The Best Public Art of 2023

In a year brimming with visionary and timely projects, there has been a profound exploration of public engagement and connection, a dynamic expression of voices, and a powerful unification of communities and ideas through the transformative medium of public art. The art and design fabrication company UAP has revealed its annual list of the standout public art projects of 2023, in partnership with internationally recognized curators.

Projects (chosen for their impact this year—several were installed in 2022) were selected by Dina Amin, curator and CEO of the Visual Arts Commission; Tairone Bastien, an independent curator based in Toronto and an assistant professor at Ontario College of Art and Design University; Hedwig Fijen, founding director of Manifesta; Nora Lawrence, artistic director and chief curator of Storm King Art Center; and Nathan Pōhio, artist and senior curator of Māori Art at Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki, and co-vice-president of Te Ūaka Lyttleton Museum.

UAP’s curatorial director, Natasha Smith, said: “This year’s selection—with thanks to our esteemed contributors—is incredibly sensitive, beautiful, and of the ‘now.’ Themes center on revealing truths; truths about places, histories, cultural erasure, sexual and racial inequality, and war. However, all is not lost. Light is also a theme that shines through as a call to undertake restorative discourses that enable shared learnings. It is certainly a thought-provoking collection of incredible public artworks for 2023.”

Manhattan, New York

Towering above the hustle and bustle of midtown Manhattan stands NOW by artist Shahzia Sikander, a Pakistani American artist celebrated globally for her frequent participation in global exhibitions and for her engagement with miniature painting. What is remarkable about this work is both its physical manifestation and its symbolism. Installed by Sikander atop the imposing rooftop of the New York State Supreme Court on Madison Avenue, NOW rises from the base of a vacant lotus plant and is the first female sculpture to join a line-up of carved-stone, robed male figures traditionally used to represent the law, including Confucius, Justinian, and others.

At a larger-than-life eight feet tall, this gold, triumphant female sculpture is an important response to the “now” and the times in which we live. The work gestures to the cultural reinvestigation that is taking place in New York and globally as we consider our past, our present, and our future. As we look to reposition biases that exist around the role of women in our societies, power, race, and the importance of celebrating the diversity of the peoples that make up our societies, now is the time for NOW.

—Dina Amin

London, England

After a significant refurbish, the National Portrait Gallery in London reopened in mid-2023 with new monumental bronze doors at its north entrance. These newly installed doors are the work of Tracey Emin, who uses these doors as an opportunity to highlight the long-neglected role of women artists within the collections of major institutions worldwide. Consisting of 45 portraits of women on bronze panels across the three entrance doors, The Doors seeks to represent all women rather than capture the likeness of any one woman.

Each of the 45 female faces is hand-drawn, a gestural representation of the female face, which is then cast in bronze in the grand tradition of monumental bronze sculptural doors, including the project that occupied Auguste Rodin for decades: The Gates of Hell (1880–1917).

—Dina Amin

Queens, New York

One of the most provocative public artworks this year was The World’s UnFair, a surreal fairground full of large-scale sculptures, animatronics, and multimedia installations that overtook an empty lot, primed for development, in Long Island City, Queens. This work is the latest immersive installation by New Red Order (NRO), a public secret society dedicated to creating grounds for Indigenous futures, facilitated by the multidisciplinary artist Jackson Polys, and the filmmakers and artists Adam Khalil and Zack Khalil.

The World’s UnFair parodies the propagandistic allure and spectacle of World’s Fairs, which gained prominence in the 19th and 20th centuries. When New York played host in 1939 and 1964, the event was held in Queens (where NRO’s installation was also located). These events were platforms for promoting industrialization and global market expansion. NRO’s installation intentionally subverts such fairs’ original purpose, exposing the false narratives used to justify genocide and displacement of Indigenous peoples and the theft and capitalistic exploitation of their lands.

The site of the installation itself, situated on what is part of the Lenape people’s unceded territory, currently awaits development into yet another glass tower, like dozens of others in the area. Dismantling entrenched colonial narratives is arduous, yet NRO confront the task head-on by blending wry humor and gravitas to craft their own spectacular world. Here, an anthropomorphic tree and beaver engage in dialogue about private property and its relation to settler colonialism. Elsewhere, people who have given Indigenous land back share their experiences in a public program, spreading knowledge and tactics for reclaiming and decolonizing space.

The World’s UnFair is a call to action for restorative justice. The work invites people to become accomplices in the Land Back movement, to donate and support Lenape organizations like Lenni Lenapexkweyok, get informed on the issues, and support all Indigenous peoples’ right to return to their ancestral lands as concrete steps towards a decolonized future.

