Atle Østrem has returned to Stavanger after 11 years in Oslo.
The muralist and fine artist finds himself in the right place at the right time – a flourishing career, a new high-profile street art festival to co-direct, and a commitment to family that anchors him in this city he was born and raised in. Formerly a graffiti writer and owner of a graffiti supply store, Atle is represented by galleries and creates a dynamic blend of urban narratives and personal expression that delves into humanity and society, often with hidden undertones. His unique characters, a fusion of humans and monkeys, serve as enigmatic messengers with possibly profound stories.
Artley’s iconic characters originated from his graffiti days in the early 1990s, when he first experimented with illustrated characters as street tags. Following an arrest in 1999 that momentarily halted his graffiti endeavors, Atle channeled graffiti’s energy into a new form of expression, resulting in his hybrid characters. He employs them to prompt contemplation of modern dystopian themes and everyday idiosyncratic ones as well.
“I think for me, graffiti was like an adventure. There were many elements – the actual painting… Like, it was my whole life, you know. Back then, when I was a youth, graffiti was exciting. You’d have to find walls, and scope out the situation. I painted on trains also, so I’d have to scope out maybe the train yard, and see if there are any security guards there. And you would have to do it at nighttime. You’re sort of living like a double life because you don’t tell everyone that you’re doing it. The whole thing was like an adventure for a period of my life. Working in the studio the artwork allows me to get the satisfaction out of self-expression. Yeah. My thoughts or my feelings get an outlet – and I can put them into my painting.”
Themes of control, individuality, and a looming dark forecast for humanity reappear throughout his paintings and popular prints. Characters appear as puppeteers and puppets, representing power dynamics and coerced conformity. In “Dystopia,” for example, he portrays a bleak, controlled society contrasted against a vibrant backdrop, inviting introspection on societal norms, surveillance, and individualism.
Transitioning from graffiti to canvas enabled Atle to infuse his personal emotions and narratives into his work. This theme reverberates through his art, reflecting a sometimes delicate balance between control and freedom, power and vulnerability. His experiences as a father are a recurring motif, highlighting his son as a pivotal force within their family dynamic. One canvas, called “Mover and Shaker”, appears as a family portrait to illustrate his current state of mind with a 2-year-old in the house.
I try to use humor in my work as well. So I think of myself now as a father with a small son. Whatever my son wants to do, you do. He’s the mover and the shaker of our family. It’s chaotic at times to have small kids,” he smiles. “So I think that’s where the title and text comes from. It’s like ‘whatever he says, goes.’”
In this Nordic city of around 130,000, Atle Østrem’s artworks enjoy popularity among the skateboard and graffiti community and older audiences turned on by the rebellious spirit and a bit of counterculture. His meticulous attention to detail, deliberate strokes, and vibrant color palette resonate with audiences. The character’s expressions arouse curiosity, while text and symbolism add layers of storytelling – all without overt confrontation.
Atle views his artistic journey as adaptable and transformed, evolving from a graffiti artist to a fine artist and adjusting from a nocturnal painter to a family-oriented creator.
“I had been used to sleeping late – maybe waking up at noon, you know?” he says as he describes incorporating childcare into his art-making routine. “Now I get up earlier, and I take my son to daycare. Then I go back home, eat breakfast, have a nap if I’m tired, work in the studio for two or three hours, go pick up my son, and pick up my girlfriend from work. We eat dinner together, have a few hours to play with my son, and stuff like that. And then I can work after he has gone to bed.”
This ability to navigate both the weighty, serious characters in dark worlds and the nuances of familial bonds is a testament, perhaps, to his resilience. It may be the influence of all the reality-TV programs that he listens to while painting.
“I’m a huge fan, or not a fan, but I like reality shows,” he admits a bit sheepishly. “Yeah. Like drama, like where people are arguing and stuff. We have Scandinavian versions of shows like the American ‘Survivor,’” he says.
“People form alliances, and they try to vote someone out, stuff like that. I love that. It’s sort of like brain-dead television. You don’t have to watch the screen all the time. – just whenever some people are shouting at each other, now it’s something exciting. You glance at it a little bit, and then you can continue working and just listen to it. I also listen to music – I always listen to something while working.”
From his past struggles with Norway’s anti-graffiti laws to his present role as an artist, organizer of the “Nice Surprise” street art festival, and family man, Atle’s evolution is evident and impressive. His humor-infused artworks encapsulate a spectrum of emotions and viewpoints if you care to decode them, inviting viewers to explore his unique view of the human experience.
Tito Ferrara, potentially the first Brazilian street artist to create in Norway, and his assistant, swiftly executed a remarkable feat – crafting a composition of two powerful jaguars adorned with his favorite symbols and talismans. This endeavor unfolded during his few days here Nice Surprise Festival in Stavanger. Stretching across 30 meters, the artwork is an embodiment of graphic prowess, emanating a vibrant and muscular energy that deeply captivates. His execution underscores not only speed but also precision and an ardent artistic fervor.
Speaking on this hillside street in front of the mural, Tito Ferrara shared his sentiments and aspiration here, saying, “I want to bring some Brazilian energy to Stavanger to stay here when I leave.” Continuing, he added, “That’s why these are Brazilian jaguars. And this is the biggest freshwater fish from our rivers – they are about three meters long.”
Beginning his artistic journey as a graffiti writer at 15, Ferrara’s current wellspring of inspiration draws from a diverse array of artistic disciplines. Japanese animation, botanical illustration, graffiti lettering, old-school computer graphics seen on television and film, as well as the Pixação he regularly encounters gracing the walls of São Paulo, his native city – all these elements coalesce to form his unique creative style. This fusion, representative of a digitally interconnected and culturally diverse world, accompanies him to cities like Amsterdam, Lisbon, and Toronto, and just before arriving in Stavanger, he was immersed in a project in Italy. The ongoing collaboration of styles and influences is as cultural as it is autobiographical.
“In Brazil, especially Sao Paulo, there’s a lot of immigration from Japan since the beginning of the century – and a lot of Italian immigration as well. So I am half Japanese and half Italian and all Brazilian. And I really like to put this into my work also because Brazil, it’s this mess,” he laughs. As he explains, his Italian name is interpreted as a Japanese 3D tag floating on the spotted fur of one of the Jaguars. “I like very much to use the letters also as textures.”
When discussing the amalgamation of different elements within his art, we ask, “So in many ways, this represents all of your different interests and styles. You have graffiti, Japanese figurative forms, indigenous people, the animal world, symbols of power?”
Confirming, he answered, “Yes,” and then elaborated, “And the Japanese flower and the fire snake. And I really like to draw it as a flower and as a symbol of Japan. This is all of me.” As for the snake, he explained, “It’s a part of me – a snake on fire. Yes. That’s a legend in Amazon and he is called ‘Tata.’ He is a snake on fire and he is also the protector of the forest,” he said. Now in Stavanger, he hopes Tata will also extend his protection to Norwegian forests as well.
“Uh, they’re toilet rolls,” Miel says plaintively when asked what are the mysterious shapes that reappear throughout this newly painted mural for Nice Surprise Festival in Stavanger. You shouldn’t be surprised, though – he was setting up some figure studies with his young son, who decided to keep himself entertained with the unusual/usual household item while his father set up some photos.
