Felix Morelo: “Good Luck Spot” Artist

By Jack Lourie

When I met Felix Morelo, he was sitting on one of the benches that connects the center of Washington Square Park to its Northeast corner. His legs were stretched into a chalk-drawn circle, containing the declaration: “Good Luck Spot.” Under his right arm was a box of cardboard slabs, each with their own miniature scrawled Good Luck Spots for sale. Don’t ask me how I knew, but I went up to him and asked if he was the guy behind these installations. My intuition didn’t fail me; he said yes.

Good Luck Spots are a street art series drawn by Morelo. With the pavement as his canvas, he chalks circles across Union Square, Washington Square Park, and Tompkins Square Park, inviting oncoming pedestrians into a moment of decision: step in, or avoid. Each one of these circles holds declarations like his classic “Good Luck Spots.” Other circles say, “Bad Luck Spot” or “Kissing Spot.” Over the past few years, Morelo has added “Charlie Kirk Spots,” “Israel/Palestine Spots,” and “Suicide Spots.”

“Sometimes I see it like Clark Kent and Superman,” said Morelo. “I have this public life, you know; I’m provoking and I’m being loud about it. Then there’s the private side, where I live in Queens, in the small little room, and it’s quiet out there and I just try to be lowkey. Many times, I need to force myself to go out and be social, just to stay healthy and balanced enough.”

Morelo has overcome homelessness five times, and his main financial expenditures are supporting his mother in Miami, and his dad in Colombia. His sister, based in the Bronx, helps too. He wishes that they would make more of an effort to see each other.

Through Morelo’s personal resiliency, artistic intuition, and desire to connect, Good Luck Spots were born. He doesn’t just draw circles. He transforms the pavement — the literal shared ground we all walk on — into a moment where we make a choice. Morelo makes all who see his work, from the apolitical to the activists, engage in performance art. Because of this, I believe his installations may be some of the most complex street art of our time.

We first interact with his spots through our eyes. We see his words and have an immediate — often visceral — reaction. This confrontation, either positive or negative, continues down to our feet when we face our own superstitions around how we engage. We make a personal decision on whether stepping in or walking around the circle symbolizes endorsement or refutation. Then we continue onward, reflecting on Morelo’s decision to write those words on the pavement, and our perception on how we reacted.

When Morelo wants to spread positivity, he draws spots that bring joy. Kids will enthusiastically jump into his Good Luck Spots, and people who pretend they aren’t superstitious will slyly angle themselves to at least get one foot in the circle. When he’s doing these installations, Morelo is manifesting happiness. They appeal to a broad audience, and when he talks about them, he smiles.

But such lighthearted call-and-response sketches represent one portion of his general intent. Morelo also draws Suicide Spots. Who is he to evoke either someone’s worst memory, or most desensitized fear?

These controversial spots, and others, have one linkage: they point to a topic that is taboo. When we see a Suicide Spot, we may assume he is talking to us, rather than commenting on what he is noticing in the world, or experiencing himself. Morelo’s outcries speak to that isolation that we seem to be generating, (and neglecting), as a society.

“I empathize, sympathize, on how it is to feel despair, you know, and loneliness and hunger and anger and injustice, right?” Morelo said. “But I do it out of spite. Because people are not listening. People are ignoring. People want to look away. They don’t want to see your pain.”

Once chalk hits pavement, his viewers get the opportunity to share in how it is interpreted. Morelo hopes his spots will make people more likely to reach out for help. But, he gets death threats from those who feel differently. The truth is that both he, and his critics, are likely generalizing an estimated outcome that neither can control.

When Morelo started making Good Luck Spots 17 years ago, it was just about spreading the love. It was easier to understand. But now that we know him, he is asking for more from us. He’s asking for us to reflect on our presuppositions, our sadness, and our anger, even if it is directed at him. Why? Because it is honest.

“Bad things are going to happen,” said Morelo. “When do you stop telling an artist what to do and not to do? And what harm is there from censoring an artist? Shouldn’t we be thinking that there’s a reason why this art is being made by this artist at this particular time? Nobody has ever done this before, but it is here now, and we have to confront it.”