NEW BLOG!

I started a new blog and website specifically for the Mural Project.  I will keep this blog for personal and travel writing. To follow my new blog, Click Here!
http://alexandrawaters.wordpress.com/

Power Blasting: Preparing the Wall

After much deliberation, the city council declared they would allow our project if we presented a color sketch of the mural.  We had hoped to begin painting the following Tuesday so Kaos, Sheila and I met that very night to work some photoshop magic.  With the speed of a video game addict, Kaos scanned and clicked color onto our pencil sketch.  Within the hour, our sketch took on brilliant colors hinting at the hues of our final product.  

On Monday we went material shopping at a nearby paint store.  I lost myself in the enormous number of paint colors to choose from.  We picked up some preliminary materials, fully aware of the many return trips we would be making.  

I have since made dozens of trips to hard ware stores across the city.  It is quite humorous for the men to watch a little blonde foreigner searching for hardcore materials.  One man asked if I was having a party with the  dust masks and steel wool I was purchasing.  Of course!  What Else?

On Tuesday, none of the necessary pieces fell into place.  Sheila forgot her permission slip to get out of school, I forgot my cell phone and Kaos forgot the meeting place.  It was a disappointing morning for everyone.  Janel had come by to take photographs so we went out to take a look at the wall.  We found that the wall is not painted in ordinary paint.  It is painted in an anti-graffiti paint meant to cover the graffiti below and prevent paint from sticking to its powdery surface.

The only solution is to strip the wall of this powdery mess and then paint and spray.  However, in absence of the necessary funding to sandblast or power wash the wall, it was up to us to power blast the paint away.

Armed with steel wool and metal scrapers we have mounted our defense.  We have spent days and days scraping and scrubbing, becoming intimate with the walls history, revealing graffiti from decades past.  My students recognize the signs and tags from long retired graffiti artists in the neighborhood. We have even found paper posters still clinging to the under layers of brick. 

Although the work is physically taxing, it has been fun to play around, listen to music and at times stop scraping to dance out a song.  We have many neighborhood visitors who drop by to see what’s up or lend a hand. 

Later this week we will fire up the hoses and scrub the excess powder away.  We will then begin the painting process! 

 

Let the fun begin!

 

Among Rubble

I rode the bus with Sheila, sweating from the heat of too many bodies crammed into a city bus on a scorching day.  Although the fans of the air conditioner huffed with exhaustion, they could not keep up with the sun's cruel rays invading the metal vehicle.  As we moved through the streets to the city council, she pointed down nearly every other street, “I lived there when I was four with my parents”  “That’s the park where I scraped my knee”  “I lived there with my Mom when I was six”  “I lived there with my Dad when…” I asked her how many places she’s lived and she explained that there were far too many to count.  Her mom moved around a lot “But I haven’t seen her in years now.”  She goes quiet, I don’t ask. 

Sheila is one of my bilingual students at the high school where I teach.  In class, she is the girl who sits with her head down, face hidden behind a curtain of tight black curls, silently drawing song lyrics on the face of her desk.  After class she wipes them away, and moves on with her day.  In a community graffiti class however, she is silly and playful.  She is confident, laughs a lot and jokes around.  All until she picks up a spray can.  Then, she is all business, focused and perfecting hours on end.  

"I don't want to live among rubble"- Orcasitas 1957

 As we arrived to the city council, we navigated through the security checks and around official looking desks until we reached the office of Public Works.  Here we presented a sketch on an outstretched piece of paper.  “We want to do a mural.”  The three official men in suits looked at the two of us disapprovingly. They tried to explain that the bureaucracy concerning permission for a project like this was a nightmare.  They attacked each argument we made in favor of the project, insulted my Spanish and dismissed the sketch.  Finally Sheila spoke up, “Listen, a lot of people complain about the aesthetics of this neighborhood.  They go around doing graffiti trying to make it better but only make it worse.  This is a way to do something good for our neighborhood.”  They told us they’d think it over and pass it up the chain of command.  We’d know by Friday.

Sheila and I walked out of the building silently.  We got to the bus stop.  She turned to me and said, “Do you want an ice cream?”  I said “Sure.”  We both got a cookie ice cream sandwich and made our way back through the neighborhood to the school.  

