The Pickup's Culture coverage is brought to you by Tulsa Artists' Coalition Gallery, 40 Years of Empowering Tulsa Artists. Visit TAC Gallery to see American Highway Revisited by VC Torneden and Melinda Harvey Green, June 5 – 27, 2026.
When the first graffiti tag appeared on the back fence of Trueson Daugherty’s Florence Park home, he wasn’t stoked. The vandalism didn’t bother him, but rather the quality of the artwork. “I just didn’t like it,” he said.
Still, instead of reacting like a Karen—involving the neighborhood association, contacting law enforcement, or painting over it himself—he responded like a Trueson. “As somebody who loves conceptual art, I was like, well, this is street art,” he said. “Even if it's bad, it's still street art, and that was kind of interesting to me.”
Daugherty posted a video to his modest following on Facebook and Instagram, not explicitly inviting someone to cover the initial tag (in that case it would be a mural, not graffiti), but sending out a tacit signal. While the code of graffiti artists generally frowns upon covering up one another’s work, it’s not unheard of, especially if artists are beefing.
Sure enough, some weeks later a new tag appeared on Daugherty’s fence. Another video followed, then another tag, and soon enough the wall became an evolving battleground for local practitioners identified only by their signatures: Steve, Lover, Minecraft Chicken Jockey.