Art

A midnight sugar craving and a quick Google search led me to the small milkshake bar tucked away on Avenue A. Ray’s Candy Store is more of a window than a dessert store, a place so non-descript I completely walked past it the first time. I took my sucrose loot to the adjacent Thomson Square Park and found an empty bench.

Lit by eerily beautiful orange street lights and punctuated by sounds of laughter from the various stoner groups and hushed whispers of the midnight dates, Thompson Square Park seemed as good a place as any to devour my fried Oreos. I sat there for a while, basking in the orange.

A trio of benches caught my attention as I walked to the dustbin to dispose off my waste. On first glance, they seemed like the type of bright, painted benches you see in school playgrounds, but on closer inspection I found that they all carried a message. The art on them was all political commentary, with topics of racism, diversity and stereotyping being common motifs. The benches had a psychedelic pull to them; like if AOC had employed Kevin Parker as her campaign manager. I stood there hypnotised for a while.