—Tairone Bastien

The most incisive public artwork I experienced this year was a text-based installation by Lani Maestro entitled No Pain Like This Body, No Body Like This Pain, at the Vancouver Art Gallery’s Offsite location in the city’s Financial District, first installed in 2022. High above me, two red neon signs glowed with the work’s title. The twin phrases gave me pause, piercing the night like a violence that felt out of place with the artwork’s surroundings. Maestro is well known for minimal yet provocative text-based works that are site responsive, unearthing a place’s resonant histories and narratives.

The two brief lines poignantly address human suffering, which is a terrifying condition that sharply contrasts with the work’s sterile and muted environment—a business district of characterless hotels, office towers, and high-end boutiques. This is some of the costliest real estate in one of the most expensive cities in the world and is, no doubt, under constant surveillance and policing. It’s a dehumanizing façade that belies the reality of Vancouver’s most vulnerable populations who are marginalized and invisibilized yet inextricably part of the city.

The first version of this work was created in 2010 for an exhibition at Centre A, a nonprofit public art gallery in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. This is a vastly different part of town that faces profound social challenges, including homelessness, along with drug use and mental health issues that were further stressed by COVID-19. The phrases occurred to Maestro as she navigated through the neighborhood. The full power of Maestro’s work is its ability to bridge these two sides of the city. Dispelling the myth of Vancouver, often celebrated for its natural beauty and high standard of living (for some), is vital, and hopefully a dynamic way forward for public art in the city.

—Tairone Bastien

Petrit Halilaj, When the sun goes away we paint the sky

Pristina, Kosovo

In the heart of Pristina, Kosovo, stands the Grand Hotel Prishtina, a once-grand landmark that has fallen into disrepair. But thanks to artist Petrit Halilaj, the hotel has been transformed into a beacon of hope and possibility with his public art installation When the sun goes away, we paint the sky, originally opened in 2022. Halilaj’s installation reimagines the hotel’s iconic sign, which has been dormant for years. The artist has replaced the missing letters and added new ones, spelling out the words in English and Albanian: “WHEN THE SUN GOES AWAY, WE PAINT THE SKY.”

This poetic message is a call to action for the people of Pristina to create their own light, even in the darkest times. It is also a reminder of the power of art to transform communities and inspire hope. In addition to the sign, Halilaj has also remounted and reconfigured the hotel’s original stars. He has also invited people from Kosovo to make and display their own stars, adding to the growing constellation that now adorns the building. The stars are free to signify whatever values or desires the people of Kosovo project onto them. Halilaj’s public art installation is a powerful and moving work that speaks to the resilience of the human spirit.

—Hedwig Fijen

Flaka Haliti, Under the Sun – Explain What Happened

Pristina, Kosovo

Under the Sun – Explain What Happened is a haunting and evocative public art installation by Flaka Haliti that confronts the viewer with the legacy of war and violence. The work consists of a large-scale sculpture made from camouflage netting that has been cut and reassembled into a series of clouds. The clouds are suspended in the air, creating a kind of uncanny horizon. Haliti created the sculpture using material she found at a former Kosovo Force (KFOR) base in Kosovo. The KFOR is the NATO-led international peacekeeping force deployed to Kosovo in 1999 in the aftermath of the Kosovo War.

The use of camouflage netting is significant. Camouflage is a military tactic that is used to conceal and deceive. In Haliti’s work, camouflage netting is used to create a sense of unease and uncertainty. The clouds are both beautiful and ominous, suggesting that the past is always present, even if it is hidden from view. The title of the work, Under the Sun – Explain What Happened, is a direct challenge to the viewer to confront the reality of war and its aftermath. The installation invites people to contemplate the historical narratives shaping their identity. Haliti’s work is a powerful reminder that art can be used to bear witness to the past and to challenge us to imagine a better future.

— Hedwig Fijen

Manhattan, New York

Phyllida Barlow’s exhibition “PRANK,” in City Hall Park in New York, presented seven sculptures in a series that recalled the very relatable, personal relationship one might have with one’s own belongings. The works (with individual titles such as stunt, hoax, jinx, and mimic), although created of steel and fiberglass specifically for this exhibition, appeared like household objects precariously stacked. They seemed to be organized by someone who was, perhaps, too short to do so properly (chucking some overhead to the top of the pile, with fingers crossed). The white bunny-like fiberglass figures atop each sculpture add personality, humor: a calling card of sorts.

In the context of City Hall Park, the diagonals, the imbalances, and the specificities of these works really shone through, asking viewers to compare their individuality against the backdrop of the symmetrical, formal architecture of industry and government in every direction. The exhibition was very meaningful, given Barlow’s unexpected passing just a few months prior to its opening. It was an exceptional, heartfelt commemoration of Barlow, an unconventional and thoughtful powerhouse of 21st-century sculpture.

