If Twin Cities alleyways were a reflection of the psyche, they would probably be called the tenebris umbra umbram. Which is really just a fancy Jungian way of saying the "dark shadow's dark shadow." Or something like it, probably.
It's the middle of May, yet our sleepy backstreets are shame graveyards for Christmas trees now burnt by the sun and dead leaves we couldn't muster the energy to rake away in October.
But like any true aspect of self, those old shame and rubbish routes also hold hidden gems: Scattered artworks that pop up like tiny clues to a bigger mystery.
Shhh!….don't tell anyone about this secret (Alley art in South Minneapolis)
Along alleyways in South Minneapolis, broken-down garages and microwave-oven remains become canvases for paintings and sculptures —humble little expressions that don't feel comfortable making grand public appearances.
You'd be sad, too, if someone left a cigarette in you (Alley art in South Minneapolis)
Cities across the world boast beautiful street and alley art, often in the form of murals, like Balmy Alley in San Francisco, which became an expression of political unrest in Central America in the 1980s and served to further the Chicano mural art movement.
But what's unique about alley art in the Twin Cities, and in this case Powderhorn Park, are the peculiar stories told through these little artworks left to live behind us. Within a 10-block radius, I discovered more than two dozen pieces of alley art, from paintings hung on garages to sculptures strung from poles.