“I don’t know. I was photographing my son, um, and took these from him, uh, with him looking through the holes of the toilet rolls.” The sparrows fit nicely, he says, possibly inspired by the themes of freedom, autonomy, nesting, and natural beauty. Later he looked at the shots of his son and decided to include him in triplicate.
In a captivating twist of street art photography fate, our lens wizard, Jaime Rojo, found himself at the perfect moment to capture an echo of this mural in everyday life. Just as the final layers were drying on the wall to be frozen in time, a local resident nonchalantly strolled into the frame, proudly carrying a tower of toilet paper on his shoulder. Ah, the marvel of the mundane! As our pal, Carlo is fond of saying, artistic sparks often arise from the everyday tapestry of life, the quotidian. So, why not in this very spot?
Nestled within the embrace of these sleek, modern ivory apartment complexes, this newly unreal creation will be a visual companion for many here for the foreseeable future. The denizens of these chic abodes hold the ultimate gavel on this whimsical medley of influences and components; all swirled together in a soft, ethereal palette of light and shadow.
After all, the residents here get to decide what inspires them. So far, we have witnessed that the reviews of this one are quite positive when opinions are sought. Particularly those of a woman who calls herself Guro, who stops by to enthuse at the top of her lungs at Miel as he paints three stories above us.
“I live over there, right there. So I open my door, and I want to look at this.” Without any unsolicited advice from folks standing nearby her regarding the content or inspiration or how to measure it against art canons or political winds, she gives her opinion and observations about what she sees before her.
“He must love birds. He must have a connection to them. They come to him so freely. Maybe he’s been feeding them. Maybe he’s been raising them. Maybe,” she says. It is a thoughtful assessment. She says she didn’t know there was a new street art festival called “Nice Surprise” this year, nor that this mural was part of it.
“You see all the birds?” she asks a visitor with a glint in her eye. “They are relaxed. They’re happy wherever they are. And that’s how people should be. You know, everybody deserves to feel secure and loved and taken care of and not feel frightened by the surroundings.” For her, this is a canvas for emotions.
“It is just so wonderful. And it’s wonderful that we can go here and take a look at it and, and have your feelings flow. I look up, and I think you feel compassion and love.” The enthusiasm for this one is forceful as if vitality bursts from every stroke of the master. It is just as palpable as her disapproval is unmistakable for a mural by Doze Green a short stroll away.
“It’s dead. It doesn’t give me anything. It’s not three-dimensional. There aren’t human forms.” She does not have a favorable view of a formalized art world either, as she continues the critique.
“That makes me feel like that represents the cold world where art is supposed to mean this and that. You just give them a lot of nice words and then you’re supposed to follow. I don’t buy that. I don’t, so I don’t like that kind of art.”
Luckily for her, for us, and perhaps others who will be treated to these fervent opinions, the new piece by TelmoMiel can stay happily here in her neighborhood.
“Look at the colors. I look, oh, I think it’s, I think it’s just marvelous. I think it’s marvelous.”
The Bushwick Collective’s Block Party 12th edition ended with a bang and big crowds. This year Joe Ficalora, the founder, organizer, and curator, threw a warehouse party as part of the festivities and included a full-size replica of a New York Subway train designed by Danny Cortes and tagged by dozens of graffiti writers from the Metropolitan Area. We gave you a sneak peek of the train last week HERE. Today we bring you complete documentation with details shots of the train. BSA spoke about the project with Mr. Cortes, Edward Rivera, Mike See, and Joe Ficalora.
“So it’s amazing to me that you have taken something massive like a 1980s subway car, shrunk it down at one point to a highly detailed miniature…. and now you’re blowing it back up again!” says a BSA interviewer.
“It feels amazing, to tell the truth,” says artist Danny Cortes while a small team of fabricators and painters working feverishly on the full-scale car for an installation at the Bushwick Collective Block Party.
“Which one’s harder to do? The full-sized version or the smaller one?”
“The miniature,” Danny says with no hesitation. “Because the intricate details are so tiny and difficult to mimic something, you know? But it’s all; it’s so much fun. It’s so much fun.”
Cortes has been having a lot of big success in recent years making his painstaking replicas of New York scenes that make you feel warm and nostalgic for the streets; bodega storefronts, ice storage machines slaughtered with tags, box trucks, blue US mailboxes covered with stickers, the front of CBGB’s club, ice cream trucks, even tiny video VHS tapes of classics like “Wild Style.” And like the best writers in the day, he has been blowing up – scoring exhibitions and sometimes a celebrity client.
“I can show you what I’m working on,” he says, “I can show you, uh, one that I got for Drake for July” he reaches in his pocket to pull out his phone to show you his replica of a subway train pulling in under the tiled sign that says “Atlantic Avenue”. “So Barclays Center commissioned me to make this for Drake for his tour that’s coming in July. I’ll show you on Instagram. So it has almost the same concept.”
Mike See, who has been working long hours for days with Edward Rivera (aka Shutter Ed) and a team of people to fabricate this train, doesn’t even seem fatigued. When he talks about the sophisticated techniques of creating the lights, the windows, the seats, the finishes, and even the strap hangers – you can tell he’s excited to be a part of a crew. He may be more excited to have seen some graff heads who stopped by to tag the train in progress.
“A bunch of legendary graffiti artists came through – they cleared the warehouse for certain people to come in and be secretive. They did what they do, and there are layers of graffiti history from New York City graffiti right here. Is amazing. Outsides, insides, .. it makes you imagine the movie ‘The Warriors.’”
“Legends in the game,” says Cortes of some of the tags they have collected on this tribute train. “These are names that have been doing it for years and used to hit this same style of train for years. So this makes it more authentic. Not only is it like a stamp for me, but it’s also, it’s important to bring realism,” he says as he describes the process of layering, distressing, and applying finishes to the original pieces and tags to make them appear as authentic as possible.
“That’s why I faded out sometimes, right? You know, just to give it that overlay look and the fade distress, the stress look. That’s my style. The gritty, dirty, rusty. Yeah. What’s an eyesore to somebody else’s eye? It’s beauty to me, okay. So I accomplished that on this piece right here with my team.”
This replica of a subway car has been tagged for this special project by GIZ, SAINT, GHOST, THEAM, IR, CES, SPOT, JAKEE, KED, PGISM, ACNE, BERT, AND LANDO, DANNY CORTES, NEP, NOE, CHEO MSG, AND MIKE SEE among other graffiti writers.
Under the clattering rumble of the J Train, as it passes above from Manhattan into Brooklyn, this Ruby Crowned Kinglet hangs onto a small branch. An overcaffeinated and twitchy bird of very diminutive size, its birdsong is non-the-less one of the loudest – and quite musical. It looks like Mantra has chosen a perfect New York bird for this wall in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
In collaboration with the Audubon Society and Flora Fauna Funga (FEE), the French naturist, muralist, and former graffiti writer brought this natural scene into a boisterous babble of lateral glass and steel hubris. An artists’ neighborhood at the turn of the century, most of those colorful characters have been chased out by high rents, higher anxiety, and the startling, stultifying cultural homogeneity found in any suburb. It’s nice to see a little color back here.
