Under the bridge, the pillars are painted. Not tagged — painted, deliberately, by people who fought the city for the right to do it, and the murals keep going block by block from the park down toward the water.
One Saturday a month the neighborhood unlocks the rest of it. Studios that stay shut the rest of the month roll their doors up, and the artist is standing right there beside the work, happy to tell you what it is about if you ask and content to let you look if you do not. There is no map and nothing to hold at the gate. You wander, you double back, you end up in a room you never knew existed behind a storefront you have driven past a hundred times.
Self-guided and free, monthly, around Crosby Street and National Avenue.
Go with the person who says they do not really get art. This is the one that fixes that.
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