I live in a city covered in street art. Ever since I started taking thousands of pictures on my long walks through different neighborhoods, I’ve come to recognize the various forms of public art that exist here: the crap people write on walls whilst drunk, the privately commissioned murals decking the sides of lofty brick buildings, the tags of dreamer graffitists, and the generally ephemeral sketches of great artists and thinkers. Art fitting these categories exists all around, side-by-side and, at times, overlapping and overwhelming each other. Here are a handful of the pieces I’ve come across:
Windows in Soho
A child’s memorial in Hamilton Heights
That’s what they all say. Banksy in Chelsea.
A reminder outside of a bottled tea factory in the most desolate space between Dumbo and Vinegar Hill.
Writing on the wall in a mysterious alley.