“I had heard about this Audoban project on the street here,” Mantra explains, “and Martha said, ‘Why don’t you take the subway up to Harlem to see the new walls that feature birds and introduce yourself to the organizers.” He is referring to photographer and friend Martha Cooper whose cat Melia he once painted on a wall in Helsingborg, Sweden.
In the end, it was the Audobon Society in Paris who gave him the first opportunity, and now he is in the sister city of New York to paint this one for them. “We realized that it would be a good idea to have a mural in Paris and another one in New York City anyway,” he says.
Looking for a metaphor he says, “We are not even building a bridge but maybe as birds we migrated from Paris to New York.” New York has of course a public art connection with France at least since the 1880s when the Statue of Liberty opened – designed by French sculptor Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi , with its metal framework built by Gustave Eiffel.
“So basically,” Mantra says, “ I decided to design this mural so we could appreciate this bird above us. The ruby-crowned kinglet arrived and landed on the branch. Maybe he is as curious as we are.”
And what about the new mushrooms that have seeming popped up here overnight?
“There is a fungi foundation that is linked and is sort of a parallel foundation that is also a partner for this project,” he says. “From what I understand, there is a struggle to break into the scientific fields and establish a third order. It would be flora, fauna, and fungi.”
A pronghorn; the only antelope in North America and the fastest land mammal in the Western Hemisphere. The Oppussum is the only true member of the marsupial order that is endemic to the Americas. Basileus, a ring-tailed cat, and mammal of the raccoon family that is native to arid regions of North America.
These are all animals in our environs, yet you may not have ever seen one. They are important to our ancestral history of migration, development, and evolution across these expanses of land, air and water. We have co-existed for hundreds of years with these animals in his new exhibition in a tiny gallery on Manhattan’s lower East Side: a land mass that once was once a fertile landscape of marshes and woods. These furry and feather figures in ROA’s paintings may be far more aware of us than we are of them.
ROA, the street artist, the graffiti writer, the fine artist, the urban naturalist, the contemporary artist – whose work has appeared on city walls and on ruins in the rural countryside across many continents, may be unknown to you. But he has been here on the scene for 20 years, and BSA has been publishing about him for about 15 of them.
As we look at these new works, he speaks of these exceptional examples of species of North America, including more familiar ones like the chipmunk and the bluejay-which is painted here in his signature monochrome palette.
Whether a small drawing or a mid-sized canvas, or a massive multi-story outside wall, ROA stays true to detail and accuracy. The leeway he grants himself sometimes is the compositions, especially in his fictional groupings that also consider overall composition. An example in this show is the graphite on a paper scroll that features a small chorus of animals, an animated scroll of species crawling over each other that he says is “a crazy composition of something that never happened yet.” ROA says it isn’t necessarily a study for a future wall, but he could understand why you may think so.
“It’s unfinished. It’s a dynamic sketch,” he says. “It’s a show of how something could be.”
It is also a similar drawing to an aerosol wall painting that you may have seen elsewhere online. “I did a similar wall in Belgium not too long ago. This sketch is kind of inspired by that wall. It was a rounded wall. It was like 6 meters high, and I forgot the diameter. It is a silo. I painted around and around it, and it took me so long. That wall took me about two months. Not every day – sometimes I took a weekend off.”
After a pandemic period, this is ROA’s first trip back to New York. It’s a small, potent, intentional show that echoes others he has had here but now feels like an old friend returning. One that has survived. A native of Ghent, a city and a municipality in the Flemish Region of Belgium, he’s traveled the world actively until it all screeched to a stop in 2020. We’ve changed. Our city has changed. Nevertheless, he says, “I love New York. I couldn’t wait to get back here.”
‘Interactive’: an overused buzzword today, much like ‘engagement’ and its derived forms. Regardless, nothing replaces true community engagement like well-planned and executed public performance. This fall, one of the most interactive puppet performances worldwide has been traveling through New York, and thousands of people have participated.
Meeting thousands of people in the streets as a way to educate us about the plight of people around the world who have become refugees, the 12-foot-tall puppet of a young Syrian girl named Little Amal is fulfilling a mission begun many months ago on the border of Syria. According to the website of Handspring Puppet Company, the South African team which made her, Little Amal has already traveled 5,000 miles in the two years preceding her New York visit.
Little Amal has traveled “from the Syrian border through Turkey, Greece, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, Belgium and France” through more than 70 towns, villages, and cities in search of her mother. She even met the Pope.
Now in New York, organizers say she isin search of her Uncle Samir. Planned events in all 5 of the boroughs mean that she is being welcomed by hundreds of artists, cultural organizations, community groups, schools, and colleges during a 55-event, 17-day traveling festival.
We share with you today images from photographer Chris Jordan, who attended one of the recent interactive performances in the DUMBO neighborhood in Brooklyn. We also spoke with transdisciplinary artist Heather Alexa Woodfield, who has created, produced, and performed pieces for various festivals and events, including at Chashama, the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, FIGMENT NYC, the High Line, and The New Museum’s Ideas City. Woodfield tells us that The Little Amal project deeply touched her as an artist and performer, and she attended many of the performances.
Brooklyn Street Art:How did you hear about this project and what attracted you to it?
Heather Alexa Woodfield: I saw an article in the Guardian about The Walk with Amal in the fall of 2020. When I read that it was created by Good Chance Theatre, I knew I had to see it as their play The Jungle is one of the all-time great theatrical experiences. Since I went to Bread and Puppet every year as a child, I naturally have a deep love of radical puppetry and participatory public art.
Brooklyn Street Art:How many times have you walked with Amal? Were there many others interacting with her?
Heather Alexa Woodfield: I’ve walked with Amal 10 times so far. While I’ve mostly been too busy following the puppet to estimate the size of the crowd, it always seems to fill the space she occupies whether that is a vast space like Brooklyn Bridge Park or something more contained like galleries at the Natural History Museum.
Brooklyn Street Art:What do you feel that she symbolizes to you? Do you think people who first meet her on the street grasp the intention?
Heather Alexa Woodfield: Amal is a refugee who is being honored and celebrated all across the city. She helps us imagine a world where immigrants and refugees are welcomed and respected. I don’t think people who see her randomly immediately understand that she is a refugee. However, the experience seems to make people more willing to talk to strangers. Then conversations start, and the message gets passed. I’ve heard and participated in this exchange multiple times.
Brooklyn Street Art: How does art like this engage people in the public square?
Heather Alexa Woodfield: The public has a vital role to play in this artwork that is beyond spectator. Whether carrying a puppet bird or holding a flashlight to illuminate her face or simply walking with her, audience members become co-creators. This experience elicits a profound sense of collective joy that is reciprocal between the people who have gathered and the Amal team. I love seeing the puppeteers smiling just as much as the children around them.
Today we speak with Analí Chanquia and Vanesa Galdeano, who are known professionally together as MEDIANERAS. They are originally from Argentina but presently they live in Barcelona; together they have been traveling around the world together for 10 years creating murals. They work as a couple developing a vocabulary of kinetic graphics and androgynous, anamorphosed portraits that are jarring, slickly virtual, and somehow transcendent. Each is of this moment in the environment it is painted, yet reminds us that we are entering a different age of interaction that is not necessarily physical. It is electric, accessible, and oddly, spiritual.
