Following my pre-Turkey Day disappointment in humanity, I remembered one of my favorite works of public art. It lives on the Berkeley campus, on a slab of gray just by the square of grass across from Café Strada, where my dog likes to go crazy. There is usually construction there, which of course means lots of cement and blah. It was it's usual boring until one day I noticed the wall had changed. Tiny creatures and flowers were now etched into the grime. And although not really my artistic style, the cartoon-like figures made me smile. As though silently mocking, they stood there showing that public art didn't necessarily have to be a "destructive" thing.
Note to self: next time you see a graffiti artist being told off, remind them to use a powerhose instead of a spray can.
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