The Neighborhood Sculptures are Up!

From Memphis Magazine, May 2002
Marking Their Territory

Some neighborhoods erect signs to let folks know who they are. But one Midtown community — The Tucker-Jefferson Neighborhood Association — is taking the idea a step further. They’ve had sculptures created by artist Roy Tamboli and are placing them at neighborhood boundaries.

With materials purchased using a $5,000 grant from the Memphis Community Development Partnership and other funds raised by local businesses, Tamboli has donated his time to the project. He fashioned each of the four, nine-foot-tall structures from corten steel, which won’t rust, while his wife, Carol Buchman, designed the animals that adorn each piece.

“We’ve got lots of animals in the neighborhood,” says Tamboli, who lives in Tucker-Jefferson, “including cats, dogs, squirrels, raccoons, chipmunks, and, of course, birds. And we felt like animals give the signs a friendly, cheerful touch.” Each sign took about two months to complete.

Located between Overton Park and Overton Square, the turn-of-the-century neighborhood’s boundaries run between Poplar and Madison on the north and south, and Cooper and McLean on the east and west. The signs have been or will soon be placed at four locations: Brighton Bank at Tucker and Madison, the College of Art Building at Tucker and Poplar, and in the yards of private residences at Jefferson and Cooper, and Jefferson and McLean.

Stacey Greenberg, president of the neighborhood association, says the area is made up of artists, musicians, and professionals, as well as veterans, retirees, and young families. The neighborhood association was started in the 1970s, became inactive for a decade, and was revived in 2000, she adds.

“We needed an identity,” says Greenberg. “Something waterproof, something unusual. With these sculptures people won’t have to ask where we are. People will see the signs.”

Since the sculptures resemble a basketball goal, we had to ask if kids might use them to practice lay-ups and slam dunks. “That could happen,” laughs Tamboli.

— Marilyn Sadler