Los Angeles graffiti surfaces in bold colors

LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - They have names like Wisk, Revok, Panic and Oiler. They work mostly in the dark, often above six lanes of hurtling freeway traffic, and their spray-can creations sometimes last only a day.

To many people, they are vandals or "taggers" whose stylized scrawls deface neighborhoods and cost cities millions of dollars to paint over.

But in the underground, illegal world of graffiti, they are "writers" with their own vocabulary, code of ethics, mutual respect and distinctive styles.

"The above-ground world has often been condescending towards most graffiti -- although granted some of the best work is often out of the public eye," said Steve Grody, whose new illustrated book "Graffiti L.A." gets the stories of dozens of graffiti writers in print for the first time.

"There is no way you can drive around Los Angeles for more than five minutes without seeing 'tags'," he said, of the monikers sprayed in bright, bold letters on the sprawling city's walls, freeway signs, trains and lampposts.

"But finding the more involved, often hidden pieces, is like finding buried treasure."

Los Angeles is one of the world's most prolific centers for graffiti, its miles of crisscrossing freeways, concrete river banks and urban sprawl providing a tempting canvas.

ART OR VANDALISM?

"The question, 'Is it art, or is it vandalism?' was buried 25 years ago," said James Prigoff, co-author of "Spraycan Art," published in 1987.

"This is the only art form created by youth," Prigoff said, noting that "Graffiti L.A." was launched in May with a panel discussion at the Museum of Contemporary Art.

Grody traces modern Los Angeles graffiti back to the 1930s gang culture of the city's tough east side. Graffiti later became the visual expression of hip-hop culture that began to take shape in the 1970s and which penetrated street fashion, music and dance.

Contrary to popular belief, Grody said that only a small minority of graffiti or tagging is carried out by the city's notorious gangs. Most of the graffiti writers he interviewed see it as social or political expression.

"If you want to know what's going on with a city look at the writing on the wall; you can tell what skill level and what social problems are happening, what's going on with youth," the book quotes graffiti writer Toons as saying.

Others see their bold, colorful designs as beautification of locations that are normally considered urban blight.

"We love Los Angeles. We are not here to mess up Los Angeles," said Revok, a 17-year veteran graffiti writer quoted in "Graffiti

L.A."

"A lot of the time we are appropriating dilapidated spaces or abandoned buildings. Beige or grey walls to me are ugly. To do something with that space that makes it more interesting... is a lot more attractive to me than billboards advertising breast augmentation," Revok said.

Most start out working alone with a spray can as their paintbrush and an alley wall as their canvas for "throw-ups", or quickly done, simple letter outlines.

HEAVENS, BOMBING AND PIECES

Notoriety is especially prized, making high or difficult-to-reach targets called "heavens" such as the back of freeway signs especially appealing. It's also much harder for authorities to remove quickly.

Crews, with names like CBS (Can't Be Stopped) TKO (TaKingOver) or MSK (Mad Society Kings) are often formed for larger, more complex "pieces" (short for masterpieces), in obscure locations.

Daredevil feats, arrests and encounters with the law are seen as occupational hazards -- like the story about a writer called Saber who impaled his abdomen on a metal fence spike while making a quick exit.

Much as graffiti writers regard their culture as beyond taming, many have self-imposed limits. Graffiti on public murals, known as "bombing", is a particularly heated topic.

"We struggle to make people understand it's an art form, but when we paint on someone's mural, how can anyone accept us when we're destroying art?," said Besk.

Others, like Anger, say there will always be unethical behavior. "It's called graffiti. We don't ask permission for what we do," he said.

For some. mom and pop stores are out of bounds while large stores are fair game. But Relic is firm about where he draws the line.

"I'll never write on a church because my art ain't bigger than God," he said.