For our first three days here, Montreal was gray. I’d hoped for fresh snow but what we got instead – which still gave me a quick grin – were leftover clumps of off-color, early winter debris. No matter, really; I’ll take it.
I don’t know if the gray is typical for this area, though I’m sure the deeper into the cold months it gets, the more the ground is covered in white. I wondered, then, if that was the impetus for all the city’s murals, if the desire for color inspired artists and residents to do something about it.
I read somewhere that there’s a mural festival each year, that the walls are unveiled somewhat simultaneously. I think I’d like to see that, just as I’d like to know the story behind each painting.Without that knowledge, though, the city became a treasure hunt, with vast images and bright colors lurking around any number of corners. Some of the murals seemed dark in topic, others quite jovial.It didn’t matter; I found myself delighted, again and again.
All weekend, I wondered why every city doesn’t do this. The addition of whimsy is a good thing, the indulgence of color somehow healing to the spirit.
Whether the days are gray or quite beautiful indeed, these murals would be – for me – always a welcome addition. They helped me fall a bit harder for Montreal, making me want to return, hunting for all that has (colorfully) become new once again.