Two blocks from my house, I pass by it often.
That same grey wall, that welcomes cars from the street to the gravel parking lot. Queenstown is a tourist town like so many others, clean and generally void of street art, or anyone who cares enough to notice a lack of street art. Signs and company font clamor for recognition along the main street. Everyone promises everything.
Like the small seeds that find a way to grow in the dirty margins of the sidewalk; little stems of art sprout from dirty bathroom walls, street allays and ugly lots.
Rone‘s been tilling Queenstown for some time, his “Jane Doe” sticker being the only recognizable and ubiquitous street image in town for the past two years. Im familiar with her face, appearing in nearly every obscure space.
Thankfully, Rone got outside of the bathroom gallery and silently commissioned the parking lot canvas, with her. The woman with the red lips. “all that glitters is not gold,” that old cliche, scrubbed in the dirt with beautifully crafted letters.
It is so beautiful, that I cant help but stop every time I pass, even if it’s just for a second. Her features sculpted of pant and “clean-fetti” style (scrubbing dirty stuff to make a picture), are so perfectly subtile. In a way it is the opposite of graffiti, which boasts overwhelming color, size, persona and name recognition. She is nearly an extension of the wall, a blending of moss and gloss.
Jane doe. Welcome to the neighborhood.