I am always struck by the art that is folded into the skin of cities.
I remember meandering in Rome, close to the botanical gardens, and seeing so much art etched on walls, on doors...some tiny and others grand and looming. It seemed they were gathered to observe us, instead of us milling about marvelling at them.
Today, even though I must have walked this way to work a hundred times, for the very first time, I noticed the face of a girl that is part of a wall on rue de Sèvres. It is as if she found her way out of it, peeling and chipping her way through. It takes up more than half the side of the building, yet I did not notice it until this morning. It is amazing what we don't see until it is time for us to do so; until we open our eyes in different ways.
I love cities infused with art - sculptures, frescos, little pieces of beauty placed randomly around the city, like candy. Cities like Lyon, Lucca, and Montreal.
Public art is a form of democracy. It is as much for those who sleep under the statues as for those who rush past it to their high-powered posts.
It is for us all.
I can't wait to discover what else I'm not seeing.