It was a gorgeous spring day, which seems less than a memory in today’s rain. But a closer look revealed an opportunistic bouquet of lips, perched above a guerilla fern on the wall. It reminds me of a rougher take on Phillip George’s remarkable Edge of Empire show at Breenspace.

This graffiti on the corner of Kells Lane and Langley Street, Darlinghurst, seems like a way to claw that back. Yes, the police visit our neighbourhood. See, look at this permanent bit of police tape, the paint on the kerb seems to say.

It’s by Will Coles, whose cute teddy bear and mobile phone appeared on Crown Street in February. The bear said “Culture,” while his other work says things like “Nothing” and “Burden” and “unfinished.”

Look closer though. It’s actually nothing of the sort.

Bizarrely enough, it’s a research project. Part of the Visualising Research class at UTS, Poster: More Than A Gaze aims to “examine the potential of the poster as a ‘public and communicative’ medium in a public space.” They’re blogging too.

It’s 12 A4 pages pasted up alongside the typical band and club posters – and, although I used to have a radar for those things, I wonder how many people are tuned in? I’d be interested to see what, if any, reaction it got.

I walked by on Friday morning, as council workers tore plants out of their planters and pots, and tossed them into the back of their trucks.

They plant those flowers, take them out, plant them, erect new planters, take them away, without any real connection to what’s going on with the plants – they seem pretty healthy. Still, those planters have been strange from the moment they appeared.

I walked past later, at about midnight, and a fence had been erected around the Taylor Square public toilet. I peeked over the top, and this is what I saw.

I’m pretty sure it’s Dale Miles’s Underworld (the latest in the Taylor Square Plinth project – we blogged about Louisa Dawson’s work in October). He’s shown widely since graduating from the National Art School several years ago – see more here.

He says it’s a response:

to the mysteriousness of the shape of the space enclosed by the entrance fence and the two descending staircases. It is the mystery of the void inverted, the spider exiting its funnel.

The original idea is this. More pictures to come.

But it’s not just Bourke Street, and it’s not just those two.

Whoever is Premier of New South Wales next week might well front up to a press conference on Macquarie Street and talk about getting tough on graffiti. But on the streets this year, Sydney has witnessed a huge resurgence in public art — for its own sake. We’re enchanted by the stuff because it’s ephemeral, because it adds an unexpected magic to our streets, and mostly because it’s absolutely obviously clear that the artist made it for us.

That’s the beginning of a piece I wrote, covering a lot of great stuff that’s had first airing here, you can find the rest at New Matilda.

It gets cleaned a couple of times a week, according to the council worker who flicked the switch.

“You wouldn’t believe what foreign material winds up in here,” he said. “Hungry Jack’s burgers, doner kebabs, you name it.”

He reached up and screwed up one of the fountain’s spokes and on went the water.

Braving the chlorinated breeze, it was a perfect time to capture the fountain without its characteristic splash.

I asked one of the guys what it was they were working on. He told me it was for a “temporary art thing”.

Intriguing. Watch this space.

Three days ago, we caught their yarn going up in Fitzroy Gardens, but they’ve been working around the clock with a crane and a giant ladder, and the results are spectacular.

I love the idea of public art, but all too often the stark modernist blocks and balls in our public squares seem more alienating than intriguing. They stand so defiantly, inscrutable.

I Heart Kings Cross is something quite different. Warm, friendly – probably a bit smelly after all the rain – each piece of crochet and cross-stitch is so obviously made by someone.

It’s glorious and wonderful.

A pair of eyes are ogling across at a bikini-clad pole (that’s at the pedestrian crossing where Darlinghurst Road becomes Macleay Street), and, as if to underscore the knitters’ take on public art, they’ve wrapped one of the discs in Dennis Wolanski’s Angled Wheels of Fortune in a relaxed, loose weave – “Chill out, ’80s sculptor.”

The police station has been drafted, too, and the entire spectacle now stretches a little further down Macleay Street and up Darlinghurst Road, though the focus remains on Fitzroy Gardens.

This is one of the most unexpectedly glorious things I’ve seen in ages. Walk by, if you can.