In NYC, the galleries of the streets are wide open

Let’s face it: It can be hard to see beauty in constant corona quarantine. We’re all trying to inject something new into our groundhog-day-like existence. We crave distraction, light, connection, and discovery.

So for the past week or so, I’ve switched gears. I turned off Netflix, trashed the experimental vegan banana bread recipe, and started looking outward again. I’ve been putting on my mask, leaving my apartment, and embarking on long walks (dubbed treasure hunts in my brain).  I’m opening my eyes wider (physically and metaphorically), looking “beyond the mask,” and noticing things that are more visible now in the city’s standstill. 

At first it was depressing. Stores closed, restaurants meekly serving distance takeout, and lots of fearful eyes. But one day in the East Village I glimpsed a mural of a bird painted in a small park. Well over ten feet tall, it is realistically rendered in blacks, whites and grays, with every intricate feather emitting an iridescent sheen in the sunlight. Its spirit took over the space around it, alive yet serene. The way I look at my city shifted 180º at that moment, and I was determined to capture as many street art treasures as I could.

For days I walked the streets with no preordained direction, peeking into alleys, looking up, down, left, and right. And I found tons of street-art treasures—remarkably hidden in alleys, behind dumpsters, on buildings, fire escapes, sidewalks, trucks, roofs, and hidden in cracks and crevices. The absence of honking cars, distracted pedestrians, and busy storefronts revealed fresh spaces where expressive gems lurked. 

The Met, the Guggenheim, and the Museum of Modern Art may be closed, but if they had been open, I’m not sure I would’ve discovered this outside art, much of it born from social or political unrest.  I see it now, exhibited in the ultimate urban galleries during this current climate of great unknowns, grief, and fear. It seems fitting that the voices of the work are very loud right now.

I didn’t set out as a photographer to document or critique street art, and that contributed to the sense of freedom my walks brought me. I felt so lucky (and a little bit high on life) every time I stumbled upon another image. I whipped out my iphone and snapped subpar pictures, feeling more connected to the spirit of the city than I have in a very long time. Sometimes I laughed out loud. Often I gazed in amazement. What a gift it is being in NYC during COVID-19, I heard myself whisper. 

Forgive the blurriness, the odd angles, and the weird lighting in the slideshow. This is how I captured what I found, and I want to share it with you.

And wherever you are, I urge you to get out and look a little more carefully at where you live. It doesn’t matter if you are in an urban, rural, or suburban area. There is beauty, art, and grace I guarantee you’ve never noticed. 

 Our country is on pause, but it won’t last forever. So before the people, the cars, and the chaos resume and life gets crowded again, go out and grab some of your own images and share with the rest of us!

============================================================================= 

Sara Wofford is a contributing writer for Creageless, focusing on all things fashion, arts, and culture. She works freelance from her hometown of NYC, where she can be found tapping into the trends smart, savvy, stylish readers want.