New York 1973 I am standing on the elevated platform at 161st Street in the South Bronx taking photographs of the "painted trains". I look out over Grand Concourse and watch FDNY fire-fighters hose down the smouldering remains of a tenement building burndown, as another slum landlord decides to cash in his chips. Police sirens howl and whine a few blocks to the south and an open-top Buick Roadmaster cruises past on the street below. Two large cabinet speakers resting on the back seat of the convertible blast out a bass heavy "Bewildered" by James Brown, all horn riffs and wah-wah guitar. Oddball characters saunter along the platform waiting for the downtown train and as they pass by I get various offers to enlighten me about Jesus, to purchase any kind of drug, to buy a "nice Rolex watch" and suggestions as to where I should stick my Nikon. I graciously decline all offers and make a mental note to keep the camera out of sight. The rails shudder and vibrate as the Lexington Avenue Express, heading down through Manhattan to Atlantic Avenue pulls into the station. Exposed to strong sunlight, the colour of the graffiti writing is more vibrant than when seen underground and the letter- forms that spread along each and every carriage delivers an explosion of creativity, a haunting presence in its originality and power to shock. The sprayed paint is fresh and bright and recent attempts to clean the carriage windows with solvent gives off an acrid smell in the 90 degree heat. As the departing crowd surged to the exit I start to click the camera shutter. My first encounter with significant graffiti writing had been in 1969 in my immediate neighbourhood around London"s Notting Hill. The Post-Situationist group "King Mob", which included activist/art student and future Sex Pistols manager, Malcolm McClaren, was responsible for a graffiti blitz on the streets of West London that often included quotes from the romantic poets. On the walls of Powis Square I witnessed William Blake"s lines "THE ROAD OF EXCESS LEADS TO THE PALACE OF WISDOM" - within days WISDOM was changed to WILLESDEN (a North London Suburb). In Basing Street W11, I photographed William Blake"s "THE TIGERS OF WRATH ARE WISER THAN THE HORSES OF INSTRUCTION" with added tags including "rent revolt", "Rangers", "John" and "Paul". On Portobello Road, with another nod to the Beatles and a sardonic goodbye to the year of Peace & Love was "ALL YOU NEED IS DYNAMITE" along with "BURN IT DOWN", "DYNAMITE IS FREEDOM" and "GET HIGH ON DYNAMITE". My favourite graffiti piece, running for half a mile on a wall alongside the subway line from Ladbroke Grove to Westbourne Park in 4 foot high letters and seen daily by thousands of commuters was: "SAME THING - DAY AFTER DAY - TUBE - WORK - DINNER -WORK-TUBE-ARMCHAIR-TV-SLEEP-TUBE-WORK-HOW MUCHMORECANYOUTAKE-ONEINTENGOMAD-ONE IN FIVE CRACKS UP". However, this graffiti writing could not prepare me for what I was later going to see in the badlands of New York City. During my visits to New York in the 1970s I observed a scenario of both hope and despair. The city was in financial crisis with debts of over a billion dollars with an infrastructure in decay. Federal money for new housing had been diverted to help finance the war in Vietnam and over 600,000 jobs had been lost over a five year period in New York City alone. For all its perceived style, fashion and glamour, New York was a city of "haves" and "have-nots." Alongside the magnificent Art Galleries and Museums, the world-famous Department Stores and tourist sites, the Empire State Building, The Chrysler Building, The Statue of Liberty and Greenwich Village, there was another New York City, one of urban decay, with crumbling buildings abandoned by their owners because tenants could not pay the rent, unemployment, abject poverty and drug abuse. These desperate conditions had given rise to noto