Fitzroy, project street branding, each wall a logo neatly placed or scrawled. I am here, hear me shout my slogan at you spring. Timeless rites of consumer passage. I have art to sell. I saw your name on that last wall and that one over there. I want to call this writing, contemporary art but we grew up, you and I, on a diet of soft art, decaffeinated poetry and writings on walls of despots and demons. Vexta sister you will go on to sell coke and nike and your youthful art will make you edgy in the corporate boardroom. What happens when we are all so desperate to make our mark that we scream our jingles out bus windows and our conversations are ad breaks between the marketing campaigns and personal product placements. i am a hypocrite a cynic a crank. But if I wanted to know your name, I would ask you.