You may know the landscape of Pittsburgh by its hills, rivers, roads, buildings, and trees, but the eye is strongly drawn to the text and symbols of the signs that comfort with familiarity, that irritate you with their distractions, that please you with their symmetry, or that illustrate the economic condition of a neighborhood. Signs are always trying to say something. Signs make our spaces a mongrelization of type-styles, graphics, and fashions: The futuristic becomes the modern becomes the dated becomes the retro. The passage of time provides the subtexts of rust, faded paint, and delamination. Signs are necessarily brash, democratic, and confessional. But I’ve said too much. Let the signs speak for themselves.
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