Medianeras. Cascais, Portugal. (photo courtesy of the artists)
BSA:How many years have you been painting together and where and how did you begin?
Medianeras: We have been painting together for about 10 years. Both Vane and I (Anali) were already dedicated to making works of urban art before founding MEDIANERAS. Vanesa is an architect and has directed a mosaic workshop in the city of Rosario since 2009, a workshop with which they carried out collective mosaic interventions around the city. More than 15 interventions can be found; some are murals others are urban furniture cladding, such as stairs or public benches. In my case, I painted my first mural at the age of 18, but I began to dedicate myself more specifically to urban painting around the year 2011 when I did my Fine Arts thesis. This was a theoretical-practical project called “artist looks for a wall “, which consisted of making murals on walls that the neighbors offered me when they found this stencil that I left as a signature on each work.
We met in 2012 at a mosaic street workshop in the city of Rosario. Vanesa, who at that time was directing the workshop, contacted several graffiti artists to make a collective artwork of mixed techniques. That’s how we met; we began a life of love, travel, and art together. Until today we continue to grow together and enjoy together what we like the most.
Medianeras. Cascais, Portugal. (photo courtesy of the artists)
BSA: Medianeras is your artistic name. Could you please tell us about it? How did you arrive at naming yourselves “Medianeras”
Medianeras: We are a couple in both life and art, and thus our day-to-day existence and our projects capture our mutual growth. We called our duo Medianeras because we cherish the concept and idea of sharing. In Spanish, this means ‘lateral walls,’ which are those shared by neighbors. There’s a difference between walls whose function is to separate spaces, and lateral ones, which, conversely, join them. We maintain that public art, aside from making cities more attractive, proclaims the idea of a place shared by all the individuals who pass through it. We teamed up with the idea of conceiving and creating public art together. At present we are dedicating ourselves to mural painting, but we have also worked on collective mosaic interventions in public spaces.
Medianeras. Morlaix, France. (photo courtesy of the artists)
BSA: Please tell us about your process for creating a mural from the idea to the sketch to the art on the wall.
Medianeras: The creative process is quite long. The idea that we are going to paint takes us more time than the days of painting the mural. We study the place a lot, the points of view, the architecture, and the surroundings; we take into account the culture of the place and the history. We draw the designs digitally, based on the photographs of the wall and its proportions and features.
The ideas to create the projects come mainly from certain characteristics of the town or city, the context, the proportions of the wall – width – height – unevenness – and the possible points of view. We mainly represent portraits, and we try not to necessarily define the gender of who we represent, giving rise to the viewer’s perspectives. The murals that we create considerably modify the urban space. In the case of the paintings that we make, they open a kind of window to artistic representation. However, it is important to remember that despite the fact that these murals are visually imposed, they are still ephemeral interventions in painting, linked to possible changes in the weather or any other.
Medianeras. Morlaix, France. (photo courtesy of the artists)
BSA: Please tell us about your background in art and what you were doing independently before you formed Medianeras.
Medianeras: As a child, I (Anali) loved creating things, drawing, and inventing new objects. I attended different art workshops and studied at the University of Arts in the city of Rosario. While I was studying, I made several murals, and in the last years of my career, I was already doing all the artwork on the street. I also studied digital design, a fact that allowed me to handle 3d tools and have a solid idea about space representation.
Vanesa studied architecture and also fine arts. She always had a predilection for urbanism in general but began to carry out collective urban interventions through a mosaic workshop that she directed after finishing architecture
We are both from Argentina. We grew up in a city named Rosario which is located near the Paraná river. Our country, located in South America, is incredible and beautiful as well as uncertain, unstable, and unpredictable. This makes its inhabitants constantly adapt to different types of changes, whether these changes are economic, political, social, or otherwise. In my opinion, in general, it makes Argentine citizens quite creative in the face of different types of difficulties. We are a society that is accustomed to improvising and adapting quickly.
In relation to our activity, Street art is characterized by appearing in all its forms in various parts of the city in a somewhat uncontrolled and deregulated way. The techniques that are used are those that are at hand depending on the stage that the country goes through. For example, the colors and spray brands that can be found in Rosario are very limited, and that makes the artists or graffiti artists use only the colors that they can find or even mix between the same cans of spray they have. In turn, the high costs of spray paint often lead to the choice of cheaper paints, often acrylic paints or even a mixture of several.
In Argentina, there are fewer formalities to intervene in the public space, and this has resulted in a somewhat more spontaneous, less regulated, more experimental urban art, perhaps even more sloppy. However many times we lack the necessary materials or budgets to make murals of large formats.
Although it is an activity that is penalized, we could venture that as there are problems of another kind, more urgent and important, urban art remains somewhat more out of the main focus. In this sense, we appreciate that freedom of expression is not expressly controlled, often allowing experimentation and growth of various artists on the street. We grew up in this context, where through dialogue with neighbors in our beginnings we were able to carry out our works. It can be said that we learned to paint on the street itself.
There was always something that called both of us to create public art. We even met each other working on the Street. The objective that we always shared was to make street art for everyone, whether in mural format, urban intervention, or mosaic because we believe that it is the right place for MEDIANERAS. We consider that public art is the most honest way to create our artworks and that anyone has access to them. It is art for everyone. Medianeras was born with a shared desire to move and create our artworks in different places and for everybody.
Medianeras. Morlaix, France. (photo courtesy of the artists)
BSA: The moment you paint on a wall on a building you’re immediately transforming the building and how the building is perceived by the people on the ground. How do the possibility of doing an intervention on any given building inform the theme and the execution of your work?
Medianeras: Our murals center on the representation of gender in its vast diversity. Although the works vary according to where they are located and how they are viewed, one of their standard features is faces whose gender is not necessarily distinct. Our theme corresponds closely to our way of thinking about gender. Throughout our education, we are taught what a man does and what a woman ought to do. However, in both our case as well as that of a broad range of human beings, gender is something that can change and be unable to adapt to this binary imposition. We want our works to convey the message of a broad concept of gender. We believe that once the rigorous distinction between men and women comes to an end, we will see the development of freer social relations and generations of people who are less concerned with what they should be and more attentive to what they could be.
In other words, we believe that by breaking these rigid and constrictive molds, we can overcome certain forms of discrimination, as well as roles imposed on us from the outside. Our works reflect individuals, poetically and visually transformed, who often struggle to break out of the molds in which they find themselves.
These molds are the architectures where they are found. That is why we like to make holes in the spaces, like breaking down the walls.
Medianeras. La Bañeza, Spain. (photo courtesy of the artists)
BSA: How do you view context when doing a mural? The context here includes not only the architectural structure that you are using as canvas but also the neighborhood where the said structure is located, as well as the city and indeed the country.
