Almost no dialog -- a portait of a young, alienated, gay artist obsessed with his graffiti, and his brief love affair with a fellow, less fervent, artist. While I felt empathy with the youth, I also felt the futility. When does his expressive passion become pathological? The director suggests that he seeks fame and an acknowledgment of self worth, but by whom? His work and tags mostly are in infrequently visited sites, and, to most viewers, are vandalism. Is that the point?
A nitpick, but nevertheles a bothersome detail. How does a street person with no money and few friends maintain such a professionally looking haircut? I guess our emphathy for the character depends upon how conventionally well groomed and good-looking he is? And he seems to have but one facial expression -- extreme melancholy -- even when in the passion of sex.