A City Painted By the Few
Unpacking the mural money, aesthetic control, and lack of transparency in Tucson.
How Public is Public Art?
As ‘Tucson turns 250,’ I’m asking who decides what the city looks like and who gets left out of the frame.
From the front door at Xerocraft, I can see two massive murals painted by the same artist. One just went up, and now I’ve learned there’s possibly another coming - this time as part of Tucson’s 250th birthday celebration. And I’ll be honest: I’m bored.
It’s not because the murals are bad. It’s not about the artist. It’s about the pattern. Over and over, the same names, the same aesthetic, and the same “safe” stories are used to define what Tucson looks like, especially in our downtown. Often, they’re backed by public funding.
I know many brilliant local artists, who could bring vibrancy, tension, joy, and soul to our walls - and who need paid opportunities like this. But they’re not getting the calls. They’re not being commissioned to tell Tucson’s story. So whose story is this?
Public money, private decisions?
Public art is supposed to be for all of us. But too often, the process is opaque. So far in my research, information on who gets chosen and how much they get paid is not readily available.
The lack of transparency matters. Because when the same people are awarded large commissions again and again, it’s not just a style choice. It becomes a system. A feedback loop where the aesthetic of a few starts to stand in for the identity of an entire city.
And that’s where it starts to feel less like celebration… and more like marketing?
Aesthetic gentrification?
This might sound dramatic, but it’s a real phenomenon: the use of public art to “brand” an area for tourism or redevelopment, rather than reflecting the richness and complexity of who lives here.
When murals become part of a beautification strategy that doesn’t include the communities being displaced, that’s not public art, it’s aesthetic gentrification.
We deserve beauty that reflects us: the whole, messy, layered, multilingual, underfunded, brilliant city we actually are.
What would it mean to make it truly public?
I’ve been working on this essay for a while, asking: How public is public art, really? And what would it mean to change the system?
This isn’t about shading artists or pointing fingers. It’s about learning and reimagining how decisions get made, and who gets to be in the room when they’re made.
So I want to hear from you.
Whether you’re an artist, a mural-lover, or someone who’s just watching it all happen - I’ve made a short survey to gather community thoughts. I’d love if you took a few minutes to share:
You don’t have to be an artist to respond. Your perspective matters.