During the pandemic there was a sign outside a restaurant that said, " The vwhole world is short-staffed. Be kind to those who showed up." It has been my prayer whenever I'm on hold, when the line is long, or patience is running thin.
I saw embroidered into the wrapping around the construction staging at the National Museum of Women in the Arts a statement of commitment, seemingly against all odds:
AS LONG AS
GENERATIONS CHANGE
BUT OUR STRUGGLES
STAY THE SAME,
I WILL BE A FEMINIST
Four stories tall and as wide as the building. Red stitching on the grey wrapping. Big and broad across New York Avenue.
There’s a writing on a wall that’s my wallpaper lol. It says “I hope nothing haunts you too long”. My complicated relationship with guilt from religion and reconciling my sexuality often makes my mistakes haunt me more than they should. But that writing reminds me to rob my pain of that power and just keep going. The things that haunt me now inform me instead but they don’t keep me prisoner.
Your poignant reflection reminded me of the notion of ‘Original Blessing’ popularized by theologian Matthew Fox as opposed to the traditional notion of Original Sin, whereby he reclaims the inherent goodness of creation (including us human beings). A movement away from guilt and inferiority towards affirmation and celebration of life and humanity. Thank you, Rara.
I want to thank you for the master class on Saturday in @Maya C Popa’s Conscious Writers Collective. It was brilliant and inspiring. Much gratitude as well for this article. I live in the state of Minnesota, not far from the intersection where George Floyd was murdered. It is now called George Floyd Square. I drive through it occasionally, but only when I need to get to a different place. It’s unbearably sad. “Justice” is written on one wall. I don’t think we’re there yet.
I used to work in downtown Bogota and I still remember a message that was stenciled in a few walls by a famous graffiti artist "Este es un mensaje para la gente guapa: Los feos somos más" (This is a message for handsome people: We, the ugly, are more). It always made me think about the standards of beauty and how subjective they are.
I would like to see this message turned on its head — This is a message for the ugly people. We, the beautiful, are more. (for those who have eyes to see and hearts to know true beauty)
I appreciate your consideration of this! I frequently hear people bemoan the fact that they don't look the way they want to (think they should look). Years ago, I spent some time thinking about the women and men who are my heroes. There are so many! And not one of them is my hero because of their looks -- it is because of their fierce compassion, their wit, their humor, their strength of character, their courage, their kindness, their curiosity, their persistence, their skill, and on and on. These are the people I want to emulate. I don't need the perfect nose to do it.
I’m recently returned to Cork city and am gradually reacquainting myself with its streets and shops and sounds. Down the side of the Metropole Hotel, Harley’s Street is now pedestrialised (after many years of being a short cut by car) and on the gable wall of the hotel some artist(s) have printed the words HOPE, COURAGE, RESILIENCE on a backdrop of thousands of multi coloured hands. As I stood back to admire it, I realised all of these wonderfully brave qualities are indeed in your own hands…I walked on feeling a few inches taller, and braver.
Like music without lyrics, I have no memory of the graffiti words. But as I traveled from train to subway, subway to train daily in NYC for 3 years in the 1980s I remember the array of curved shapes and colors of the ever growing graffiti. In this
already loud gray city, the garish graffiti felt like turned up volume, desperate attempts to reclaim singular souls in a dehumanising place. It confirmed my own feelings of suffocation there
The older I get, the more I love terms of endearment. My teenage and young adult self despised them, but now if someone calls me darling/honey/love, my day is made. At work, I slip into Spanish because that is the language of the community. I call my coworkers the most glorious terms of endearment I can think of - mi corazón, mi vida, mi amor. I love it when they do the same.
I would argue - probably to much disagreement - that the most important words written on the walls of our cities are names. Specifically "tags". Whilst often denounced as being unsightly or vandalism, the reality is that tagging is where every single graffiti writer starts. You only get good at any art form through continual practice.
I'm encouraged by these people - often young, but often not - *choosing* their own name and writing it over and over on our streets. It's alive. It's saying, "hey, I'm here. This is my place too." It's art and it's always free. It takes dedication to be constantly "up".
And, unlike the majority of urban street signage, it isn't an authoritarian message, prescribing behaviour or telling people where they are or are not allowed to be. It's simply a statement of being. A greeting, without being around to hear the response.