This mural may change Sheila more than the neighborhood. She is engaged, focused and has plans to create art as her future career. Yet I see myself growing right along with her.

Contradicting the Clandestine

Asking Permission to Graffiti

A piece by Banksy- The famously mysterious graffiti artist

When I think of graffiti I think of hooded teens, stealthily covering the hardest to reach crevices of a city’s treacherous landscape.  This project is taking another direction.  With artists armed with spray cans and money for materials in our back pocket, it is now time to find the wall waiting for our work.

In mid May, as Madrid heat danced on pavement creating glittering mirages of puddles ahead, Kaos and I scoured the Orcasitas neighborhood in search of blank faced walls.  We zig-zagged the streets, darting for spotty shade under the scrawny trees that brave the harshness of concrete. Every few blocks emerged soaring brick walls that encircle the various schools in the neighborhood.  We photographed each one, documenting our options for the mural.

We concluded our search near Ciudad de Jaen, the high school I teach in.  We trampled through the surrounding vacant lots, knee high in hostile weeds armed with prickles and thorns.  I stepped carefully, unaware of the beasts that may take refuge in such a place: bugs, mice, snakes, or worse yet crocodiles… you just never know. Ballet flats were clearly not the best choice for this excursion!

Nevertheless, the journey through the jungle of thorns led us the perfect wall for the project. It borders the wild and vacant lots surrounding my school, yet is clearly visible by the many cars that pass by on Avenida de los Poblados.

The exterior wall of Joan Miró

The wall belongs to a Special Education primary school called Joan Miró that works with mentally handicapped students.  Juan, the Community Outreach Coordinator at Tiempo Joven, set up a time for Kaos to meet with the director of the school.  Everyone at the school was overwhelmingly excited and the project quickly cleared all the way up the chain of command.

We have permission!

The following Thursday, as I left work I saw that the previously overgrown lot was cleared of it’s hostile inhabitants (both real and imagined) and our wall stood tall and proud, bursting with potential.  I was dying to capture its grandeur but decided against stopping to take a photograph as I imagined what my students would think of me photographing a barren brick wall.  As I walked by, a wave of regret hit me. I decided to just do it! I turned around decisively, took out my camera and began taking photos of the wall.

“Shhhwe… Americana… Shhueshh… un mural…”

I heard whispering from a large group of women staring inquisitively and pointing at me from the sidewalk. As I made eye contact, a woman approached to ask if I was the American planning on painting the school’s exterior wall. Word sure travels fast!  She introduced herself as a teacher at Joan Miró and rattled off a million questions with such excitement I worried she may burst.  At the end of our exuberant conversation, she explained that Joan Miró was a school for mentally handicapped students and asked if there was some way to include the mission of the school and the students into our mural plan.  “Absolutely” I responded. 

Back to the drawing board…

We are now working feverishly to complete our sketch by next week when we will meet with students and teachers from Joan Miró to gather ideas and share our plan. A section of the mural will be dedicated to these student’s unique artistic talents.  We will then complete the mural in two waves.  First we will work with students from Joan Miró to complete their part in June before school is out for the summer.  The second wave will begin on July 5^th when the graffiti artists are out of school and we have the time to work uninterrupted for days at a time. 

Now it’s time to get my sketch on! 

Banksy

"We're Definitely Behind You"

I hung up the phone.

Took half a breath, then…. Happy Dance!

Wiggling, shaking, head flung, arms flailing, bouncing, jumping, shimmy to the left and kick! The great thing about getting good news over the telephone is the total absence of necessary professionalism when you hang up the line. 

Eskuz Esku (IMVG supported mural)

I just got off the phone with Laura Gould, the Cultural Affairs Officer at the United States Embassy.  Yesterday afternoon I sent her an e-mail introducing the mural project to ask for financial support from the Embassy.  It was nothing less than classy begging. 

In today’s phone conversation, the enthusiasm was palpable.  She concluded the conversation, “We're definitely behind you.” I was ecstatic. The financial support the United States Embassy may provide unleashes the pent up possibility of this project and sets in motion all the steps necessary to make it happen. 

