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Yesterday, Matt came with me to the Divine Lorraine to help me film/stencil/fight off crack heads. He came over around 2, so I could have company while cutting out the stencil of Divine on the body of Jesus. (Of course, wanting a larger stencil but only having cardboard, I stupidly forgot how much I hate cardboard as a medium.) This abandoned hotel is two subway stops away, but eff paying for that, so we walked. To note, we saw a hot pink stretch Hummer on the way there. A garish contrast to the dilapidated elegance we were about to see. After circling the building for a way in, we discovered a wrenched open door that required a bit of maneuvering to get in. Being my lithe-self, I managed it pretty easily, but Matt is tall and geometric and almost got stuck. The door that we entered through was immediately adjacent to the basement, so that was our first, horrifying stop. While it would probably would have been perfectly quaint if well lit, the flashlight we brought was not sufficient to dispel my slight fears of humanoid, Quarantine-esque mutants. Not wanting to carry around my stencil for the rest of our exploration, I sprayed it near the doorway and abandoned the cardboard to its fate. The first floor still retained a lot of elegance. While it was also the most trash-bedecked, there was evidence of crown molding and columns, the two pink marble staircases arch up on the North and South sides of the building. For the entirety of our adventure, we elected to use the South side staircase, and for good measure, as we later found out. Once we were ready to start heading upstairs, I took a moment to film some of the original architecture while Matt investigated some other section. Once I put down the camera, I noticed my shadow was cast unusually dark across the room. I turned to my right as Matt entered the room and noticed my shadow hadn't moved. Within that very short, very terrifying moment, my shadow vanished out of sight. Less than a moment later, I was calm again, realizing it was just the benevolent resident homeless person. He told us it was fine if we took pictures, though that moment of horror was perhaps influenced by my thoughts of basement dwelling creatures. Every floor held new works of graffiti. There were more interesting things on the outer balconies, but as it got colder and darker, we more hurriedly took to the stairs rather than leisurely looking at bad tags and mediocre pieces. It was interesting to note that there was not a single other piece of stencil work in the building. While I recognize it's mostly a white thing, I thought it would be more prolific. Finally, we reached the top floor, home to an enormous atrium. I went out onto the balcony and took pictures of the city. It didn't take long for us to find roof access, the first time I'd roof'd it in Philadelphia. It was unbelievable. I was more fearless than Matt, but that also came with me almost stumbling backwards on a very slanted eave. There was more excellent graffiti on the roof than there had been anywhere else thus far. I freehanded a mark for myself, but Matt and I agreed to come back when he had planned out something for him to write. Part of it came with sadness and being alive and higher than the rooftops and losing the feeling of something important, but I wrote "invincible summer" and meant it.
Yesterday, Matt came with me to the Divine Lorraine to help me film/stencil/fight off crack heads. He came over around 2, so I could have company while cutting out the stencil of Divine on the body of Jesus. (Of course, wanting a larger stencil but only having cardboard, I stupidly forgot how much I hate cardboard as a medium.) This abandoned hotel is two subway stops away, but eff paying for that, so we walked. To note, we saw a hot pink stretch Hummer on the way there. A garish contrast to the dilapidated elegance we were about to see. After circling the building for a way in, we discovered a wrenched open door that required a bit of maneuvering to get in. Being my lithe-self, I managed it pretty easily, but Matt is tall and geometric and almost got stuck. The door that we entered through was immediately adjacent to the basement, so that was our first, horrifying stop. While it would probably would have been perfectly quaint if well lit, the flashlight we brought was not sufficient to dispel my slight fears of humanoid, Quarantine-esque mutants. Not wanting to carry around my stencil for the rest of our exploration, I sprayed it near the doorway and abandoned the cardboard to its fate. The first floor still retained a lot of elegance. While it was also the most trash-bedecked, there was evidence of crown molding and columns, the two pink marble staircases arch up on the North and South sides of the building. For the entirety of our adventure, we elected to use the South side staircase, and for good measure, as we later found out. Once we were ready to start heading upstairs, I took a moment to film some of the original architecture while Matt investigated some other section. Once I put down the camera, I noticed my shadow was cast unusually dark across the room. I turned to my right as Matt entered the room and noticed my shadow hadn't moved. Within that very short, very terrifying moment, my shadow vanished out of sight. Less than a moment later, I was calm again, realizing it was just the benevolent resident homeless person. He told us it was fine if we took pictures, though that moment of horror was perhaps influenced by my thoughts of basement dwelling creatures. Every floor held new works of graffiti. There were more interesting things on the outer balconies, but as it got colder and darker, we more hurriedly took to the stairs rather than leisurely looking at bad tags and mediocre pieces. It was interesting to note that there was not a single other piece of stencil work in the building. While I recognize it's mostly a white thing, I thought it would be more prolific. Finally, we reached the top floor, home to an enormous atrium. I went out onto the balcony and took pictures of the city. It didn't take long for us to find roof access, the first time I'd roof'd it in Philadelphia. It was unbelievable. I was more fearless than Matt, but that also came with me almost stumbling backwards on a very slanted eave. There was more excellent graffiti on the roof than there had been anywhere else thus far. I freehanded a mark for myself, but Matt and I agreed to come back when he had planned out something for him to write. Part of it came with sadness and being alive and higher than the rooftops and losing the feeling of something important, but I wrote "invincible summer" and meant it.
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