All Photos By Gail

There’s something undeniably arresting about encountering a giant, disembodied eye in the middle of the city —e specially one that seems to be watching from all directions at once. Installed near the iconic Flatiron Building in the Flatiron District, Charlotte Colbert’s Dreamland Sirens (2025) transforms a familiar urban crossroads into something far more surreal.

Rising from a sleek plinth, the sculpture takes the form of a single, oversized eye perched atop a fluid, mirror-polished silver stalk. The base reflects the city in a distorted panorama — pedestrians, traffic, and sky bending across its surface — while the eye itself becomes the undeniable focal point.

What makes it even more intriguing is its dual nature: from the south, the iris appears a deep, earthy brown; from the north, it shifts to a vivid, electric blue. It’s a subtle but powerful detail that rewards movement, encouraging viewers to circle the piece and experience it from multiple perspectives.

The eye is framed by glossy, droplet-like extensions, as if it’s melting or radiating energy—part sci-fi object, part surrealist relic. There’s a sense that it doesn’t just sit in the space; it observes, absorbs, and reflects it back. In a neighborhood defined by architectural history and constant motion, the sculpture introduces a pause—a moment of uncanny stillness amid the rush.

Colbert’s work often explores themes of perception, dreams, and the subconscious, and Dreamland Sirens fits squarely within that vision. Here, the act of seeing becomes the subject itself. Who is observing whom? Is the eye watching the city, or are we watching ourselves through it?

Placed against a backdrop of scaffolding and city flux, the sculpture feels especially resonant—like a futuristic totem planted in a landscape of transition. It’s bold, photogenic, and a little eerie in the best way, turning an everyday walk past the Flatiron into something closer to a dream sequence. Part of the larger Chasing Rainbows public art initiative, the installation is temporary — it’s on view through May 27th, 2026— making its presence feel all the more fleeting and special.