Medianeras: Before starting a design we try to inform ourselves as much as we can about society and the place such as the wall where we are going to paint the mural. In this research, we investigate the customs and characteristics of the culture and its history. We also make a virtual tour of the areas where the wall is located through google maps. This tool allows us to obtain some possible perspectives of the place. With a set of data that includes colors of the environment, the architecture of the place, or even stories, among many others, we create a sketch that is adjusted specifically for that particular surface (wall). That sketch can only be represented on that site since we think about it in relation to the architecture and the points of view from which it will be observed. Through our representations of diverse individuals, we convey an idea of inclusion and conviction about the ideals we stand for.
Medianeras. La Bañeza, Spain. (photo courtesy of the artists)
BSA: You are not afraid of color and geometry in your work. Your murals have almost a tri-dimensional depth, is this technique informed by your previous experiences in art making or was it born out from merging your talents together?
Medianeras: Both. We have enough knowledge to be able to bring to painting what we projected in the initial idea. Through the years, we have combined our styles in such a way as to arrive at what we currently do. Each project is a new challenge to integrate portraits into architectures, which are different in each case. We believe that we can achieve great complexities in the representation of depth thanks to the unification of our knowledge, both geometry and color and drawing.
We like to use the technique of anamorphosis. From one angle, one sees images of faces while, from another, one sees the distortion of these faces—the images reveal that they are illusions, something we believe is real, but that is not necessarily so. This is why we study the area around as well as the points of view from which the wall will be perceived: the image is conditioned both by the wall on which it will be displayed and the environment it is in.
Medianeras. La Bañeza, Spain. (photo courtesy of the artists)Medianeras. La Bañeza, Spain. (photo courtesy of the artists)Medianeras. Lecce, Italy. (photo courtesy of the artists)
An unusual opportunity to see this documentary this week for its first theatrical running. The thrill is compounded by the chance to see some “legends” on stage as well, says director Alexandra Henry – and she is right. Focusing on the street art and graffiti scene from a female perspective hasn’t been done previously. Still, the conversation about the balance of gender representation has been burning for more than a decade in the street and in festivals and street art symposia across the world. Henry travels across the US and into the Americas to find women to speak with to ask about their experiences in this practice that sometimes only happens in the shadows.
A fresh perspective that allows people to talk, Street Heroines unveils a complex history over time – inviting you to gain a greater appreciation for the players as well as the practices of a typical artist on the street today. When it comes to practicing these skills on the street as a woman in a macho or outright misogynist culture, the title appears as an accurate descriptor. Out from under the male gaze, these women have heroically been showing us the world from a vibrant, personal perspective that has required sacrifice, vision, and at times, some guts. Join Henry this week along with documentary photographer Martha Cooper and artists Lady Pink, Swoon, and Aiko right here in Brooklyn.
We had an opportunity to ask director Alexandra Henry about her film, her project, and the women she met along the way.
Brooklyn Street Art:Women artists have been typically under represented in receiving recognition for their work. This has been through and graffiti in Streetart as well. Do you see a change now?
Alexandra Henry: When I started this project 10 years ago it was because I recognized a deficiency in the representation of women in the movement. And I also recognized my own ignorance as I hadn’t realized there were so many female artists participating in graffiti and street art. I had been paying attention and documenting the subculture scene since I was teenager growing up in the Washington, D.C. area and then when I went to college in Los Angeles. But not until my late 20s, living in NYC, did I ever consider there were women out there doing graffiti or making street art.
In making this film, I wasn’t sure how it would begin or end, but I knew it would be important to honor the pioneering women who paved the way for the current generation of artists. Showing how Lady Pink’s and Martha Cooper’s friendship and collaboration put women on the map and inspired others to find their creative voice, not just in the USA but on a global level, is something we felt was an essential throughline in the particular stories we’ve chosen to tell in this film. It’s the ‘see it be it’ factor and we as filmmakers hope it is just the beginning of shining a light on the likes of talented women, who like TooFly says in the film, will get inspired to take their art to the next level. We want to make these women household names beyond the subculture and into the mainstream.
Brooklyn Street Art:From your original idea to fundraising to protecting and traveling and meeting the artists in your film, It has been a long journey. How did the final results differ from what you initially conceived?
Alexandra Henry: As I have a background in photography, initially I wanted to make a photo essay of women in the graffiti and street art movement. At the time, however, I was starting to experiment with video and learning how to edit so I decided to ask for their permission to film them while they were working and for an on-camera interview because I felt that capturing their process was just as important as highlighting the finished piece. I believe it is very impactful to hear directly from the artist, in their own voice. So I set out to make short films of each artist who agreed to be documented.
Eventually, I saw a bigger story coming together as women attributed their interest in the medium to others who came before them. I couldn’t find any of that history documented so I decided to make a feature-length film that would not only nod to the historical participation of women in the game but also look at the subculture through the female lens to show how much ground women have gained. As we know, the future of graffiti and street art is unpredictable, so contrary to my initial approach, where I had planned to tie up the story with a nice little bow, I’ve left it open-ended as I feel this could just be the beginning of telling many, many more stories.
Brooklyn Street Art: What is the best way to support a female artist? Alexandra Henry: The best way to support a female artist is to start with the young ones who show interest in the creative arts! And give them encouragement and resources to further develop their interest, whether through books, trips to see local murals, street art festivals, art museums, studio visits, and gallery shows. Street Art is everywhere; it’s prolific, so even if you don’t live in an urban area like New York City or Mexico City, or São Paulo, you can still find examples of street art in small towns. Point it out to your young artists so they can see their surroundings from a different perspective. And to support our Street Heroines and any female artist trying to break through, most artists have studio practices and sell their work, and you can find them via their social media posts. I’d recommend following them, buying their work, and attending their events if you are able to. If you work for a brand or art institution and are reading this article, hire more female artists, designers, creative directors, curators, filmmakers, etc.!
Brooklyn Street Art: What is one primary difference that you observed between men and women in working style or approach? Alexandra Henry: When it comes down to the working style or approach, I’d say we should differentiate between graffiti and street art. Graffiti, which is an illegal act that usually happens very fast, has a more aggressive approach and is meant to provoke society or fulfill one’s ego. And regardless if you are a man or woman, those are the intentions behind it. Street Art, to be clear, is usually done with permission and the artist can take their time to finish their piece. I’d say the messaging in street art aims to be thought-provoking and ego-stroking as well. But listening to some of the artists in the film, they note, for example, that many images in street art that portray women are made by male artists and are used to sell something or to show their view of society. So when a female artist or artists paint themselves in their own image, they eliminate the male gaze, and therefore the approach is inherently different than that of their male counterparts.
Brooklyn Street Art:Have you been personally inspired by the process and the results of making this film?
Alexandra Henry: Making my first feature-length independent film has been a testing process on so many levels, but very inspiring at the same time. I didn’t anticipate it taking this long, and I also feared the subject matter might feel dated or irrelevant if the film ever did get released. However, living with all of these artists in the edit bay for the past 5 years and listening to their stories of resilience, over and over again, gave me the energy to keep moving forward. Their perseverance truly resonated with our filmmaking team and me. I have to mention it was difficult not to include every artist we shot, but I hope to make a doc series in the near future because there are so many powerful stories we have tee-ed up.
