage, there it was, like Batman's light, demanding a response. What the fuck is that? I thought. Was it there yesterday? Have I been that drunk? ...Maybe... Or maybe the neighborhood's informational diversity had been hiding it in front of my eyes? Once I noticed it on one wall, I saw it on another, and then another. The logo hangs defiantly along nearly every street-facing wall in the Tenderloin Heights area. From abandoned buildings, seemingly devoid of life, occasionally I see underage squatters coming and going from make-shift entrances—some of them carrying the Academy of Art marker on their bags and shirts. Perhaps this "Academy of Art" is an entire team of taggers on a mission to claim the whole of San Francisco as their own?

I began to loiter outside of one of their main squats. I must confront them, I thought, I must seek out their demands, pursue understanding...

The first, most obvious thing I noticed was that they had developed a transportation system with what appeared to be a regular schedule.

Is this a cult? I thought. A terrorist operation?

After a night-long stakeout I eventually spotted one of their conveyances. An all black contraption resembling a prison bus pulled up and shuffled them onboard. At first, I suspected they were being rounded up, but then some of them were left behind—an arrangement, perhaps, with the authorities...? The more I studied them, the more I realized how entrenched they were—more than I ever could have feared. As the bus pulled away, carrying the misguided youth to their confinement, I again spotted the "Academy of Art" insignia, and my respect for their ability grew even further. Those little fuckers have nerve! I thought. You've got to give them that... Not having much success with direct engagement, I decided to try and speak to them in a language they might understand. I posted an appeal for communication on every lamp post I could find but received no response. I considered painting over all of their tags, but then I realized that was too obvious. They would never respond to such blatant and obvious provocation. Instead, I moved my signs to the Yank newspaper stands but still nothing. Eventually, seeking an even lower strata of society, I posted them in any and all SF Bay Guardian newsstands, and finally I struck Gold!

The responses came quickly but at odd hours and in unpredictable ways. First I heard a series of grunts and laughter. It was late, but I looked out my window, and there was a group of them downstairs. Hastily, I joined their crowd and tried to fit in, smoking casually and waiting for my time to jump in.

"So, what's this Academy of Art all about?" I asked.
"Yeah," said an 18-year-old boy in a gray hoodie.
"Uh-huh," said his shorter friend.
"Manga manga manga," said their other friend.
"Did you see the Project Runway finale? Oh my god."
I racked my brain. They were clearly fucking with me.
"So, uh-huh, yeah, like, how did you guys get that logo up on the side of that one building?" I asked.
"Easy, dude."
"Yeah dude, take it easy."
Crap, I thought. They're frontin'.
"Stuff. Ung. Fo Shizzle," I said. "Graphhh. l33t."
"Dude, huh-huh. Whatever."

Fuck this, I thought and began to lose my temper as I returned to my apartment. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I shouted. "PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP HERE. WHY ARE YOU IDIOTS MAKING SO MUCH FUCKING NOISE OUTSIDE MY WINDOW? I WILL CALL THE SECURITY GUARD."
"Nah man, it's cool, we're with the Academy. No problem. Thanks for being cool about it."
They climbed back into their squat and were quiet for the rest of the night.

My efforts have been strong thus far but unsuccessful. In one last ditch effort to unravel this mystery, I called a meeting with a local newspaper and asked the Editors if they knew anything about it. They, too, however, indicated a similar lack of success in identifying this "Academy of Art" and wanted to know more.

One thing is clear, if nothing else: This is no mere graffiti crew. To get the truth we hereby issue this appeal: (Please, for the love of god, we must know!)

AN OPEN APPEAL TO THE "ACADEMY OF ART"

We, the humble editors of The Loin's Mouth (on behalf of the concerned citizens of the Greater Tenderloin), do hereby implore this amazing "Academy of Art" graffiti team to step forward and explain the significance of your organization. To simplify your efforts, we have collectively identified the following possibilities:

1. SLUMLORD: Like a Citiapartments for rich kids. We suspect you may primarily be engaged in "boost-and-flips," whereby you purchase old buildings in the heart of the city, jack up the rent to 3k for a studio and then sell it to some poor sucker down the road who watches too many infomercials and can't even afford to change the sign out front after they gain title.
2. IMPERIALIST: It started out small. The logo was subtle, tasteful. At first, there were a handful of buildings. Then we went around the corner. Holy shit, you guys are fucking everywhere. Here's a tip: The gold is hidden in a large number of tiny, moist caves.
3. GAY JAPANESE HIPSTER FACTORY: Seems obvious. We had to ask.
4. REALITY TV PROGRAM: Big in the Midwest, we're thinking? On the PAX channel? (We've never seen it, which proves nothing.)
5. MACHINE THAT PRINTS MONEY: Nobody with their name on that many buildings in SF is anything but rich. Tell us, what is your secret?
6. FAILED PHILANTHROPIST: In a misguided effort to gentrify the rag-tag TL you have inadvertently assembled a Monopoly on cockroach-infested shitbag buildings and filled them with undesirable tenants. Leave this one to the big boys... mmmkay?
7. ART SCHOOL: Riight...

1 Graffiti is an ancient art-form, stretching all the way back to the early 1980's. Many graffiti artists die in their mid-20's from paint fume inhalation, but it is believed that more than 57% of graffiti artists in San Francisco are eventually flattened by MUNI bus drivers. In any event, few gain notoriety. To be a legendary "bomber" is underground celebrity, but to achieve exposure one must develop agility that is unmatched, staking out your territory where even building owners are unwilling to paint over your work. It is with this knowledge that I have come to realize that "Academy of Art" may well be the greatest graffiti artist of our generation.