What Graffiti Does to a City (and Whether It's Really Vandalism)

Every city has graffiti. Sometimes it’s a colorful mural covering a blank wall, other times it’s a scribbled tag on a closed shop door. As an urban planner, I see graffiti almost daily. Some of it makes me stop and think. Some of it frustrates me. But it always makes me ask: what is graffiti doing to the city—and what are we doing about it?

Graffiti is a loaded subject. For decades, it’s been debated in planning meetings, city council halls, design studios, and public forums. Some people call it art. Others label it as vandalism. Many see both sides. And from the perspective of architects, urban planners, and designers, it’s not just a visual question—it’s a spatial one. It affects how we shape the city, and how people experience it.

What Graffiti Does to Public Space

Graffiti changes how space feels. A building façade with bold, bright art might feel vibrant and alive. A train station tagged with rushed scrawls might feel uncared for. A narrow alley filled with layers of stickers and spray paint might feel raw and expressive—or dangerous and chaotic.

Urban designers know that the look and feel of a space affects how people use it. Graffiti can make a space feel claimed, alive, political, or unsafe. It can tell stories that don’t fit in official signage or polished marketing campaigns. In neighborhoods that are often overlooked, graffiti is sometimes the only visible signal of cultural identity.

Architects often wrestle with how buildings invite or reject this kind of public expression. A blank concrete wall invites tagging. A textured, layered, or highly-designed façade might discourage it—or become a canvas. This raises a difficult question: are we building cities that encourage public expression, or cities that suppress it?

Graffiti as a Design Challenge (and Opportunity)

Urban designers and planners often have to balance competing needs. Residents want safe, clean spaces. But those same spaces also need to feel human, lived-in, and open to change.

Some cities treat graffiti as a maintenance issue. Remove it quickly, discourage it from reappearing. But others have started thinking differently. In places like Berlin, Lisbon, and parts of South America, graffiti has been embraced—not just tolerated. It has become part of the identity of a place. Tourists travel to see it. Locals take pride in it.

Architects in these cities sometimes work with graffiti artists during the design process. Walls are designed to include large murals. Building materials are chosen to age gracefully with markings. Public spaces are planned with \"free walls\" or graffiti parks—areas where people can paint legally.

This is not just about aesthetics. It’s about ownership and voice. When people feel connected to their environment, they take better care of it. Graffiti, while messy and unpredictable, is sometimes a sign that people are actively engaging with space.

Vandalism, Art, or Something In Between?

Many architects and planners agree that graffiti exists on a spectrum.

At one end, there is destruction—damaging private or historic property, making spaces feel unsafe, or creating constant cleanup costs. At the other end, there is community-driven art—murals that celebrate heritage, respond to politics, or give identity to a place.

In between, there’s a grey area. Tags from local crews, stickers from traveling artists, stencil art that appears overnight. These may not be legal. But they are expressions of life in the city. They show movement, connection, frustration, play, and protest.

In many cases, what’s seen as vandalism by one person is seen as expression by another. A designer might see a wall as ruined, while a youth growing up in the neighborhood sees it as speaking their truth. This gap in perception is something urban planners must take seriously.

Graffiti and Inequality in the City

Graffiti is not just about style. It’s often about voice. And like many aspects of urban life, it’s shaped by inequality.

Who gets to paint? Who gets punished? Who decides what counts as art?

In wealthier neighborhoods, a mural by a well-known street artist might be seen as an asset. In lower-income areas, a teenager's tag might be labeled criminal—even when the messages are similar. This reveals a deeper issue: cities often apply different standards depending on who is speaking.

Urban planners have a role in this. We help decide where public money goes, how spaces are maintained, and which voices are included in the design process. If we want cities to be fair, we need to ask: are we creating space for real expression—or only for the kind that fits into a gallery?

How Designers Can Respond

Instead of asking whether graffiti is good or bad, architects and designers might ask more helpful questions:

• What kind of messages are showing up in public space?
• Who is making them—and who are they for?
• Are we leaving room for citizens to express themselves?
• How can we design walls, corridors, underpasses, or plazas that respond to local creativity without becoming targets for harmful or offensive content?

Some responses are simple. Offer legal graffiti walls. Invite local artists into planning processes. Celebrate the murals that mean something to the community. Other responses are harder. It may require challenging property norms, working through complex histories, or dealing with rapidly changing neighborhoods.

But every act of listening is a step forward. Every mural that is protected, rather than erased, is a step toward a more inclusive city.

A Living City Is Not Always a Clean One

Modernism taught us to value clean lines, blank walls, and strict order. But many of today’s most beloved urban spaces are layered, imperfect, and expressive. They show signs of life. Of time passing. Of people claiming space, even without permission.

Graffiti is one of those signs. It can be aggressive or poetic. It can be destructive or creative. It depends on who’s writing, where, and why. But in all cases, it tells us something: people are still speaking. Still reacting. Still shaping their surroundings.

If we’re willing to listen—really listen—we might design cities that not only look good, but feel alive.

Final Reflections

As architects and urban planners, we’re trained to think in lines and systems. But graffiti reminds us that cities aren’t just drawn. They’re lived in. Messy, loud, sometimes uncomfortable—but also full of energy and meaning.

We don’t need to romanticize every tag. But we also shouldn’t erase them without thought. Graffiti is a mirror. It shows us what’s happening on the ground, not just what’s written in the plans.

Maybe our job isn’t to silence that voice. Maybe it’s to design in dialogue with it.