Men in dressed in neon orange, working day in and day out. Digging , hitting , drilling , escavating , aided by their heavy machinery. Each time I pass by the street seems to assume a new look. At Christmas , it was a park, I walked on green grass and sat on white seats that glowed, but when the new year came, the barricades were mounted, the grass turned to sand, and out came the men in their neon suits again.
I thought I could take a walk, and watch the cars drive by, I wanted to play on the grass again and watch the children roll on it. Gentrification , a word I have become accustomed to hearing anytime someone talks about the changes happening in the city. As an artist , I feel obliged to document visually , to remember what it used to be. We couldn’t drive by and when we walked by we had to be given directions , looking up at the luminous orange street sign that said , “Detour at Union Square”.