The hippest spot in Miami, Wynwood has become something of a mecca. A mostly public shrine to street art, pop art and the clash of high and low cultures, these days the Wynwood arts district is as much a tourist destination as a progressive art enclave.
Thanks to good old gentrification, an infusion of super cool eateries and a smattering of trendy stores like Shinola and Warby Parker, the district seems just shy of authentic. Not that this invalidates the art found on every wall, sidewalk and lamp post, or the goal of some of the more obviously political works, like one that paints Trump as the Joker and another that’s a mash-up of Mother Teresa and Kim Kardashian. Sure, there is still much to see and to ponder but something about the ubiquity of it all makes each individual sighting somehow less affecting.
I imagine what the first taste of a Banksy in London was like or the first time the Wynwood walls crept up on a pedestrian. That art would have jumped off the pavement and sailed off the brick wall as you walked by. It would have surprised you with how unexpected it was and how random it felt to see it. It would have probably made you stop, stare, maybe tilt your head to one side or the other in quiet inquiry. That art would have made you wonder whether it was even art at all, being so lonesomely left to the whims of city and climate.
Instead, the reputation of modern day Wynwood precedes it, somehow preventing a fully candid and organic experience. But, like tooling around Toronto’s Kensington Market, there is still something romantic and rebellious in wandering streets that overflow with paint, words and figures, even if you knew to expect them. Taking in works by artists named Faith XLVII, London Police, Futura 2000, Inti, Human, Case and dozens of others, there is something that begs you to indulge your own artistic leanings and longings; an intuitive encouragement that sort of trails around behind you, egging you on to find your own artistic voice.
From graffiti tags and concrete-soaking stencils to city block-sized murals, there’s an unmistakeable “we dare you” whisper that pushes you to consider the impossible: why couldn’t I be a painter, a musician, a poet; beyond that, why couldn’t I have my own business, travel the world, confess my love, conquer my fears, etc. If art can be anywhere, why can’t we indulge our most secret hopes and strike out in pursuit of our most outrageous desires? While this might not be the place to truly discover street art in its unadulterated form, Wynwood can still inspire us, if we let it.
