"I wanted to create an action that would bring people together, that they could do something that is positive in the communities," Taube said in an interview last week. "I came to cleaning because of its ability to make a mark."
That, and the broom is sort of like a giant paintbrush. It was a natural conclusion.
Yesterday, Taube worked with the East team: about two dozen people, some with kazoos, who gathered on the corner of Washington and Madison streets, near Johns Hopkins Hospital. Most of them were college-age, but the fliers Taube had spread around the community brought out a couple of people who worship in the area.
Ardie Royster heard about the event from New Cornerstone Baptist Church. She brought her 14-year-old granddaughter to participate.
"It's a good thing, the streets can be cleaner," Royster said. "I don't like driving over glass and nails and all that kind of crap."
Across the street, Paulette Jones was on her way to work, but had to stop and stare at the group.
"I have no idea" what they're doing, she said. When she was told it was an art project, she deemed it a good thing. Jones had heard about the golden fence brouhaha, and thought perhaps this would be an effort the city could embrace.
"There's been a lot of controversy about the rest of the park [art projects]," conceded John Corrigan, a 36-year-old MICA grad student on the East team. "But this project actually brings people in."
The school's exhibition in Mount Vernon Place is linked to a maps exhibit on display at the Walters Art Museum. Ten student artists created works, delivering their plans in December and getting the real work under way after that, Taube said. Freeman's fence served as a sort of protection for the art works as they were being installed in the square's four parks.
"I'm really impressed at how many people the artist was able to [infuriate]," said Becca Cohn, 23.
She was part of the North team and is a member of the Barrage Band Orchestra, which she called Baltimore's "new radical marching band." She was also wearing a bear mask and pink leggings and riding in a grocery cart with her bass drum.
And while she was moved by the ability to anger the masses, it was mostly because the ire got people talking about - and energized by - art.
"It's Baltimore, people are used to insanity and eccentricity in Baltimore," the top-hat-wearing Doug Retzler, 54, said, clutching his push broom, which was decorated with silver fringe. "As silly as it might be, it brings people together."
About 200 people gathered around Taube's monument yesterday, while the bands played and the kazooers kazooed. Parents danced with their children, photographers snapped pictures, and at least a dozen people hugged Taube, clapping him on the back and congratulating him on a job well done.
"This was hard work but fun work, and we did it together," he had shouted to the crowd moments before.
Taking a moment to let it sink in, this is how he felt: "Amazing," he said. "I believe it. Yeah."
tricia.bishop@baltsun.com
