Art happens when and wherever it can. In every bookstore in which I've worked, corporate environments and independents, companies large and small, people have found space to put things up in unlikely places, unapproved, just... 'cause. It's nesting as much as decorating, I should think, marking territory. "Kilroy Was Here" -- none of it's graffiti as such, though I know graffiti has become respectable lately. It's less message than mess, and all the better for that.
The best of it sticks around, curls at the edges, gets a patina on the tape, ceases to mean anything if it ever did. I like the idea of these things getting on, going on even when the people who put the pictures on there have gone. These carts are like crab-shells.
Sooner or later, someone with the authority to do so will have the lot scraped off. Doesn't matter. It always happens. It will just start over; a clipping here, a comic strip there, a bit of colored paper and it will be art all over again.
I find it all strangely cheering. Thought I'd share.
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