Global street art: what the walls taught me

Par Gabriel Goldberg 2 April 2026 5 min read

For over thirty years of professional travel across the globe, I have developed a tenacious habit, almost a ritual. As soon as I leave the bustle of an airport or the cosy comfort of my hotel , I look up. We have collectively developed the bad habit of crossing our cities with blinkers on. We walk with our noses glued to our screens, perceiving public space as a mere transit zone that needs to be crossed as quickly as possible. Yet a city's true identity is never found in glossy brochures or in the alignment of its luxury boutiques. It is written in spray paint, stencils and mosaics, directly on its walls. Street art is the vibrant pulse of a city. It is a spontaneous urban dressing, sometimes illegal, often ephemeral, that tells with brutal honesty the hopes, idols and rebellions of those who live there. Brussels: The illusion of luck versus the demand for execution This reflection crystallised recently during a simple walk through my home base, Brussels. My gaze was caught by a scene of biting irony. On the ground floor of a nondescript facade, the garish neon signs of the national lottery were lined up. Lotto, Euro Millions, Win for Life. These signs sell the ultimate fantasy of our time: the promise of wealth acquired through pure chance, without a single drop of sweat. But just above this altar to passivity, nestled in the frame of a blind window, a little red alien mosaic was watching us. It is the work of Invader, the world-renowned French artist. The contrast is…