One of the greatest aspects of New Orleans culture is, arguably, its myriad representations, its ability to simultaneously occupy paradoxical spaces — the fact that our art exists in accessible, communal spaces.
Moreover, in a city that prides itself upon its deep sense of locality, it seems only fitting that our art permeate seemingly mundane spaces; live amongst us. Right? Eccentricity runs in our blood, our pavement, our streets. And the wonderfully accessible street art in this city — at every corner posted with an Emersonian-esque telephone pole; every sidewalk when we should, in fact, hop instead of walk; every muraled drugstore front that would, instead, read “Walgreens” in obnoxious neon signage — serves as a reminder that, well — guys, we are, in fact, rather strange. And we’d have it no other way.
We can all wander New Orleans streets/rues/alleys feeling cool and artsy; at home; and certainly, offbeat. Nonetheless, these works of street art, and their subsequent cultural associations, remind us of our overlapping appreciations for culture and art that, quite literally, bubbles up from the street.
Why walk or stumble when you can hop?
The all-seeing telephone pole that knows Comcast definitely didn’t show up until 5, when they promised noon.
Despite what we may have been told, superglue is not forever.
Because we’re over terra cotta:
Because no one needs to see another 12″ by 12″ canvas of a black and gold fleur de lis.
There’s nothing quite as anticlimactic as tying up your pony to plain brass pole.
Or arriving to an interview with a door that might not subsequently elicit nightmares.
A public wall that ponders the eternal question: Which came first: the hummingbird or the eggs?
And another public wall that reminds us all that there’s no such thing as too much hair product.
Our street signs aren’t exceptionally reliable; so, when in doubt, just follow the koi.
Because the New Orleans dating scene can be bleak:
Because heaven knows we’ve seen our share of fluorescent Walgreens signs:
Chelsea Lee is associate editor at NolaVie. Email comments to her at firstname.lastname@example.org.