As for the timing of the release, I feel like there is no better moment than now for Street Heroines to reach a wider audience so they can get to know these women, hear their stories, experience their art, and witness the very political act of just being a woman creating in the public space having her own agency. Especially given where we are as a society in the USA right now, where women’s rights are getting the rollback. As far as results are concerned, this past year we had a great film festival run for such an independent documentary, which was very exciting. I always love it when I hear from audience members who say they never thought or considered that women were graffiti or street artists until they watched the film.
I also get many follow-up comments or emails with pictures of street art people notice in their day-to-day life! I think the film helps open people’s perspectives to the power of public art. Additionally, I would say all the women who have reached out over the years from around the world to express their appreciation for the work we are doing in documenting this angle of the street art and graffiti movement and also wanting to be part of it, is very telling of how flourishing the community of female artists is at a global level.
Developing a library of personal alphabets, coded symbols, muscle memory and intended meanings.
New York street artist Modomatic is finding his way among a crowded field of new additions to the conversation on the streets. His stylistic leanings are being road-tested, as it were, and he is developing his vocabulary before your eyes. We are pleased to have the opportunity to ask him about his sculptural works, his illustrative/diagrammatic works, and how he finds the space in between worlds that he inhabits to be a street artist in New York today.
BSA: The output on the streets is varied. You have what we think are 3D sculptures, wheat pastes with abstract forms, and a take on the pre-Hispanic codices, etc… Are you one artist with a busy mind or are you a collective of artists?
Modomatic: I’m one artist, with a busy mind and ways to extend working time. I constantly explore different ways of expressing myself and along the way created various forms of art, but basically, they’re all coming out of my imagination and started in my sketchbook. I produced a lot of kinds of work during the pandemic, and now using the street to distribute them, because I can’t keep them all. I used a lot of my existing art. I adjust them for the streets, enhancing them so that they can be viewed a little bit further away. Also, for example, the use of brighter and fluorescent colors. I’m still learning about street art, learning about the culture, the type of artwork, the artists, and the way people are installing their art and where they’re installing it. That actually informs, in a way, how to evolve my art to fit more into the environment and the street culture.
BSA:The 3D sculptures are usually human figures interconnected in dance-like movement. The pieces have words as well and sometimes they feature a staircase. Are the figures dancing? Or preventing each other from falling off the staircase? How do you select the text? Does the text follow the image or is it the opposite?
Modomatic: There are two different series of works on this 3D sculpture. One I called “Chasing the Unicorn.” This one has the stairs with a person (mostly a single person) climbing onto the end of the stairs. Chasing a unicorn for me is almost like you are climbing all the way up to the top at full speed, without knowing really, how far the stairs will go, so reaching the top could also mean reaching the end. I styled it to looked like the person is about to jump or about to, you know, desperately stop from falling.
The second series of 3d sculptures are showing a small crowd of people supporting each other. They are holding each other in a group hug or propping up someone. The messages are positive and supportive of mental health. I am saying that we are not alone and they are aware of the problem and show that there is a willingness of others to help. The 3D people are not originally created for the piece – but they are being used to convey the message. I created the sculpture element for some other projects. As I said before, I have a body of work that I created during the last lockdown and these are the result of one of the experimentations I did with figures. So I created this series.
BSA:The inclusion of the staircase, in particular, is interesting to us. Do you care to elaborate a bit on its symbolism?
Modomatic: For me, the stairs are representing the effort that we take to get somewhere, to reach our goals, whether they are being successful, healthy, wealthy, or just getting out of the holes we are in. Usually, you know exactly the height that you’re going to climb, and what is at the end of it. But sometimes, as depicted in this series, when chasing the unicorn, you just go as fast as you can to climb to the top – not knowing where it ends.
Not knowing how far do you have to go also may mean risking overshooting the stairs. This could happen to us who are trying to get as much as possible, as fast as possible, by any means necessary.
In some pieces, I placed the stairs, upside down. For that moment in time when one is at the end of the stairs, going back down takes as much effort as it was going up.
Positioning yourself in between those times is kind of being invisible. People are going about ending their day, and starting their evening and you are somewhere in between.
BSA: Your wheat-pasted posters have an abstract/mystic aesthetic; with figures, numbers, and words. Is there a secret code to the message?
Modomatic: When I do the sketches, the original drawings, yes. There is some form of messaging that I wanted to get across with the symbols. In the sketchbook, I pretended to create a series of personal alphabets, coded symbols, or simple marks, each with the intended meaning. Then the collection becomes a library, like an icon library. The icons either stay imprinted in my mind, in my sketchbooks or are preserved for my digital work. As I started to produce artwork like posters and other different forms, in 3D or 2D, large or small, I started to use those elements and just basically created the composition.
BSA:We do see an influence from what appear to be Aztec Codex symbols in your work, sometimes mixed with modern war machines. What’s the genesis for this “fusion”?
Modomatic: I’d like to consider myself a collector. I take great pleasure in mixing things I collect to create something new. In creating some of my symbols I used scripts like Hindi, Arabic, Chinese characters, Japanese Hiragana and Katakana, and other ancient scripts. I practice my hand on them, and then at one point, they become just muscle memories. The fusion happens in the process of creation.
BSA:One piece, in particular, resembles the international space station to us, or perhaps a satellite. It also brings to mind Legos. Were you obsessed with Legos? Or maybe still are?
Modomatic: I think you are referring to my series AstroSnout. My kids and I love to play with Legos and other construction toys and their modularity is perhaps carried to these artworks. And recently we’ve been paying a lot of attention to the commercial space industries, with Space X and that sparks our imaginations. I do a lot of my art with my kids, and this is one of our fascinations. You can see that this group of works are more playful.
BSA:Did you like getting up in the streets of NYC during the initial Covid lockdowns when the streets were empty and nobody was around? What pushes you to share your work in the streets?
Modomatic: I get up in the street either early in the evening in the dusk, or early in the morning (5 am) where people are just coming out. I like that it is quiet but it’s not dead quiet. The early evening is when there’s just the confusion of time, between the receding of busy work and the starting of the nightlife. Positioning yourself in between those times is kind of being invisible. People are going about ending their day, and starting their evening and you are somewhere in between.
I share my art on the street because I think that it’s like the best gallery in the city.
You are the artist, you are also the curator, the gallery owner – well not really – but the gallery director and art installer. There’s a lot to figure out; where to put your art, how to position it with other art. I use proximity, as a form of admiration, so sometimes I put my art close to the other artists or work that I admire. I considered light and shadow, especially for the 3D art pieces. I also have to consider the fact that it might be taken down, or covered-up.
I love to find my 3D art has been painted over, finding it become part of the fixtures is my goal. I also love to see it emerging later on when the art covering it has decayed or been removed, and my piece started to reveal itself again.
I don’t hate that sometimes my art is taken away. I’d like to think that somebody liked them, not because they hate them.
I learned that’s the street, and I love that. I appreciate it.
French Street Artist Julien de Casabianca is debuting a new series of photographs that may appear as a surprising departure from his previous multi-year multi-city OUTINGS project, but a closer examination contains many similarities between that one and “Grand Mozeur Feukeur”.
The street artist’s pastings for his OUTINGS Project featured scenes from figurative artworks, classical and modern, from museum collections. Julien de Casabianca wanted the images displayed on facades of buildings in public view rather than hidden away for a limited audience. By bringing outside these selected artworks from cultural institutions worldwide, the artist created a genuinely new category of street art, which doesn’t occur with the frequency you might expect.
