It’s all about the rush. No other feeling compares to it. It’s vulnerable, it’s creative, it’s risky and it’s addictive. As he turns his back to the street with a well-thought-out plan of what color and design to use, he sprays his tentacle-esque style of lettering onto a mid-city billboard. It could go sideways at any second. Pedestrians and drivers roam the area below, and while they are most likely unaware, they’re still a concern. He does it anyway — the itch must be scratched.
“When I talk about this shit, it feels so fucking silly because it doesn’t become real until you do it. If you wanna really understand it better, go out and do it yourself and see what it feels like. After a while, you get kinda calloused to that feeling and you need more,” explains Tenser. “A little tag doesn’t mean anything anymore. It’s not gonna get you off. Before you know it, the only thing that satisfies that itch is climbing a billboard or running across the freeway. It’s like a drug and as your tolerance gets stronger you need more risky things.”
Tenser, a Los Angeles native and graf writer, finds solace in graffiti. He started out when he was young, — only 14 — homeless and on heroin. With a knack for art, he found that getting up was the only thing that helped ground him and realize his existence. The direct act of painting something on a wall helped him make an impact on his surroundings. Within this creative outlet, he did more than just express himself; he found something to belong to.
“It was something that helped my ego and sense of self stay afloat. I found recognition and a community in graffiti. A lot of people don’t recognize what it actually does for your life outside of just making pretty pictures or just being some hardcore person. It soothes a lot of inner things that get overlooked in early childhood development,” said Tenser.
Once he got involved in this scene, he began developing a style that combines bold and sharp lettering with fast-moving lines to break up the dramatic shapes. He usually spells out TENSER or other phrases in big pieces that are intentionally intricate and rather difficult to decipher. This eye-catching style of depicting movement and lettering simultaneously is something he started as a teen and has mastered its evolution over the years.
“I mean, what am I really doing? Like, I’m bending letters and letters aren’t real. They’re just little symbols,” he starts and stops himself, “it’s whatever. I’m getting all hoo hoo again.”
Once getting settled into this culture and comfortable with his dramatic style, he found himself utilizing this practice as an outlet, thriving off its provided rush and building an ego that helped his self-esteem.
“The ego part can get a bit ugly sometimes. When I was just starting, meeting these well-known painters with larger-than-life personas was a rush in itself. You only see their paintings, you don’t know who they are and the funny thing is once you actually meet them or even when people meet me, younger kids are like tenser ‘You’re a fucking legend.’ But, I’m just some fucking dude. I’m nothing special,” explains Tenser.
He even goes as far to express that there are two versions of each graf writer. “There’s one [version] that just goes to goes to work or doesn’t and is just a fucking bum. And then [the other version is] what everybody else sees, which is an untouchable persona when you reach a certain point.”
Between grappling with these different perceptions of graffiti artists, he has taken it upon himself to start his own crew, LTS. In graffiti culture, there have been crews since its origin in 1970s New York. These crews come together to paint and depending on who makes up the crew and what they stand for, they are faced with different levels of respect.
“I don’t even know if I wanna say support each other, but we’re all pushing something bigger than just ourselves. Mine is called LTS, and it stands for a bunch of different shapes. So, it could be LA Tough Sport or something like Lining The Stars or whatever fucking silly shit people come up with,” said Tenser.
Whether he’s with his crew or on his own, he finds himself painting in Mid-city more than anywhere else. Bordering the 10 freeway in central LA, the area is known for its mix of residential areas, art museums and trendy eateries. Whenever he plans to go out to paint, it isn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision, but rather an entirely planned-out strategic plot. Typically two or three times a month, he’ll pick a spot and plan every outcome. He’ll first figure out how to access it, come up with a quick getaway in case something goes wrong and start to brainstorm what kind of piece he wants to put there and what colors he will use.
“I’m of the breed that isn’t just gonna go out and scribble a whole bunch throughout the city. I always have a full plan. I know exactly what I’m doing and everything is laid out. It’s one big project. It’s not frivolous,” said Tenser. Other graf writers will go out and impulsively write on everything they can — where the sheer quantity is impressive. But in Mid-City, Tenser has the space to paint whatever he wills into existence.
“Mid-City is a little less saturated especially compared to Downtown. You go Downtown and talk about being a fucking dime a dozen. You can’t stand out,” said Tenser.
Even though he is currently focused on one neighborhood, he understands why the city has become a magnet for this kind of art.
“It has to do with the landscape. There’s a lot of ground to cover. And the police aren’t as concerned anymore. In some cities like New York, they are hyper-vigilant so most of the work is bubble letters and quick shit. In LA, they’re not that present, so you can spend a lot of time on something,” said Tenser.
The lack of policing and the endless stretches of concrete allow graf writers to stick to themselves and develop their own unique LA style.
“The [LA] style goes back to the prominence of gang culture when graffiti first started here. If you look at, old gang graffiti, it’s very wicked looking and today LA is like that still. It’s wicked, sharp, drippy and kinda mean-monster looking.”
Tenser’s style fits seamlessly into what he dubs the city’s aesthetic, but he has chosen for this passion to remain a hobby. Declining to share his full-time occupation, he admits he gets commissioned to do work in various areas of the art world. He frequently does large-scale portraits and murals for corporations like Amazon who want to bring the “street art vibe” into their offices.
“There’s really good money if you can position yourself right. I mean, I’ll fucking do it [a sponsored mural] if it’s for a good amount of money. I did this job for Blink 182. Right? It’s super lame. I don’t give a shit and I don’t put my name on it, but I can do it,” said Tenser. “I have no problem doing commercial stuff, because if you’re gonna pay me $10,000 to do it, yes. I will do it. I’ll take the money and run. You’re just not gonna see me adding it to my portfolio.”
He’s even tested the water with what he calls a “cool person gallery.” This past October he debuted a solo show entitled “Three Halves” at the Thinkspace Gallery. The show displayed his portrait style of realistic gray-scale figures — juxtaposing his more wild graffiti style.
“I’ve had my own struggle with street art in the gallery space, but at a certain point, I think it’s just a natural evolution,” said Tenser.
He explains that some people don’t have skills in art beyond their lettering. As a beginner artist, he made sure to practice his classical figure drawing at the same time he was painting the streets at night.
“I feel lucky I put just as much attention to studio work as I did with stuff in the streets. People will talk poorly about it [street art in the gallery space]. But I try to keep it balanced. I had a show, and then I also hit a billboard the same week,” confesses Tenser.
Whether he’s plotting to hit up a billboard on Pico Boulevard or working on a paid mural for a company, Tenser has followed his love for graffiti in every direction it could go in.
“Am I ever gonna fully stop? Probably not. But I’m definitely not doing it like I did when I was 22,” said Tenser.