I’ve always viewed Tags as an unwanted form of communication, but communication non the less. I love graffiti, the way the art form has evolved now it wonderful.
Sorry to lower the tone and break the rules, but my favourite sign is an official one, on the wall of the women’s toilets in Adelaide Airport (South Australia). It says:
ADELAIDE AIRPORT USES RECYCLED WATER IN THESE TOILETS
DO NOT DRINK
It’s been there at least 10 years, and always makes me laugh - which has to be a good thing, surely 😆
I was greeted by a public statement on a bright purple T-shirt, worn by an employee stacking shelves in a discount store....Ocean State Job Lot. It boldly read:
something like....
YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE OK, YOU ARE DOING FINE, JUST KEEP GOING
She quietly displayed such a strong statement on her back and kept stacking
Unique types of graffiti are the petroglyphs left by the Sheepeater Indians on the Ring Lake Ranch property near Dubois, Wyoming. Scholars believe they were left from a few hundred to several thousand years ago. Most of these are winged creatures, perhaps eagles or owls, etched into the rocks during a vision quest experience. Some have tips of wings or feet resting near a crack in the rock where perhaps the seeker entered the rock during his or her vision. I always feel like I’m on holy ground whenever I stand before them.
I have seen that DON'T BE AFRAID in Belfast--and it reminds me that Seamus Heaney's final words were precisely that, in Latin, Noli Timere, sent as a text to his wife. One of my friends, the late Don Cozzens, thought of this as one of the main messages of Scripture.
During the pandemic there was a sign outside a restaurant that said, " The vwhole world is short-staffed. Be kind to those who showed up." It has been my prayer whenever I'm on hold, when the line is long, or patience is running thin.
I love this! A bit of patience makes the world so much more pleasant!!
I saw embroidered into the wrapping around the construction staging at the National Museum of Women in the Arts a statement of commitment, seemingly against all odds:
AS LONG AS
GENERATIONS CHANGE
BUT OUR STRUGGLES
STAY THE SAME,
I WILL BE A FEMINIST
Four stories tall and as wide as the building. Red stitching on the grey wrapping. Big and broad across New York Avenue.
Amen
There’s a writing on a wall that’s my wallpaper lol. It says “I hope nothing haunts you too long”. My complicated relationship with guilt from religion and reconciling my sexuality often makes my mistakes haunt me more than they should. But that writing reminds me to rob my pain of that power and just keep going. The things that haunt me now inform me instead but they don’t keep me prisoner.
Your poignant reflection reminded me of the notion of ‘Original Blessing’ popularized by theologian Matthew Fox as opposed to the traditional notion of Original Sin, whereby he reclaims the inherent goodness of creation (including us human beings). A movement away from guilt and inferiority towards affirmation and celebration of life and humanity. Thank you, Rara.
Thank you for sharing as well you’ve uplifted me.
I want to thank you for the master class on Saturday in @Maya C Popa’s Conscious Writers Collective. It was brilliant and inspiring. Much gratitude as well for this article. I live in the state of Minnesota, not far from the intersection where George Floyd was murdered. It is now called George Floyd Square. I drive through it occasionally, but only when I need to get to a different place. It’s unbearably sad. “Justice” is written on one wall. I don’t think we’re there yet.
I used to work in downtown Bogota and I still remember a message that was stenciled in a few walls by a famous graffiti artist "Este es un mensaje para la gente guapa: Los feos somos más" (This is a message for handsome people: We, the ugly, are more). It always made me think about the standards of beauty and how subjective they are.
I would like to see this message turned on its head — This is a message for the ugly people. We, the beautiful, are more. (for those who have eyes to see and hearts to know true beauty)
I appreciate your consideration of this! I frequently hear people bemoan the fact that they don't look the way they want to (think they should look). Years ago, I spent some time thinking about the women and men who are my heroes. There are so many! And not one of them is my hero because of their looks -- it is because of their fierce compassion, their wit, their humor, their strength of character, their courage, their kindness, their curiosity, their persistence, their skill, and on and on. These are the people I want to emulate. I don't need the perfect nose to do it.
I’m recently returned to Cork city and am gradually reacquainting myself with its streets and shops and sounds. Down the side of the Metropole Hotel, Harley’s Street is now pedestrialised (after many years of being a short cut by car) and on the gable wall of the hotel some artist(s) have printed the words HOPE, COURAGE, RESILIENCE on a backdrop of thousands of multi coloured hands. As I stood back to admire it, I realised all of these wonderfully brave qualities are indeed in your own hands…I walked on feeling a few inches taller, and braver.
