ART IS MEDICINE: The case for public art as our most essential prescription
The case for public art as our most essential prescription
Amy Hausmann, Executive Director, Maine Arts Commission
Robert Brochu’s LANDMARK at the University of Maine at Fort Kent. Its three sides carry the phrases KNOW THIS LAND, FIND YOUR PATH, and MAKE YOUR MARK. Copyright Robert Brochu, 2025. Original owned by the University of Maine System. Photo by Heidi Carter.
At a moment when loneliness, inequity, and eroding public trust have become real public health crises, the World Health Organization’s landmark review of more than 3,000 studies confirmed what many of us already knew: art is medicine.
A poem glimpsed on a crowded subway platform, live music echoing through Times Square, a mosaic shimmering underground — these moments interrupt stress, fear, and isolation for millions of commuters every day. Public art helps people feel calmer, safer, and more connected, even in chaotic places. I spent twelve years running New York City’s subway percent-for-art program before landing in Maine. That conviction has only deepened.
New York’s subway art program launched in 1985, when both the transit system and the city were struggling. Public art became part of rebuilding trust in shared space. But the idea stretches back further. When the first subway opened in the early 1900s, stations featured mosaics, vaulted ceilings, and handcrafted terra cotta to make New Yorkers feel dignified and safe going underground.
At Margaret Chase Smith Community School in Skowhegan, Maine artist Antje Roitzsch created Flight Over the River Valley, a mobile based on the local river hawk and its river habitat. Photo courtesy Maine Arts Commission.
Maine established its percent-for-art program in 1979, bringing work into schools, public buildings, and civic spaces across the state. The results reveal what public art can do: In Lewiston, a joyful mural by Rachel and Ryan Adams welcomes immigrants, residents, and visitors to the Lisbon Street neighborhood, honoring those who are sometimes overlooked. Antje Roitzsch’s kinetic mobile in a Skowhegan school fills hallways with rainbows and shadows. In Van Buren, Leah Cook’s community mural project gathers people around local stories and shared dreams, rebuilding the civic trust that frays when people feel isolated.
This summer, Shared Tables, Shared Stories takes that idea further. Developed by the Maine Arts Commission, Community Plate, and Maine Humanities Council to mark the nation’s 250th anniversary, the program hosts free potluck suppers at seven sites across the state. Rooted in traditions ranging from Indigenous foodways to Maine bean suppers, each gathering combines food, art, and storytelling to spark connection and conversation about who we are and where we’re headed. Participants will contribute recipes and memories to a commemorative cookbook. A meal shared with strangers who become friends is also public art.
Tekαkαpimək Contact Station atop Lookout Mountain welcomes visitors to Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument, within the Penobscot Nation’s homeland and culturally significant to the Wabanaki people. Photo by James Florio.
One of the most inspiring projects I’ve encountered in Maine is Tekαkαpimək, the new contact station at Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument. Created through collaboration between Wabanaki artists and public and private partners, it brings together art, culture, land, and history in ways that feel deeply grounded, connecting past, present, and future in this place we now call Maine.
Tekαkαpimək was designed by Saunders Architecture, Reed Hilderbrand Landscape Architecture, and WeShouldDoItAll, with the Elliotsville Foundation, the Wabanaki Nations, Tuhura Communications, Erin Hutton Projects, and the National Park Service. All Wabanaki Cultural Knowledge and Intellectual Property shared within this project is owned by the Wabanaki Nations. Photo by James Florio.
This is what public art does. It helps us feel seen and heard, connected to place, to one another, and to something larger than ourselves. When loneliness, inequity, and broken trust are threats to public health, that matters. Art may be our most essential medicine.
Explore the full Summer 2026 issue of The Shared Space below.
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