This is my third (and last) photo essay of street-art faces. Below is the text I ran with the first one—I see no reason to rewrite it. (And here’s part two.)

I’m of two minds about graffiti. If it’s just a tag, a spray-painted scribble, I think it’s loathsome. But when someone actually tries to say something, to get something across, I have to admit I like it. What would Tribeca or Soho look like without it? These days, a significant part of the charm of Soho, in particular, comes from the street art. Without it, Soho would be Americana Manhasset. (I might feel differently if I owned street-level property.)

This photo essay is of the faces I’ve spotted in Tribeca over the past few months—most were drawn or painted, a few were stickers. The urge to draw human faces strikes me as so primal, reminiscent of cave paintings.

Click to enlarge.