Frank Hanavan's Hoboken is wet. In his streetscapes, surfaces glisten. The sky is rarely glowering, but it does seem full; ready to have something to say, or wrapping up something that it is busy saying. The canopy of foliage that hangs over the streetcorners feels saturated with moisture. Even the shadows on the sidewalk are puddle blue. Businesses have their umbrellas open. A few people do, too.
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