Getting Up
Fashion Moda: A Night in the Bronx
In 1980, the Bronx was still burning, but we were creating something out of the ashes. The city was in a decline—factories had closed, jobs were scarce, and entire neighborhoods abandoned to fend for themselves. The South Bronx, my home, was at the epicenter of this collapse. Burned out buildings lined the streets, crime was rampant, and media painted our borough as a danger zone. Yet, amidst the chaos, culture was brewing. Urban life was transforming into Hip-hop and finding its voice, graffiti delivered message on its subways, walls and mailboxes and we—the writers—were discovering the power of youth in our circles close to home.
That year, Crash and Stefan Eins put together a show at Fashion Moda, a cultural space on 147th Street and 3rd Avenue. Fashion Moda wasn’t just a gallery; it was a beacon for the arts in a neighborhood most people ignored. This wasn’t SoHo’s polished art scene. This was raw, loud, and unapologetically The Bronx.
I remember walking into the opening night with a mix of anticipation and pride. The place was packed, a mix of downtown art types and graff writers from all over the city. The energy was electric. Inside, the exhibit was laid out in a way that surprised me. Each piece had its own space, surrounded by high ceilings that gave the gallery an almost SoHo feel—but this was still the South Bronx. You could feel the grit under your feet, the hum of the streets outside, as sirens filled the air and neighborhood residents hustled up and down the sidewalks making their way important.
The artwork spoke volumes. Pieces by Crash, Kel139, Lady Pink, Lee, Zephyr, Futura 2000, A-One, Koor, Toxic and other writers it showcased how graffiti was evolving. This wasn’t just about bombing trains or tagging rooftops anymore. We were pushing the boundaries, showing our work wasn’t vandalism but an emerging, vital art form. Each piece had a small write-up about the artist, which was rare. Usually, we were anonymous, our work seen but our names hidden behind nicknames and legends. Here, we were stepping into the light.
But it wasn’t just the art inside that made the night memorable, it was a community gathering around to support each other. The people were just as much a part of the scene. I stepped outside for some air—it was hot and packed in there with the crowd—and ran into Lady Pink, her sister Lali, Lady Heart, DEL TF5 (rest in peace), and my brother MARE139. The sidewalk became its own gallery as writers started pulling out markers and tagging whatever they could. DEL handed me a black Pilot marker, and I hit up a panel that had a giant rat print on it. That panel became a masterpiece in its own right by the end of the night, covered in tags from everyone who was there. It was like the streets had taken over the gallery.
When the exhibit wrapped up for the night, DEL, Brooks 119—who also wrote as Dude7—and I decided to hit a local layup. The trains were still our true canvas, and we weren’t about to let the night end without leaving our mark. The layup wasn’t far, tucked away in a spot where we knew the trains would sit for hours, untouched.
As we got up on the train layup, the sounds of the Bronx were all around us—police sirens in the distance, the rumble of a train on another track, the occasional shout from someone walking past. This was a reality we lived in. The city was on edge. The South Bronx was seen as a war zone, but we saw it as a playground, a canvas, a home. The culture wars were real—people didn’t understand us, didn’t see what we were building. But that night at Fashion Moda, and later in the layup, we weren’t just writers or vandals. We were artists, storytellers, historians of a city that was trying to forget us.
Looking back, that night feels like a turning point. It was one of those moments when you realize something bigger is happening, even if you don’t know what it is yet. Fashion Moda wasn’t just a gallery, and that train wasn’t just a train. They were symbols of resilience, creativity, and defiance. In a city that wanted to erase us, we found a way to make ourselves unforgettable.
We are here.
