On Jan. 24, Shepard Fairey visited our campus. Invited by the Education for Public Inquiry and International Citizenship (EPIIC) program, he covered the wall by Jumbo Express with his signature street art. Talking with my peers, I gathered that there was a mixed reaction to his work. Some felt that it was out of place; the bold red and black color scheme seemed to signify something ominous. Others decided that it was cool to have a celebrity come to campus.
Whether or not his mural pleases everyone's artistic tastes, Fairey gave us something more important than just a colored wall: He gave us dialogue, character and public art. On a campus that lacks public art of any kind, Tufts should be grateful for this bold addition.
Since coming to Tufts, I have felt that the campus lacks a cohesive character in terms of art and architecture. The buildings on the academic quad harmoniously interact with one another, but the view of '70s-style Miller Hall strikes a discordant note. Yet, campus cohesion does not necessarily mean a single unifying style. Cohesion lies in buildings and space interacting together to create a welcoming atmosphere. Where we live, and the buildings and people we interact with, touch each person's life intimately. Whether we are in the slums of Mumbai or the polished apartments of the Upper East Side, our built and decorated environment has an impact on us.
The idea of space is both an abstract and concrete one. By setting up walls and buildings, humans change and construct the space they occupy. Our perception of that wall or building, however, can define the space. The outcome of these barriers may hold cultural or political implications. Take Baghdad for example. The walls surrounding the Green Zone are heavily protected. They are almost impenetrable in order to protect the international agencies and government offices inside. Though the area may be secure on the inside, the immediate area surrounding the Green Zone, the Red Zone, is perceived to be the opposite. The security may be keeping out threats such as insurgents, but one must also consider that these intimidating walls also separate the Iraqi citizens from international help and their government. This separation of space may have a negative effect on the psyche of the Iraqis. Ultimately, this has contributed to the Balkanization of Iraq, creating a divided and not cohesive city.
The definition of a wall is something that divides space, but it can also reconstruct space. The fortified walls around the Green Zone created an enclosed enclave which excludes the rest of the city. Fairey's mural on the campus center wall reconstructed the space surrounding it. One could hardly call the patio outside Jumbo Express anything besides a corridor or the place where the shuttle from Davis Square stops. It was stale. That wall's only function was to hide the dumpsters behind it. But now, public art has redefined the underused space as a marker for Tufts.
Consider Union Square in Somerville. It can hardly be thought of as a square, as it is the intersection of several major roads. It is inaccessible by the T but reachable by the 80 bus line. Union Square would otherwise be a busy and impersonal intersection, but it is filled with little cafés.
Even so, a collection of cafés does not define a place. Davis Square is a large brick patio. Harvard Square is characterized by the architecture of its namesake university. Newbury Street is known for its brownstones. What is Union Square known for? The vibrant collection of murals that decorate many walls. According to a friend, the murals are markers signalling that you are in Union Square. Once the murals disappear from sight, you know you've left the area. In other words, the wall art is the glue to an otherwise potentially disjointed space. The street art has involved the Somerville Boys & Girls Club and the residents of the area. The murals have not only given that space an identity but also have created a community.
On the Tufts campus, the Shepard Fairey wall will give our school more definition and physical distinction. Although the mural is only projected to last for up to four years, it has already given our campus a refresher and a stimulator. Just as the mural is glued to the wall, the mural will serve as a type of glue for the campus, bringing our ideals and ideas together. "Obey Peace" is a simple and powerful message. The reworking of Communist propaganda reflects Tufts' constant goal to innovate and make better what already exists.
We need more public art to spruce up this campus. When the trees have lost their leaves and the flowers have crawled underground during the winter, the bright points of this campus that remain will be the art. The statue of Jumbo outside Barnum is great, paying homage to our mascot. People interact with it, climbing on top of it in the middle of the night. The cannon is a beam of color and communication, drawing people in to connect with it and each other over its next coat of paint. And the little elephant statue outside of Tisch Library reminds me every day of my community. Tufts needs more bright points. The barren Res Quad and other empty, underused lots around campus are screaming to be included in the everyday life of this school.
We need to start thinking about public art not as just a pretty sitting duck, but as a catalyst of dialogue and community. Public art can be dynamic and active. As a university that stresses active citizenship, our physical campus also needs to reflect our ideals. Fairey's mural is a poignant reminder of art and space.
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Lumay Wang is a sophomore majoring in art history and International Relations. She is a member of this year's EPIIC class.
