I almost trip over my double-take every time I see one of Gaia's mammoth-scale works on the decaying walls of abandoned structures throughout the blighted parts of Baltimore.
My first encounter with a Gaia was in the form of an anguished bear. Miraculously it appeared on a crumbling door in an alley around the corner from our house. I was instantly smitten.
Ironically, it's only when the harsh elements ensure the decomposition of a Gaia, that a new one appears — but never in the same place twice. Take last Sunday, when we stumbled upon the compelling gaze of his latest creation (see below).
I am still plotting how I could possibly remove the boards from the bricks, and erect them in my home... look at those hands!
In a recent article in Urbanite, Gaia was quoted as saying, "Baltimore's been a fantastic canvas, which is sad because ultimately my work wouldn't exist if there wasn't any neglected space. What that neglected space allows for is a certain freedom and grassroots, democratic, public space. The artist has full agency, and there aren't any boundaries or obstacles for an artist to produce work besides the law of posting on property."
Keep your eyes peeled. This is a transient genre. When it's gone, it's gone...
|Couldn't resist using both lenses|
See more of the genius here