<p>Graffiti and allied parietal markings have colored the urban atmosphere for millennia but underwent an interesting inflection in the middle of the twentieth century with the simultaneous emergence of effective technologies for delivering aerosolized paint from a compact cannister and permanent ink with a felt-tip marker. Graffiti subsequently exploded in popularity, spawning socially and aesthetically diverse genres and eventually attracting the interest of contemporary archaeologists. Crew-based graffiti writers operate almost everywhere, projecting an open-ended, interstitial discourse onto the built environment, but produce exceptionally remarkable effects in marginal places on the verge of archaeological envelopment. Graffiti tinctures the atmosphere of such places, helping give rise to distinctive structures of feeling that channel and reproduce the affective dispositions of the youth and others that frequent them. The abandoned Cold War military facility of Red Cliff, outside St. John’s, Newfoundland, emerged as an important local venue for graffiti writing in recent years, and encompasses a number of atmospherically resonant settings that exemplify this process. The striking case of a graffiti-filled underground cistern, in particular, illustrates the affective availability of this sort of marginal ruin.</p>