This Week’s Agenda:

Wednesday:

Kaos and I will meet to scour the neighborhood for empty walls begging for life.  We will then begin contacting the owners of these spaces seeking permission to paint their blank faces.  Knowing the exact proportions of the space and the quantity of paint necessary to cover it will allow us to refine our budget proposal to the Embassy.

Friday: 

I have a tentative meeting planned with the founders of IMVG (Itinerario Muralistico de Vitoria-Gasteiz) to discuss the project and seek advice.  IMVG is an organization that supports mural arts in the Basque city, Vitoria-Gasteiz in the North of Spain.

Monday: 

The fun begins! We will propose the mural project to our young graffiti artists to gather their input and begin brainstorming theme, imagery and composition for their piece.  I will provide a brief history of the mural tradition and explain some of the techniques we will learn to complete this project.

Nitra

Barbed Wire Roses

While the Spanish may have lost much of their devout religious fervor after the fall of the dictatorship, they have in no way lost their passion for paid vacation.  As a result, we were afforded a generous 10 day break to travel Europe during Holy Week celebrations. Olivia, a close friend from work, invited Kelly and I to Slovakia for Easter break.  Olivia planned a return to visit friends and students from a bilingual school she taught at nearly two years ago.  On the trip, we visited Nitra and Bratislava, Slovakia; Budapest, Hungary; Prague, Czech Republic and Vienna, Austria.  I will recount the highlights of this trip by city, so be patient, there is more to come!

  

NITRA

Nitra is a tiny, dim town in the heart of Slovakia.  Most buildings reflect the concrete, austerity of the communist era, but a few retain crumbling vestiges of the ornate décor and faded pastel glory that stood so long ago.  The town was purely a land of contradiction.  Spring crept along every surface. From sidewalk cracks burst tall green grasses and trees flowed over with brightly, pedaled flowers.  As we walked along, small religious shrines and monumental crucifixes revealed the new religious zeal that conquered the hearts of the people soon after the communist regime relinquished power over their beliefs. And behind the dusty windows and crumbling facades was the angry beast of capitalism devouring the young with the poisoned obsession for high-heeled shoes and the latest shining cars.  

  

 Upon arrival, we were met with a cold, dim afternoon haze. We rolled suitcases along a busy road, past a school and down a hill where we were greeted with the frenzied welcome of Maria José and a large group of Spanish speakers taking refuge in a warm café.  We settled in for a creamy cappuccino before heading to Maria José’s apartment.  While the outside mirrored the cold communist architecture of the city, a concrete building with stark square windows, the inside glowed from bright yellow walls covered in pictures of tropical fish. At first glance it appeared to be a perfect reflection of Maria José, a woman coming from the beaches of Malaga.   We soon learned, however, that the fish were in fact inspired not by the Mediterranean, but instead by the Slovakian man with whom she has fallen deeply in love. 

He is about fish. 

He is about reproducing tropical fish. 

It sounds like an interesting couple.

Maria José was wonderful!  Uninhibited and enthusiastic, she would lose herself in hysterical half hour monologues.  While I was enraptured by her presence, Kelly, perplexed, went on a personal quest to find the lost ‘S’s that were missing from this Andalucían’s speech.  As the week went by, we picked up a variety of phrases we knew to store in our minds but never to use:

Example 1:  A friendly greeting

¿Que tal tú chocho?

English translation:  How is your pussy?

Example 2:  A friendly request to stay out of someone else’s drama

No me salpiques con tú mierda

English translation:  Don’t splash me with your shit

In addition to Maria José, we met dozens of other adventurous Spaniards who have chosen to live abroad in Slovakia.  Some have established roots in the town; others exist in a transitory state between staying and leaving as the years pass.  Many come as teachers in the Spanish bilingual high school in town. 

