Everybody knows springtime in the District means blossoms and baseball. But it also means an increasingly busy schedule for the city’s graffiti-removal crews, which have seen a quadrupling of cleanup orders since 2010.
While most residents are hunkering down in their homes during the cold winter months, an invisible legion — respected by some as artists and decried by others as vandals — takes to back alleys, rooftops and bridges armed with spray-paint cans, leaving a trail of signatures, symbols and scribbles across the city to be scrubbed when warm weather arrives.
Lately, the problem seems to be growing. In the past three years, the numbers of graffiti cleanups has soared — from 1,780 in 2010 to 6,155 in 2011 and 8,571 last year.
Exactly why more graffiti seems to be popping up in the city is hard to pin down, but Nancee Lyons, a spokeswoman for the D.C. Department of Public Works, points to an increase in development.
“That means a lot more canvases for people,” said Ms. Lyons, whose agency oversees the graffiti-removal crew. “A lot of these buildings replace other buildings, which make it more attractive.”
Today’s graffiti taggers are older teenagers and young adults, Ms. Lyons said. And, oddly enough, many of them come from the suburbs.
“There are more reasons to come into D.C. now than five years ago,” she said. “There’s more people traveling corridors. It’s becoming more of a graffiti destination because of the economic boom.”
On a recent gray morning, a three-man abatement crew pulled its trucks into a narrow alley behind a gutted U Street apartment building. On one side, large dumpsters were backed by a chain-link fence. A long wall ran parallel, segmented into brick and concrete blocks that were stained where someone had sprayed black, white and red paint in disappointingly mundane and nearly indecipherable script.
The city employs six people, including a supervisor, who remove graffiti along with two trucks for paint and a truck that removes posters illegally pasted on signs and walls.
Armed with a plastic capsule that resembled a propane tank and a hose that dispensed a heady cleaning liquid, 42-year-old Sean Thomas went to work drizzling the potent — but environmentally friendly — cleaner along the wall.
“Sometimes it’s in places we can’t get to. It’s like, ‘How did they get up there without a bucket truck?’” he said. “It’s an example for the neighborhood that even if you don’t own the buildings, it’s showing you are in the neighborhood.”
Mr. Thomas is part of the crew overseen by Ace Broadus, a tall 34-year-old man with a young face and a quiet voice. He’s been removing graffiti for 10 years.
“There’s so much graffiti in D.C.,” he said. “It’s like a wildfire. It seems like it hasn’t died down.”
Why so much of the city is covered in graffiti, even Mr. Broadus can’t say, though he’s asked the occasional “tagger” who’s come out to do community service with the crew. The answers are as varied as the designs.
“A lot of them say they’re expressing their artwork, some is gang related,” he said.