There comes a time when the doings of street culture succeed in ruffling whiskers in rarefied art circles. I am tempted to believe we have reached that crossroad a-gain. While traveling up the pleasant gradient of Ho Plaza, my vision was seared by a splash of brilliant acrylic blue. Dazzled, I bent down and waddled nearer, squinting: The baby blue, perfectly complemented by a sedate orange, spelled out, with high visibility, the words, “The Hangovers.” But these colors, lively as they were, were not acrylic at all: They were chalk colors. “I would like to hang out with the artist who spilt genius onto this Ho,” I thought. “You wag,” I thought, furthermore.