The Graphic Arts High School is located in the heart of the city, close to a subway station. Access is surprisingly easy. But the place quickly becomes dangerous. It’s left to its own devices.
Away from the noise, the school forms an oasis of calm in the city. It’s easy to understand why so many artists have come to leave their mark on the white walls.
Inside, the rooms are empty. Everything seems to have disappeared except for the graffiti covering every surface, from the floor to the window frames. Bright colors, quick strokes, and improvised patterns create a raw gallery open to all where signatures overlap without rhyme or reason.
The midday light streams through the gaping openings, casting sharp beams of light through the dust. It briefly illuminates the deserted rooms, breathing life back into the space.
In the courtyard, the old soccer field recalls the site’s original purpose, adding a touch of nostalgia.
Before leaving, I pause for a moment. The atmosphere is calm and almost studious, as if the building still retains some of its energy. The sounds of the city echo in the distance, but here, only my footsteps disturb the silence. Exploring it feels like visiting an abandoned art gallery where each wall tells the story of an anonymous artist’s passage.
