Before the internet, before hashtags, and way before anyone called street art “urban contemporary,” there was Crayone—out in San Francisco, a kid with a spray can and a big vision.
He didn’t stumble into graffiti—he danced his way into it. Back when Hip-Hop first hit the Bay and flicks like Style Wars and Wild Style lit up young imaginations, Crayone was b-boying under the name “SpaceGhost.” But the rhythm moved from his feet to his fingers, and just like that, he dropped the dance floor for the walls.
Crayone wasn’t just tagging his name; he was shaping a legacy. By the time he co-founded TWS (Together With Style)—the Bay Area’s first official graffiti collective—he had already become a name people were watching. TWS wasn’t just another crew. They were a movement: fine artists, designers, illustrators, and straight-up style architects blending SF flavor with Euro finesse.
While others copied New York’s style guides, Crayone flipped the script. His pieces bent letters into bold new forms, painting not just names, but concepts—abstract, powerful, and unshakably original. At a time when most graffiti was flat and cartoonish, Crayone’s walls were alive: swirling with color, motion, and soul.
In 1988, his work was immortalized in SprayCan Art, the global graffiti bible, putting the Bay on the international radar. Crayone was only 19—and already taking mural commissions, building a portfolio that mixed raw street energy with a gallery-level finesse.
He didn’t stop there. Crayone was the first West Coast graffiti artist to score a solo gallery show in Palo Alto. His pieces would later hang in the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, MoMA Los Angeles, and the Oakland Museum of California. His name? Cemented in books like The History of American Graffiti, Freight Train Graffiti, Graffito, and more.
But the streets were always home. Crayone’s murals lit up neighborhoods with messages of unity, power, and hope. One standout: the Dharma House mural at Mission and 22nd. Featuring icons like MLK Jr., Cesar Chavez, and Gandhi, it wasn’t just a wall—it was a prayer in paint.
In a time when some were still questioning whether graffiti was really art, Crayone proved it could be revolutionary.
His grind didn’t stop at the can. From '89 to the early 2000s, Crayone picked up degrees in graphic and fine art, worked fish canneries in Alaska, and rode the wave into the digital era—designing sites for hip-hop networks before most folks even had email.
Still, his hand never left the wall.
From 1999 to 2011, he split time between art directing and mural-making. Then came a left turn most wouldn't see coming: firefighting. He’d taken the SFFD test twice back in the day, but didn’t pass. Years later, he circled back, hit the books, aced fire science classes, and got his EMT license. By 2016, Crayone wasn’t just saving the culture—he was saving lives.
Through it all, he mentored the next wave—turning young taggers into muralists through programs like Precita Eyes. Always giving game, always giving back.
Today, Crayone lives the dual life: firefighter by trade, artist by soul. He’s painting murals that uplift, designing messages that hit, and holding down communities with brushstrokes and bravery.
From rooftops to galleries, from underground to official, Crayone’s journey proves one truth: Graffiti ain’t just art. It’s a lifestyle. It’s a voice. It’s a revolution.