Unseen Denver is a romance. Not a typical romance between two people but a gritty love between my hometown and the people who live within her. A story told through photographs as we have traveled through her. These pictures contain much less than a well shot skyline, and are more like the wall behind a family snapshot. Taken mostly with our phones’ cameras, these images are the unseen aspects of beauty in this city — the freckles beneath your shirt.
Though most of the posted pictures are of graffiti, this web site is not just about that particular art form. The unfair majority is due to our appreciation for irony and our respect for the art. There is more to the city than her skyline and it’s decoration.
Think about this site the next time you’re walking your dog in Highland after work, or when you’re wandering the bars in LoDo. Perhaps something will catch your eye as you leave a record store on Colfax, or on your way to Queen Soopers. When this happens, take a picture of that piece of the city.
In regards to Love: The majority of the earliest of this collection say “Love.” Unseen Denver started when a handful of friends embraced their love for this city and then began to find it written everywhere they went. Together, we spent the summer of 2009 rediscovering Denver and with your help, we look forward to finding more.
Do you have a picture of Unseen Denver? Please click here to submit your photos.
Ignite Denver 8 | Independent and Unlawful:
The Unseen Denver guide to autonomy, mischief and art in the Mile High City
By April Gosling
If I had a camera, I would’ve caught that
homeless man modeling his jacket to the other
gentleman on the corner. The way he spun
with his arms out, the leather fringe ensnaring
his body. His smile. As he shrugged it off.
Folded and replaced it in his Colorado Rockies
duffle like tomorrow might be new again.
This morning. A hobo asked me for advice
as I walked the dog up the alley. Behind
him, someone had spray-painted a peace symbol
in the O of a NO PARKING sign. We talked
about commitment while he scratched the dog’s
head; both of them looking at me. “What do you
think I should do,” he asked. The first thing
to do is show up, I replied.
“They said to call at six. I called. I’m running
out of change. Y’know? Sister?”
For months, we’ve run
through this city. Taking
pictures of graffiti.
Following love around.