Drivers in Wichita started noticing something subtly strange a few years ago. It was remarkably similar to seeing a well-known landmark that had moved a few feet overnight. Slim human figures emerged at intersections and along medians, neatly sliced from plastic signs, standing where campaign slogans or sale notices typically vied for attention.
Some initially believed that there were no real traffic signs, which is especially concerning at four-way intersections where habits are important and hesitation can be expensive. However, a closer examination showed that these were invitations to stop mentally, even if only for a heartbeat, while driving by at thirty miles per hour, rather than commands to stop or move on.
| Item | Details |
|---|---|
| What People Noticed | Stop‑sign‑like figures appearing, then disappearing, along Wichita roads |
| Who Created Them | An anonymous local artist known as Kanbee |
| Materials Used | Discarded political signs and old yard signs |
| Where They Appeared | Public right‑of‑way between sidewalks and streets |
| Why They Were Removed | City sign codes prohibit temporary signs on public property |
| Why They Returned | The artist repeatedly reinstalled them as part of the project |
| How Locals Described Them | “Sand mandalas of Wichita” |
| Credible Reference | Wichita Eagle reporting on Kanbee’s roadside art |
Their creator, Kanbee, chooses to remain anonymous in a way that feels especially avant-garde in a time when visibility is frequently currency. He transformed divisive messaging into simplified human forms using discarded political and yard signs, removing faces and slogans to create outlines that were remarkably eye-catching and surprisingly approachable.
The figures were purposefully positioned in a narrow legal gray area between the sidewalk and the street. They intentionally broke city sign ordinances, which stipulate that temporary signs must not be placed on public property. They were removed by county workers in a timely and effective manner, and their absence was frequently only discovered when ordinary drivers noticed something subtly endearing was missing.
Then, as expected, the numbers came back. Their recurrent appearances, sometimes in the same location and other times miles away, created a pattern that seemed almost conversational, a call and response between individual expression and civic order. This rhythm eventually found its way into the composition, emphasizing how public areas are negotiated rather than fixed.
Kanbee described drawing people “stripped of all distinctions” in artist statements distributed through middlemen. This statement struck a particularly powerful chord during election seasons, when the original signs would otherwise be thrown away and forgotten. He turned political trash into something noticeably better by repurposing those materials, shifting the focus from persuasion to presence.
Reactions for residents changed over time. Curiosity replaced initial bewilderment, followed by a sense of regional pride. Sightings were tracked in online discussions with the same fervor typically reserved for pop-up food trucks or migrating birds. As a commentary on advertising, community, or just the delight of seeing something unexpected on a routine drive, the work’s meaning became incredibly flexible.
On a calm afternoon, I noticed that I was slowing down as I stood close to one installation and realized how infrequently a piece of plastic next to the road requests anything more than compliance.
For their part, city officials had a firm but surprisingly generous attitude toward the art. While stressing safety and compliance, public statements acknowledged the creativity involved while maintaining consistency in enforcement. The strategy was very effective, upholding regulations without intensifying hostilities, and it may have helped the project continue subtly rather than completely ending it.
The installations’ transience was what made them especially helpful to Wichita’s cultural fabric. The figures served as a reminder to onlookers that meaningful things don’t always have to be permanent, much like a swarm of bees briefly settling before moving on. Their value was reaffirmed by their disappearance, which made every return feel subtly joyous.
Over time, the project also improved public space discussions. The presence of art highlighted the level of trust and attention that daily movement demands for drivers who are already navigating intersections without conventional signage. In this way, the numbers did not divert attention; rather, they raised awareness—a result that many traffic engineers would find especially creative.
Kanbee showed how creative reuse can be both emotionally impactful and environmentally conscious by turning discarded materials into transient encounters. Even though it was inexpensive and had a small environmental impact, the effect persisted and was reduced to nothing more than a brief moment of attention—often the hardest thing to earn.
Wichita’s streets will undergo additional changes in the upcoming years, including enlarged stop signs, flashing signals, and improved intersections that address safety concerns. In light of this, the recollection of these transient characters feels hopeful rather than nostalgic, serving as a reminder that creativity and control don’t have to conflict.
They demonstrated that experimentation is possible even in rigid systems as long as it is carried out carefully and with a sense of communal space. Perhaps this is why the concept behind the figures is so dependable, even after they have disappeared, resurfacing whenever someone observes a particular area of the city acting a bit oddly.
