How pigeons clawed back their cultural cachet

If pigeons had a face pinned to their dovecote to squawk at, peck at and shit at, it would be that of Thomas Hoving, the director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art from 1967 to 1977.

For centuries prior, the pigeon had been held in lofty regard. After being domesticated by us somewhere between 5,000 and 10,000 years ago, they became messengers, ceremonial relics, fertiliser producers, smugglers, war heroes and an opulent source of food. Or, in some extreme cases like that of electric inventor Nikola Tesla, our romantic partners. “I loved that pigeon as a man loves a woman, and she loved me,” he once said about a rather special bird. Talk about pigeon fanciers.

But in 1966, Hoving, who at the time worked as NYC’s parks director, uttered a few words in a New York Times piece that would change the course of pigeon history forever. “Most persistent vandal,” he said, vilifying them as a risk to public health and blaming them for rising meningitis cases in the city. Then, he delivered the killer blow, a phrase that would echo in urban popular culture: “Rats with wings.”

From then on, pigeons have been pigeonholed as pests. They cause a nuisance and plague our streets. They eat our sandwiches. They shit on our pavements. With their Microsoft Paint gradient feathers, gormless eyes, grotesque feet and highly uncouth palate, the pigeon is at the bottom of the pecking order.

But now, the pigeon is taking flight again, ready to be appreciated in art and fashion. Suddenly, they’re flocking to social media feeds, taking prime positions in our wardrobes and plastering the walls of galleries rather than just loitering on the streets outside.

And they now even have their own statue to perch on. In New York, the city where they were once decried, artist Iván Argote is erecting a giant 18-foot monument of one on the High Line Plinth. “Pigeons are an integral part of urban life. They’ve lived alongside us for thousands of years, adapting and thriving in our cities. They often inhabit monuments because these are spaces where we can’t chase them away,” he explains. His sculpture to the urban stalwart aims to paint them in a more positive light. “What fascinates me about pigeons is that, despite being ever-present, they’re marginalised. They’re our constant companions in the city, yet we tend to despise them. That tension is something I wanted to explore and celebrate,” he continues.

Titled Dinosaur, the monument traces pigeons back to prehistoric times. “It’s a nod to their evolutionary lineage, as birds are the last living relatives of dinosaurs. It’s a reminder that these seemingly insignificant creatures have an ancient and powerful history,” Argote explains. He hopes visitors flock to it to see a birds-eye view of life. “It invites us to consider what pigeons might feel as we pass by them in the city. In a way, it reverses the physical relationship we usually have with them, giving them a sense of presence and power that we often overlook.”

Back in July, the London Museum showed off a brand new logo, featuring a pigeon shitting out a splat of scat to represent the “grit and glitter” of the city. “For over 1,000 years, pigeons have been part of London life and watched the city change and grow. Not everyone loves them but they are a fact of the city, a background to the hustle of London life,” says Sarah Duthie, the museum’s director of external relations. The redesign ruffled a few feathers. “It’s definitely got people talking! What’s been really rewarding for us is to see how it’s inspired both joy and debate. The pigeon has been explored as a symbol of freedom, endurance, and immigration to the city,” Duthie explains.

The pigeon also recently became a cover bird, appearing with suited-and-booted LCD Soundsystem tribute act The Dare on the front of PAPER magazine. “Pigeons are real New York legends. It doesn’t matter who you are, they’re unavoidable and the great equalisers,” says editor Justin Moran. “Sometimes the most obvious creative decision is the best, so it felt appropriate for three very New York things to link up for one classic image: PAPER, which has been documenting NYC culture since 1984, The Dare and real pigeons.” It follows in the webbed footsteps of The New York Pigeon, photographer Andrew Garn’s excellently characterful series of pigeon portraits from 2018.

 

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Fashion designer Jonathan Anderson has been tapping into the pigeon’s luxurious past over the last few years, with his instantly-iconic pigeon clutch. “Pigeons are so inherently unglamorous, it’s funny to turn it into a functional object like a clutch bag that’s typically seen as quite glamorous. They really are the most successful bird!” he said in 2022 when he first previewed the bag. For last year’s On Foot exhibition at Offer Waterman, Jonathan Anderson’s pigeons took over a garden space and his bag was reimagined by artist Anthea Hamilton, giving it a fresh lick of hydro-dipped paint.

The king of the pigeons, though, remains Duke Riley. The artist and figurative pigeon fancier used to literally live in a pigeon coop for $25 a month and now owns over 700 birds. For his ‘Fly By Night’ show, which took place in Brooklyn in 2016 and London in 2018, he sent 2,000 homing pigeons carrying LED lights into the night sky. Previously, his work Trading with the Enemy saw Riley fly pigeons from Key West to Havana smuggling Cuban cigars and for Now Those Days Are Gone, Riley embroidered portraits of 1,000 different pigeons complete with unique names and the loft in which they were bred. Riley, sadly, could not be reached by Plaster. We’ll try messenger pigeon next time.

Obviously, pigeon art isn’t a fledgling concept. Ever since pigeons and humans have been around, they have been represented, from ancient Egyptian wall paintings through to the pigeon NFTs of today (yes, they exist). Pablo Picasso – whose father was a pigeon fancier and painter – was partial to a pigeon painting. Lucian Freud daubed them, as seen in Jonathan Anderson’s exhibition. And legendary pigeon keeper and East Village painter Anton van Dalen, who sadly passed away this summer, spent his life stylishly rendering them. This rich art history is part of the reason why the London Museum changed its logo. “[You can see pigeons] through the museum’s collection, where they have been inspiration for Roman figurines through to Victorian Valentine’s cards,” Duthie says.

Many of us still despise pigeons – see Jesse Darling’s use of anti-pigeon spikes for last year’s Turner Prize as a reminder of the architecture we design to shoo them away. Ecologist Rob Dunn once spoke of the “pigeon paradox” – the strange phenomenon that humans hate the most common creatures we encounter. Now, in art at least, we’re falling for our feathered friends all over again.

Perhaps, it’s linked to our collective desire to touch grass and enjoy more nature. Dwellings, on right now at South London Gallery, points to the avian craze with its range of commissioned bird boxes in collaboration with Flock Together, the ace birdwatching collective for people of colour. And even if King Charles has flown the pigeon racing nest, young pigeon fanciers are on the rise, thanks to the pastime spreading on TikTok.

But there’s also something aesthetically alluring about the pigeon which seems very now, a liminal animal stuck at a crossroads; they simultaneously span low culture and high culture, the city and the countryside, the past and the present. They are, after all, actual artists, didn’t you know. Aside from the fact that pigeons can see more colours than us thanks to UV perception, they also, according to one study, even know their Picassos from their Monets. They are the true poets of the city, perceiving everything with beady eyes, digesting every avenue of our urbanite and superterranean existence with an attitude, aptitude and altitude.

“I feel they bear witness to both our most remarkable achievements and our most foolish actions. We often laugh at pigeons because of their odd behaviours in the city, but I can imagine them mocking us as well, especially when we engage in senseless acts like war. They live on the edges of society,” Argote thinks.

After all, they are not just among us, they are like us. Loft living aesthetes trying to make it in the city, vying for space. They love elevated architecture. They enjoy a Greggs sausage roll from time to time. They like sending lots of messages. They gaze into the void of the city to try to find meaning. Perhaps, we are all pigeon. And we’re coming for you, Hoving.