Autograf
[ author: peter sutherland ]
 You know how most children have far-fetched aspirations to become cowboys or astronauts or Tarzan? I never had those dreams. I never wanted to be anything at all. I realized at a young age there was nothing glamorous about work, regardless of the occupation. I made a pact with God that if he allowed me to pass through this life without ever having to work a day in my life I would make it up to him in the afterlife in some way. Then I turned 12, got a paper route and I have hated my life and God since. (Just kidding God, chill out.) The only job I thought I'd enjoy was being a graffiti artist. I wasn't sure if graffiti artists even got paid, but after skateboarding in Harlem I fell in love with the crazy, beautiful writing on the walls despite the fact that I had no idea what the hell it said.
Actually, at first I didn't know half the shit that I saw was suppose to spell anything. I have bad eyes, I've never been able to find the hidden picture in those 3-D illusion posters and most of the time I can't tell if the graffiti I'm looking at says DALEK or Zimbabwe. That fact, coupled with my really bad penmanship almost deterred me from my newfound career in writing my name in pretty colors all over the tri-state area. Then I saw a series of wheat-paste posters by COST and REVS. They were nothing more than funny sayings printed off the computer in Helvetica and photocopied. I said, "I can do that."
After many hours of trying to come up with the best alter ego possible and passing on such gems as KILL Y.T. (pronounced kill whitey), FUCK (how can you not laugh when you see this word?), and CHRIS, I decided to go with O'JAY (because I was a big fan of the O'Jays and this was right around the time that O.J. was on trial for murder.). I had a friend who wrote DOAP (pronounced dope) and we decided to cover New York City with signs that read: O'JAY SMOKES DOAP. It was going to be amazing, we'd get up in all boroughs, working over-time just so people could get a little laugh on their way to work. I made 1,000 posters, gave some to Doap and we went our separate ways. I knew from the moment I dipped my paint roller into the glue that I would go down as one of the great writers of all time. Some day people would see my work in museums and galleries and professors would teach confused, insecure college students of my artistry. I was so deep in thought about the female fans who would throw their bodies on me that I didn't notice the police officer board the subway train. He pulled me off the train, up the platform and into the back of a squad car. He confiscated all my signs and let me sit in a cell for hours before being allowed to see the judge and pay my fine. Not even one of my signs ever went public. Just like that I realized that I wasn't ninja enough to make it as a graf artist.
The funny thing is somewhere along the way I forgot how bad I am at being stealth and I made a 11 x 17 stencil of my skateshop's logo (which you can download at www.NJSkateshop.com and attempted to cover my town with it. Did I mention I was drunk? Well, I was. And again I got arrested before I finished even one stencil. Fine: $576 plus court fees.
The moral of these stories is two-fold. First, bad things happen to day dreamers. Secondly, most of us do not have the skill, talent, cunning, or heart to make the world a more beautiful place by way of spray cans. Autograf is a book for everybody that ever caught a boner wishing they had the balls to get out there and bomb. Photographer Peter Sutherland does a fantastic job of making us feel like we are down with New York's finest without the fear of spending the night with NYPD's finest. Kisses, Peter.
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