From Poland to Mexico to Palestine and Vietnam, OUTINGS expanded to be many things at once, including a form of public service that exposed passersby to cloistered artists whose works were prized but generally unseen by the everyday citizen, therefore unconsidered. Everyone was required to re-think the artworks as well as their pre-conceptions of propriety.
Sometimes partnering directly with local art institutions, Casabianca traveled the world, bringing images into the light of day. Considered anew in this city street context, these excised images took on newly discovered relevance, weights, and character. While some appeared as ghosts of the past, others were remarkably contemporary in these modern surroundings. With the implied or explicit imprimatur of academics and art institutions, his novel approach to art on the streets was timely and of our time, short-circuiting convention and garnering countless press articles in cities and cultures widespread.
For one campaign, he selected only “sex scenes,” as he calls them. Motivated by his disappointment at the lack of sexual themes in the street art scene, Julien de Casabianca isolated duos and polyamorous parties engaged in the erotic arts. “It was my first step of questioning sex, gender, and body in street art,” he tells us in an exclusive interview. A redefining of the street art scene, which can be ironically conventional considering its unconventional origins, was necessary.
“My pasting work used characters taken directly from classical paintings – and I put them in the streets,” he says. “There were dozen of sex scenes – heterosexuals and homosexuals – extracted from classical paintings.”
The impulse to expose audiences to these images was liberating, leading him to publish a manifesto on the streets of his home city, Paris. The long screed excoriated his fellow street artists worldwide for what he perceived as their lack of bravery and possibly hypocrisy by avoiding explicitly sexual scenes.
One excerpt says, “What’s wrong with you guys? Street artists are the purest of them all, then? The least ballsy, apparently. The least boobsy too.”
Today, following his own counsel, Casabianca presents a personal campaign in photographs that again introduces themes infrequently seen on the street, this time using himself as muse and canvas. As LGBTQ issues have mingled with a volley of newly coined terms and freshly minted (often self-appointed) experts in the academy, the media, and the street, many everyday persons have continued to navigate through life with seemingly new definitions of gender identity. This new campaign may clarify, or not.
As an artist familiar with both public display and figurative artwork, Casabianca models here his unique flair for fashion. He also displays a previously little-known relationship with gender, sexuality, and our coding guidelines for classification of each. In this new project, he models dresses that he has collected, each endowed with several associations and assumptions.
As in the OUTINGS project, these photographs are excised from their original intended context, if you will, and given a new venue for consideration. Along with the quality of materials and construction, the viewer will evaluate categories such as “day” or “evening,” occasion, income level, social status, age, gender, sexuality, sexual availability, and degrees of masculinity or femininity.
“This new series of pictures presents my body as a form of street art. I do not see the body used in street art either, but I believe it can be a kind of contemporary art performance,” he says in his description of the new project he’s calling “Grand Mozeur Feukeur.”
Paired with footwear that is not typical for the styles of dress, he poses with some deadpan expressions, occasionally appearing as solicitous, coy, non-plussed, or decisive. You may even say they are a parody of the poses in classical antiquity or fashion magazines. This is a very personal act of self-exposure, and the project reveals his questioning of identity and the paradox of self-expression – and society’s propensity for categorizing.
In total, “Grand Mozeur Feukeur” is a very intimate, provocative presentation that may surprise and draw closer examination by viewers. Grand, severe, and even humorous, the performer/muse/artist places himself against a “typical” scene of urban aerosol graffiti tags on walls. – It’s not exactly street art, yet you can imagine some of these images may end up on the street in a city near you.
“This work questions gender,” he says. “There is a malaise in the masculine aspect in our society at this moment, and I’m uncomfortable with manhood. I’m not gay; I’m a boy-girl, maybe. I’m attracted to women but not attracted to the heterosexual way of being. I identify as queer, and I’m sexually attracted to people who identify as this as well. Heterosexuality is a lifestyle. I may be something like a cross-dyke, because “dyke” at one time was a slang term for a well-dressed man. A well-dressed man for me is a man in a dress. A man cross-dressed.”
BSA interviewed Julien de Casabianca about his new project:
Brooklyn Street Art (BSA): Can you talk about what led you from your previous street art project to this new one? A number of those pasted works focused on sexual and erotic themes. Is the new project related to each other in any way?
Julien de Casabianca (JC): My OUTINGS work uses characters removed from classical paintings to paste them in the streets. I pasted a dozen sex scenes extracted from classical paintings in Paris streets, and I published the series in Nuart Journal. Some were heterosexuals in nature, and some were homosexual. So this was my first step in questioning sex and gender in street art. And I discovered how sex and gender are rare in street art.
Sexuality is seldom discussed, except in a way meant to be comical. Homosexuality is rarely addressed, except in a political way, in defense of visibility, for example. Rarely are these themes presented for just what they are: sex and love. So once I realized this, it opened my eyes, and I decided to continue to work on these queer questions.
BSA: The dresses present a traditional look at female gender roles. Here they are contrasted with perhaps more modern classic male presentation. How is a costume/dress selected?
JC: These are only “old lady” dresses, grand-mother style. I’m fascinated by kitsch and how there can be a beautiful state in the sublimation of ugly. I think these dresses fit me really well. Since I was 15 years old, I always wore these dresses when I went to a queer party. I did not intend it as a travesty or an absurdity, not just to “dress up.” It is just because I’m beautiful in it! I don’t act like a girl. I’m a man, with my virility intact, and I’m absolutely not androgynous. And some are funny, yes. I have a huge collection, around 150.
BSA: The footwear and socks are frequently well-matched to the color scheme of the dress, yet they are not directly related to the style. Is this intentional?
JC: Yes, I’m a sneaker addict, and I always wear sneakers, even in a dress. And I’m in urban style all the time, and it’s my job, so I wanted absolutely to create this mix between old-school and contemporary.
BSA: Does posing before heavily graffitied walls make these modeling sessions more “street” or “urban”?
JC: Yes, I’m a street artist, and this wall is in my home. There are two ways to connect this series of photography in the continuity of my street art work: the urban style association of the sneakers and the walls covered in graff.
BSA:Are you challenging gender roles and definitions, or are you expressing identity and sexuality?
JC: This work questions gender. There is a malaise in the masculine in our society. I’m uncomfortable with manhood. I’m not gay; I’m a boy-girl, maybe. I’m attracted to women but not attracted to the typical heterosexual way of being. I identify as queer, and I’m sexual attracted to people who identify as this. Heterosexuality is a lifestyle. Maybe I am something like a cross-dyke, because people used to use “dyke” as slang for a well-dressed man. And a well-dressed man for me is a man in a dress. A man cross-dressed.
JC: There is comedy too, sometimes, because I’m funny in my life and the photographs are my work. But these styles are from my nightlife. At my house, my decor is full of old-lady stuff. I’m in love with those things. They are deeply moving.
BSA: In terms of society and your personal evolution, could this project have occurred in 1991? 2001? Or is there something about 2021 that makes it feel “right”?
