There is nothing personal against the color yellow, but let us be honest: we were saturated by the monotony.
We love yellow, but not when it is used tastelessly and to mask corruption. We like the yellow that is natural to Lima, like the one in the header image—that earthy tone, the tone of every sunset, the one that shines like the sun. In recent years, our city has been forcibly invaded by this color: yellow staircases, yellow bridges, yellow walls, yellow railings... perhaps too much. And even if certain works were not yellow themselves, the intentions behind them carried a distinct whiff of that hue.
“Yellow can be radiant or hurtful,” as Eva Heller writes in the psychology of color. It was therefore inevitable that the radiance would fade, and that the aesthetic banner of the recent municipal administration (2015–2018) would turn hurtful—driven by its short-sighted urban planning, its lack of regard for public space and green areas, its awkward silence and refusal to engage with citizens, and its apathy and individualism, among other failings. Ultimately, this yellowish quality was no longer confined to the plastic paint that branded its works like the mark of Zorro; it was felt in the air, in every gesture, and even in its silence. Everything became blurred in yellow, cast against a harsh black-and-white reality that stripped away our naturally colorful possibilities.
