A silent glance
I want to write many notes about the art that surrounds us, no matter the city, town, village, or last corner of the world where you live. I decided to start little voyages in my own city, not to museums or galleries —why should I go to those infernal places that have rejected me with fire and chants beyond belief? Those tiny expeditions will happen not far from my studio, within a 1.5-mile (around 2 km) range from my studio.
The goal is to let myself find unintentional art in the everyday places and streets and parks and churches and houses and coffee shops and supermarkets and Mexican popular markets and all that the exterior has to offer to my eye, so I can write about it, with the only purpose of sharing it with you as a piece that I consider every day’s art.
I just want to clarify something before I start with the first one: I’ll truly search for beautiful pieces ignored by the peasants, the little things hidden in plain sight, in broad daylight.
So let us begin.
For almost 20 years, I’ve crossed paths with an effortfully made graffiti that has a central motif, of course, an eye. It’s on a forgotten stretch of stoned-paved mini street, a few steps from me. Surprisingly, that vandalism hasn’t been vandalized in all these years; it has remained since the first day I saw it.
I’m confident that’s not the best one, not after the bunch of marvels I’ve seen in street art, but it undoubtedly is one of the most silent and unbreakable examples of strength to remain untouchable through time.
Powerful and undefeated, just like the gaze of art!
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