 

As bilingual teaching assistants in Spain, Kelly and I were more than curious about this school.  When we entered the building, it immediately felt like we had walked into the high schools we remembered from home.  Pictures of alumni covered the walls and students mulled around metal lockers or chatted as they walked with books through the hallways.  There was no running, no screaming and no fighting.  Kelly and I took a deep breath.  We visited a senior class, just months away from finishing high school.  The kids had the classic faces of desperate boredom characteristic of Chronic Senioritis.  They spoke to us in a mix of fluent Spanish and fluent English, choosing between them according to whichever they felt best suited the moment.  We were impressed! 

Inspired by all this language learning, we also picked up a few necessary Slovak phrases:

            Hello                                  Ahoj            

            Please                                Prosím

Thank you                         D’akujem

            How are you?                   Ako sa máš?

            Ok (Vale)                          Dobre

Our friendly guides

            Yes                                   Áno

            No                                    Nie

Too say the least, the Slovaks had us beat!

Nitra was by far the most interesting of the places we visited.  We were among friends who shared with us their lives there.  We took it easy and enjoyed the ride, preparing for the adventures ahead in Budapest and Prague.

Step One

 Status: Complete

Photo taken by Todd Waters

I am in the process of organizing a community mural project in Orcasitas, the neighborhood I teach in. It is primarily a low-income, immigrant and gypsy neighborhood that struggles with drugs, crime and hopelessness.   I am coordinating a mural project in an attempt to bring life, vitality and beauty to this neighborhood.  This project aims at giving a group of students studying graffiti in their free time the opportunity to express both their identity and that of their neighborhood in a public space.  The mural itself will be a fusion of both urban graffiti art and classical artistic technique.

This post outlines the many facets of step one: The Proposal. It is both the birth of an idea and its articulation.

Step 1.1: Early September 2010

Long, long ago after one too many glasses of wine and tasty appetizers at a Fulbright reception, I met Janel Torkington, a funky fulbrighter with sassy hair and shiny eyes.  The question of the evening was “What are you planning on doing for your side project?” and she had by far the most ambitious dream yet: a mural project.

Step 1.2: Mid-February 2011

One day in class, 6 months after my initial conversation with Janel, a particularly sharp and outspoken student began complaining about the neighborhood.  “It’s so ugly, I hate living here. Do you see what we walk through to get to school?  It’s a piece of shit.” And she’s right. Outside the layered iron gates of the school is a gypsy squatter’s residence.  It is a collection of windowless, door-less and roofless homes surrounded by brush, forgotten lawn furniture, a scavenged mirror, broken toys and an assortment of unwanted trash.  Surrounding these occupied residents are vacant lots.  Some are covered in knee high weeds and thorns, however the one I cross to enter the school gates is just a square patch of dirt, some days mud, littered with things like cigarette butts and the occasional condom.  Leaving school that day, I looked around and saw not only the mundane ugliness, but also a previously missed potential for beauty.  On a nearby wall, there is a faded mural that peaks through the cracked foundation.  Weathered images of a pregnant woman and a crawling baby can barely be made out from the wall that begs to fade to its original whiteness.  That may be the solution: A mural!

One of the walls just outside my school

Step 1.3: Late February 2011

How in the world could I get a mural project off the ground?  I would need students, resources, support, permission, paint, scaffolding, a theme, money...  the list is endless!  In brainstorming through possibilities, my faithful co-worker Kelly Moore recommended I talk to “the graffiti man”. Graffiti man?! Kelly later connected me with Juan, the community outreach coordinator from an after school program in the area called Tiempo Joven.  One of the classes offered on Monday nights is Graffiti.  He told me that he would connect me with Gustavo, the graffiti teacher to see if he would like to collaborate on a mural project.

Step 1.4: Early March 2011

Well, after both Gustavo and I each healed from a bout of winter sickness, we finally met at Tiempo Joven’s headquarters in Orcasitas. While white washing an interior wall with his students for a future graffiti project, I soon learned that Gustavo goes more commonly by his nickname Kaos (Chaos).  He loved the mural idea and we set a date to meet.

Step 1.5: Mid March 2011

During a Fulbright professional development day, I re-connected with Janel about the possibility of doing a mural project.  As it was her original plan, I invited her to join in and she was all for it!

