Messages on the wall: Public Street Art

Meeting Os Gemeos en Atenas in 2005 was a highlight-sharing my writing style with them, checking their sketches and the motivation behind the wall they were commissioned to paint lit my street art passion into a higher gear.  The wall they painted is the whole bus station that lines the...in Gazi.  It’s images of people riding bicycles in nature, using alternative methods of transportation than diesel-guzzling motors.  Like a photo, contrast is important.  

I wonder now if there is a bike lane on that road? :)

Now back in South Africa: 

 Fear is a prison.  Fear is in the woman dressed in pink.  She says, “Excuse me, do you have permission to paint on this wall?”

“Yes, we do” 

“No, you don’t!”

“Yes, we do.”

“I’m going to call the police and . . . . Blah blah blah.”  Fear is a prison, dear sister in pink. And thank you for wearing pink but your threats we do not fear. I may rather ask for what is threatening you?  Has anyone but yourself ever solved what it threatening you?  I assure you, police are just people like you and me, and so what is there to fear? Police, more art, silence, thought, there is nothing to fear.  Don’t make up threats unless do you believe you are not free? Oh so that is why you chose the prison and threaten others to join you? No thank, we do our best to stand free, come join us, you’ll like it.

“We’ve tried to uplift this area . . .” she later explained to a listening ear.

And so what is upliftment? 

To threaten your community members is not uplifting.

Use your anger to change something in yourself.

As we express ourselves freely, we uplift ourselves freely. And if we live in this community, that we can be brave and fearless in, we are uplifted because we are not threatened or threaten ourselves because we live in fear. Just like you dress in pink, you are expressing materially on your body canvas-go head! I’ll lend you my pink sweater next time I see you in the neighborhood. 

And if we live in this world, that free expressive vibration roots into each step-changing our geographical minds. And with each step, another one is taken and shared by another free individual that crosses our path, unthreatened.  And there, two souls, moving freely, uplifted by their own choices, their inspirations and individual motivations, transform, positively, the world we live in. Upliftment! 

So thank you for painting the wall red. The contrast is beautiful-uplifting-and for the next individual to say yes to the canvas, to spread their free public uplifting expression.

 And slowly, we will all move out of the prison.

My lovely Seastars

Donut. Happy Birthday. I love your style and bright smile under this pose.

Spaces

Creating spaces that make you smile, motivate you to create, inspire, bring comfort and balance.

Imported from Detroit

"This is what we do"

  Make cars?

Detroit is more than just a Motor City.  
 Imagine Metro-Detroit urban sprawl contracted back towards the center?
How would it grow?
Would we build it up with auto tire building material?
Would it become Tire city? Earthship City?  A prized example of environmental design?
Will the Motor City continue to progress by using old practices or innovating new ones?

This picture was taken July 2010: Heidelberg Project, Detroit

Detroit City has more features to build upon than Eminem, Fox Theatre and Chrysler Commercials.  There is room to define "This is what we do" and there are images from Detriot that will be shared to provoke positive questions and a redefinition of Detroit.

Graffiti Art on the Street talks back-Durban, South Africa

  We build walls, we break walls.

  We climb walls, we bomb walls.

 We stare at walls, we wonder . . . if walls could talk.

  We paint walls, so they talk back.

  -Athena

   This picture was taken in 2005, in Durban, South Africa.

Joy and Chaos with MP3 experiment

 Improv Everywhere comes to Cape Town, ZA

Balloon battles, and random high-fives.  Peeps got an afternoon of random spontaneity with a lesson in listening in the Bay of sunglasses, six-packs and pouty lips.

It's Recess Time at the MOMA PS1, Long Island City, New York City

PS1 outside: an urban beach and inside out playpen 

William Kentridge's Zuma's shower head in the halls of PS1

 Last summer, My friend Claire took me to PS1, Long Island City. It was a rocking party and took you back to the feeling of being at school recess, but this time with beer tents, art and DJ's.

This pool installation fits the perfect vibe for my PS1 'student' school activities. Swim class without the swimming costume.

In Cape Town, the Design Indaba is happening and I can't wait to see all the innovative design projects that are being shared with the public for the first time! I didn't get the chance to dip into Erlich's pool but I love the interactivity it welcomes to the creative playground.

floor of baseball bats

playground love groove

classic PS1 classmate at recess

Leandro Erlich’s installation “Swimming Pool” at MOMA PS1, New York City.
Source: ps1.org via Athena on Pinterest 

mini skatebook

Learning a Language of Chords

April 24th, 2008

It's lunch time in Pamplona in the middle of Ciudedela. Old men in collared shirts and polyester pants sit on the bench near the young man playing his livelihood: the accordion.

Spring birds chirp as insects fly past the daisy weed grass we are sitting on. Grassy patches of land that surround the fort of the 1500s: Military architecture del Renacimiento Espanol. The outer fort walls have plants bursting through its aged stone cracks bringing life to its modern age existence of a bustling Spanish city in Estado Espanol. I am in a province that not only speaks Spanish where you can hear and read signs in Euskara, Basque, as well. I am in Spain for a month intensive Spanish course, but Spain represents a plethora of languages, history and conflict over topics such as language, religion and sovereignty. The clouds are painted in the sky dancing with the sunshine's playful manner of peek-a-boo on my back. I travel with my cotton fabric from Mozambique almost everywhere, and I am laying on it in Spain, as it soaks up the dewy lawn from yesterday's spring rain.

Caina jingled her bike and joined us on the lawn. She has wild curly hair and a simple sweet smile. She's from the Canary Islands and is studying sociology with my friend Nani, who I am visiting in Pamplona. We greet each other with kisses on both cheeks and chat about the change in weather from the usual rainy days in Pamplona, the accordion music playing in the park. Our conversation deepens into the politics of Basque vs. Espana as a passing couple speaking in Basque triggers our dialogue. We explore the language laws that exist in Spain and the parallel situations around the world.

She was interested in what South Africa was like, and we talked about the realities, dynamics, and questions to be explored in relation to Nicaragua's current leadership and conflicts and then to Nani's experience with the Zapatista movement-the organization, the struggles, etc. I wondered what life was like in the Canary Islands where she says no other languages are spoken there except Spanish. Histories and rhythms of Mozarbic, Ajami, Basque, Euskara . . .

I continue journaling as an ant travelled across my pages, inspecting the edge of my journal and the curves of the words that I scribe. Speaking Spanish again is like a riding a bike, but there are still tricks to be learned. Language may be better explained as a guitar rather than a bike. If you remember to play some chords you once learned and feel comfortable playing them, you can transition from one to the other.

Making different and authentic tunes, maybe even with your eyes closed.

But there is still a whole range of notes, chords, songs and melodies left to learn. So even though you can play some tunes, and its fun and enjoyable, there is still a desire to learn more. One day realizing your own melody can harmonize with what you want to express. What you are feeling: to communicate through a new language.