JC: It has been an incredible evolution in the last few years in the overall recognition by people of the variety of genders that exist. Ten years ago, people would have regarded my looks as travesty or comedy, period. I’m not either one, not traditionally hetero. I’m queer. During the day, I wear what could be considered a “heterosexual urban” style – maybe androgynous. At night I’m wearing old lady dresses while keeping my virility and masculine behavior.
Steering away from potentially inflammatory political content or street beef of the past on this high-profile wall with a New York street art/graffiti history, the current occupants of the Houston Bowery Wall are more focused on allegory, and community. Featuring a fleet of volunteers and a mural full of history and aspiration, Raul Ayala thinks of this wall as a teachable moment. The artist employed many of the 21 days that this mural took to complete to do just that: teach.
With ten talented young artists/activists from the locally-based Groundswell NYC community organization, Ayala planned and painted various phases of the mural together while under the gaze of curious New Yorkers who paraded by hour after hour while the artists painted. Included in that team were Gabriela Balderas, Charlize Beltre, Brandon Bendter, Junior Steven Clavijo, Jennifer Contreras, Maria Belen Flores, Hafsa Habib, Cipta Hussain, Karina Linares and Gabriel Pala.
Ayala describes the piece as “opening a portal,” and you quickly realize that it is a portal of the mind to imagination and inspiration. “For me, building imagination and sharing knowledge alongside a younger generation of artists is a great manifestation of the fruits of this shift,” he says. “With this mural, we are also bringing inter-generational participation into a future that honors our past while actively creating a different path of existence.”
BSA talked to Raul about the mural and his experience painting it. Below is the interview:
BSA: At both ends of the mural you have depicted two masked characters. One on the left is wearing what seems to be an Aztec mask with the skyline of Manhattan in the background as he pulls down a monument. The one on the right is a black man at the moment when he is either about to put an African mask on or at the moment when he’s taking it off. Could you please describe the significance of both characters and how they relate to each other in the mural?
RA: Masks have always been a part of culture and are the recipients of many powerful archetypes; they are a space of connection to different realms of existence. In recent times, due to the pandemic, the mask has become necessary protective gear and is part of the current cultural landscape. With the masks depicted in the mural, I wanted to drive the conversation towards a more ample understanding of the mask as it relates to specific cultural heritages. Black, brown and indigenous solidarity is a constant effort in my practice. I strive to practice solidarity in the themes I paint and also in the way a lot of my murals are made. I think of mural-making as a learning space, where I get to have conversations with my peers and my students. African and Indigenous (Wirarika/Huichol) inspired masks have a lot in common, as one of the proposals for the idea of “opening portals” that is the overarching theme of the mural.
There is
also a symbolic connection. In the Andes, where I come from, the Jaguar is a
very powerful spirit animal related to water. The Black Panther as a representation
of Black Power has a lot of cultural relevance as well and I wanted to hint to
those connections. Many passersby have referenced one of the masked people as
Chadwick Boseman. Even though it was not necessarily my intention, I love that people
-especially younger generations- read that on the mural.
BSA: There’s a skeleton with his arm around a skull character in a suit holding what seems to be a scepter. What are these two doing in the mural and who are they?
RA: The whole mural is an allegory of our current times. For me, part of the work that needs to happen is to address systemic oppression and white supremacy as prevalent forces that are endangering our relationships to each other, to our ancestry, and to the natural world. The two characters represent these forces. There are also a lot of symbols relating to these structural powers: There is a big fish eating small fish and an Icarus falling, both as cautionary tales of a late capitalist society and its extractive, individualistic strategies.
BSA: Can you talk about the women that are making a quilt? Who are they? What do they represent? Why are they making a quilt?
RA: Textile arts at large, including practices like Quilting Bees have been spaces not only of resistance and resilience but also spaces to pass on knowledge between generations. I wanted to depict a pluricultural, multigenerational circle of women. I believe these are great examples of the kind of relationships that will sustain and create health in these times. Additionally, the designs are another type of “portal.” They are traditional symbols in different cultures; the women in the back are creating a “tree of life,” a traditional African American quilting design. The women at the fore are holding a Chakana, which is a very important symbol of the Andean cosmogony.
The central character is dressed in a Whipala, an emblem that represents indigenous peoples from the Andes. The animals that are coming out of the designs (with the exception of the hummingbird, which is a migratory bird) were part of the ecosystem of that very location before colonization. I took the information from the Welikia Project, a map that overlays the city with the ecosystem of Mahannata before 1609. I would also like to acknowledge that my partner Fernanda Espinosa, an oral historian and cultural organizer has been a great help in imagining this side of the piece, and with who I often collaborate.
BSA: The flowers on the mural are very similar to the Moon flowers one sees in NYC in full bloom at night during the summer. Are these Moon Flowers?
RA: It is great to hear all the different readings the public has. In the end, it is about what people take and interpret themselves, I love that the flowers can also be Moon Flowers. I wanted to bring the idea of passing on traditional knowledge through generations. The plant depicted is Guanto, a plant that has been used as medicine in the Americas for millennia.
BSA: The female character holding a seed or a seedling. Can you talk about her and the seed she is holding?
RA: This is another allegorical character that is both using plants as medicine and holding the seed as a symbol. For me, it talks about the idea of the future. The title of the piece is “To Open A Portal,” this seed may be seen as a sort of key to that portal; a key that requires sustained care so the fruits of the labor can be enjoyed in a possible future.
In Kichwa, one of the indigenous languages of the Andes, we can say that we are living through a Warmi (female) Pacha (time/space) Kuti (shift). These seeds also represent that Warmi Pachakuti. In a way, this speculative approach to the future that has a strong female character at the center is an homage to Octavia Butler’s oeuvre. The figure above is also a historical character, Harriet Tubman. These are proposals to enter a new monumental landscape, not necessarily to depict one main person, but the sets of relationships and changes they have created through their actions.
BSA: How
was your experience painting in such a prominent spot with so much noise and
traffic?
RA: I really enjoy working in public space! The conversations that I witnessed and that the mural and activity sparked were very interesting. A lot of people told me that they see themselves in the characters and that was one of the biggest compliments I have received. There were also some people triggered by what was perceived as an attack on “white culture.” For me to question white supremacy and celebrate protests in the midst of an unprecedented pandemic, allow us to place this shift in the context of History. When monuments are brought down, a sort of portal to a different reality is being created. I see this seemingly aggressive act also as an opportunity to manifest different futures: when a symbol that stands for the values of civilization is put into question, domination and power imbalances are being contested too. This portal allows us to walk through the pain and find futures where we consider the way in which we are not only connected but also dependent on each other.
BSA: Your assistants were also your students. Where do you teach?
RA: While I am a visual artist, teaching has always been an important part of my practice and one that I center often. I started first teaching art in a project I started in detention centers in Quito many years ago. Since then, I have taught with multiple projects and organizations. With Groundswell, I have had the pleasure to teach for about 7 years. This project was in collaboration with them and it really was the only way it made sense for me to do this wall. I have been witnessing the growth of these young artists for some time now and I feel very proud of them and what we have done together. My responsibility as an artist is also to educate the younger generations of artists of color.
BROOKLYN STREET ART LOVES YOU MORE EVERY DAY