Step 1.6: March 21, 2011

Last week the three musketeers met to plan their attack.  Over a beer at a nearby café, Kaos, Janel and I talked about the feasibility and logistics of the project.  We decided to use the graffiti students to create a mural that combines both the traditions of urban graffiti art and classical techniques.  We will collaborate with the Tiempo Joven program and use Juan, the community organizer, to ask permission for a wall and Teresa, the director, to find the money. 

Step 1.7: March 28, 2011

Janel and I attended our first graffiti class and learned the true difficulties of this art form with a futile attempt to fill in an outline of a tree.  Brown paint spurted from the top of our spray cans as two drops of yellow slowly crawled down the surface of the wall. It is seriously way harder than it looks!  It’s a good thing we have talented kids on this project.

Step 1.8: March 29- April 1, 2011

At another Madrid café, with Kaos and Janel both speaking faster than I could click on a computer, we scratched out a proposal for our project.  After a few more late-night revisions the proposal was perfected and our dream articulated.  The fate of our project now rests in the hands of our tireless supporters at Tiempo Joven and the generosity of the community to provide.

The abstract:

Después de escuchar a unos jóvenes quejar de la estética de su barrio, vimos una oportunidad de organizar un proyecto que combina nuestros intereses artísticos con el talento del barrio para mejorar la imagen de Orcasitas. Proponemos hacer un mural fusionando el arte urbano y la tradición clásica con un grupo de chicos de Tiempo Joven que dedican su tiempo libre y su energía a desarrollar sus talentos artísticos.  El tema del mural tratará de la identidad del barrio y los habitantes según la perspectiva de los artistas jóvenes del barrio.

Here are a few photos of inspirational murals that combine both urban and classical artistic techniques.  [Photographs thanks to Todd Waters]

Way better than my attempt at a tree!

Colors to the Sky

My footprints are pink. After the spots and smears of Spring’s beckoning muddled on the shower floor, a splotch of scrubbed too hard pink on the bottom of my foot remains the singular remnant of the day’s extravagant endeavors.

Earlier today my friends and I gathered to celebrate the Hindu Holi Festival, a celebration of spring that is internationally famous for the throwing of powdered dies and colored water.  Early in the morning, long before the celebration, I arrived at my friend Janel’s house where mimosas assisted in the preparation of tasty vegetarian delights including garbanzo samosas and gogola, fried banana beignets.  Guests in white arrived as fritters sizzled, salads tossed and the samosas toasted to a golden brown.  After an afternoon of snitching our delicious eats, we boarded the metro with a frenzied excitement in search of the Holi celebration. We followed the echoes of Indian music dancing off stone sidewalks and concrete walls to a plaza where a crowd surrounded a small stage.  Soon after, packets of powder were dispersed and color was flung high into the air, pushing back the enclosing grayness of the city.  Green landed in thick drops across noses and pink smeared on cheeks and foreheads. After the plastic bags of color emptied and the puffs of neon yellow had yet to settle on the tops of heads, the festivities resumed as both the dancers on stage and the stained onlookers danced wildly to the music.  We had become new people: colorful, confident and happy. 

This is my Madrid.  

I chose to come to Spain as a way to expand upon the knowledge I acquired at Carleton College.  As a Spanish Major I learned Spain’s history, culture and language from the other side of the ocean.  This was my chance to live it.  I stubbornly sought an apartment with Spanish speaking roommates and learned to cook with the limited range of ingredients in Spanish supermarkets.  I even adopted the Spanish lisp while pronouncing words like “Cerveza” (thervetha).  But as time progressed I began to see that living in Madrid is not solely about immersing myself in Tapas bars, eating every part of a pig, taking siestas and all else that may be considered “Spanish.”  Madrid has much more to offer.  It is a Cosmopolitan city bursting with people from every corner of the world, and as an American I am immediately a part of this community.  I teach more Moroccans, Latin Americans and Eastern Europeans than I do Spanish children, and I would need more push pins than I have to mark my friend’s home countries on a world map.  I have learned that searching for peanut butter in the tiny shops of the immigrant neighborhood is not a cop-out, but instead an opportunity to know the people I buy my food from and a challenge to try cooking with ingredients I can barely pronounce.

So, here I am: a Madrileña throwing colors to the sky