How would you spend a cold December morning in New York City, when the biting wind sears your face and a blinding sunshine tears up your eyes, the numbness in your fingers softened only by hand warmers shoved deep in your pockets?
I spent it capturing street art in Brooklyn, walking along the windswept coastal Red Hook district, the splashes of color and emotion and statement calling to me, forcing my frigid fingers to function in spite of themselves.
There’s something about street art that has attracted me since it first began developing as an art form. Walking around Red Hook on a bright winter morning was the best way to capture this kind of art. It spells freedom, breaking out of accepted moulds. It is temporary, more about living in the day, because it can be painted over in an instant, defaced, or enhanced.
Anything goes – until it is gone. You can’t take it with you. Or exhibit it. But you can build a community around it and make a statement with it.
What do you think – was the effort worth it?
There was so much to see I stopped feeling the cold.