Pedestrialised! Could refer to being transformed through walking 😂
Two signs seen recently in Oslo (I don’t speak Norwegian. Both signs were written in English.)
“You’re a work of art. Not everyone will understand you. But the ones who do will never forget about you.”
”Make vintage not garbage.”
Both messages inspired hope. Art will help us all to survive, and eventually, thrive.
Like music without lyrics, I have no memory of the graffiti words. But as I traveled from train to subway, subway to train daily in NYC for 3 years in the 1980s I remember the array of curved shapes and colors of the ever growing graffiti. In this
already loud gray city, the garish graffiti felt like turned up volume, desperate attempts to reclaim singular souls in a dehumanising place. It confirmed my own feelings of suffocation there
Human beings long to be heard — to be seen. Each one of us uniquely colorful on the curving, winding road. Nicely said, Amy.
Thank you Michael...
I was in New York City yesterday, walking walking walking everywhere and watching my son learn to love the city as I do.
Walking up the High Line, I saw a mural with the words "Thank you Darling."
So simple and perfect. The thank you was from me to me, from me to the city, from the city to me, from everyone to everyone.
At the end of the day we managed to catch a glimpse of Manhattanhenge.
Thank you darling.
Thank you darling Johanna.
The older I get, the more I love terms of endearment. My teenage and young adult self despised them, but now if someone calls me darling/honey/love, my day is made. At work, I slip into Spanish because that is the language of the community. I call my coworkers the most glorious terms of endearment I can think of - mi corazón, mi vida, mi amor. I love it when they do the same.
I love it too.
“Eyes on YOU” on the toilet stall wall remind me that in even the most private arenas of my individual life I am a living member of a collective being
I would argue - probably to much disagreement - that the most important words written on the walls of our cities are names. Specifically "tags". Whilst often denounced as being unsightly or vandalism, the reality is that tagging is where every single graffiti writer starts. You only get good at any art form through continual practice.
I'm encouraged by these people - often young, but often not - *choosing* their own name and writing it over and over on our streets. It's alive. It's saying, "hey, I'm here. This is my place too." It's art and it's always free. It takes dedication to be constantly "up".
And, unlike the majority of urban street signage, it isn't an authoritarian message, prescribing behaviour or telling people where they are or are not allowed to be. It's simply a statement of being. A greeting, without being around to hear the response.
Interesting perspective, I will see them differently.
😊✨
I’ve always viewed Tags as an unwanted form of communication, but communication non the less. I love graffiti, the way the art form has evolved now it wonderful.
Sorry to lower the tone and break the rules, but my favourite sign is an official one, on the wall of the women’s toilets in Adelaide Airport (South Australia). It says:
ADELAIDE AIRPORT USES RECYCLED WATER IN THESE TOILETS
DO NOT DRINK
It’s been there at least 10 years, and always makes me laugh - which has to be a good thing, surely 😆
LOL! Public health at it's best : )
I was greeted by a public statement on a bright purple T-shirt, worn by an employee stacking shelves in a discount store....Ocean State Job Lot. It boldly read:
something like....
YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE OK, YOU ARE DOING FINE, JUST KEEP GOING
She quietly displayed such a strong statement on her back and kept stacking
I have a t-shirt that reads: You don’t have to be ok, to be ok.
On a small boulder at a trailhead in the mountains (in Sharpie): 'It's okay to be sad.'
Unique types of graffiti are the petroglyphs left by the Sheepeater Indians on the Ring Lake Ranch property near Dubois, Wyoming. Scholars believe they were left from a few hundred to several thousand years ago. Most of these are winged creatures, perhaps eagles or owls, etched into the rocks during a vision quest experience. Some have tips of wings or feet resting near a crack in the rock where perhaps the seeker entered the rock during his or her vision. I always feel like I’m on holy ground whenever I stand before them.
I have seen that DON'T BE AFRAID in Belfast--and it reminds me that Seamus Heaney's final words were precisely that, in Latin, Noli Timere, sent as a text to his wife. One of my friends, the late Don Cozzens, thought of this as one of the main messages of Scripture.