All of them catch your eye-bright colors and wild forms in places where color is scarce and forms are the forms of dirty brick warehouses and rusty billboards. Their creators are shop-keepers and artists and hoodlums. Murals of the street may be art, may be craft, may be eyesores. What they aren’t is shy. And they don’t apologize. Not for being loud, not for being loose and certainly not for not being trapped in some white-walled museum. Murals of the street are proud. And in a city dedicated to orderly urban development, these wallflowers grow wild.
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