— Nora Lawrence

Manhattan, New York

Nairy Baghramian’s Scratching the Back continues the great series of reimagining of the four façade niches of the frieze of the Metropolitan Museum, presenting passersby with new interpretations of what that traditional frieze location could be in our contemporary moment. Baghramian’s outdoor sculptures often look incredible and alive—sometimes serene, other times monstrous—rolling down a slope alongside the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis, for instance; at the crest of a snowy hill at The Clark in Williamstown, Massachusetts; and gripping two flanking city walls outside the Venice Biennale.

At the Met, Baghramian has used bold combinations of colored planes and lopsided geometric shapes to great effect against the sandy stone façade of New York City’s storied museum, creating a viewing experience that gives readily to viewers passing by on the east side of Fifth Avenue, observing the four sculptures together, or climbing the steps to get close, taking in the sculptures’ pebbled surfaces and smooth lines of piping.

—Nora Lawrence

Osnabrück, Germany

Ibrahim Mahama was born in Tamale, Ghana; worked in the capital Accra; and studied at the University of Science and Technology in Kumasi, where he gained his BA, MFA, and PhD. In his practice as an artist, Mahama reclaims discarded materials, such as industrial furnishings, disused airplanes, and jute sack cloth, to create monumental, site-specific works of art. Coming to international recognition as part of “All the World’s Futures,” curated by Okwui Enwezor in 2015 for the 56th Venice Biennale, Mahama’s large-scale work in jute had immediate impact.

As a base material, jute carries colonial histories for many indigenous communities where natural resources such as coca, sugar, and rubber were controlled by imperialist and capitalist mechanisms and the communities around these resources were forever impacted. Through his use of the humble jute sack, and the many hands that engage in adorning and joining these sacks, Mahama deconstructs the architecture of Western colonial and economic systems. Through reclaiming and repurposing materials such as jute to express the relentlessness of imperialist and capitalist agendas, Mahama opens a discourse of a restorative nature. The participatory institutions of Europe, such as the Kunsthalle Osnabrück, Germany, appear transformed through this experience. Mahama continues on a route of self-determination, realizing further sociopolitical and economic potential for his local community whilst working alongside his fellow artists and arts community practitioners across Africa.

—Nathan Pōhio

Eddie Clemens grew up in Rotorua, in Aotearoa New Zealand, as a child of the late 1970s and early ’80s, so popular culture and the familiarity of spectacle might account for the stylish, distinctly strange, and humorous characteristics in his practice. Cognitive Reorientation (2022) draws inspiration from the Danish TV police drama Forbrydelsen (The Killing), deconstructing the production of an early scene in the first episode, where a car is pulled from a river.

Clemens plays with the artificiality of cinema, rearranging the elements of a murderous scene, a classic trope of Hollywood film noir like The Big Sleep (1946) and Psycho (1960), presenting a car suspended in the air, pouring water from the inside. Clemens’s work reminds us of “the imperfections and fallibility of memory” according to curator Jamie Hanton. His work was quickly embraced by the citizens of Ōtautahi Christchurch, as it utilized an otherwise abandoned site to become a thing of intelligence and style. Plus, it was dead funny.

— Nathan Pōhio

Megan Cope’s public art installation, entitled Whispers, was unveiled in September of this year at the Sydney Opera House, commissioned as part of the building’s 50th Birthday Festival. More than 85,000 oyster shells were collated through a year-long process of community workshops hosted on-site at the Opera House Forecourt, in community centers in Sydney and at the artist’s studio in Brisbane, breathing life into this incredibly site-specific, poignant, and lovingly crafted work.

The installation consists of three large-scale elements including 200 timber poles encrusted with oysters at the Northern Boardwalk, a 14-meter-long wall of oyster shells along the western side of the Opera House, and a large midden mound sited in front of Bennelong Restaurant. I nominated this work for its striking gravitas, its ability to stand its ground against the backdrop of the great Opera House architecture, its acknowledgment of First Nations history on this site, its ability to connect community and its potential to educate visitors about our country and how we engage with it.

In Cope’s own words: “All the works are informed by, and trace, six years of research into the history of and cultural relationship to Kinyingarra (oyster shells), from the vast reef constructions made by our Indigenous ancestors to the early lime-burning industries to the potential extinction of oyster reefs and impact of climate change. In the process they ask questions about how art and culture can heal Saltwater Country as well as our current relationship with the environment.”

—Natasha Smith

Brook Andrew, burbangbuwanha winha-nga-nha (Returned Ceremony of Memory)

Sharjah, United Arab Emirates