Genius Loci
My love affair with street art, in words and pictures
It all starts here.
This is Coffee Break and it was made by Etam Cru, a duo of Polish artists, on one of the least attractive streets of Pigneto, in Rome’s eastern quadrant. One morning on my daily run I caught the artists at work. Unfinished, it was already stunning.
For a very long time I had no idea what it was called. I named it “Albert” because he reminded me of a young Albert Einstein, and “Albert” is what I call it to this day. Every time I go running I make a point to walk past it (or run, whenever I manage to actually run all the way back home). I love it as much as it’s possible to love an inanimate object, and that is very much. Albert is mine.
My relationship with street art is uncomplicated and visceral. I love it, I love how it surprises you by seemingly materializing out of nowhere in the most unexpected places. I love how you don’t need to know art in order to appreciate street art: Coffee Break speaks to everyone. Its beauty is straightforward, its significance subjective and therefore universal. It requires no explanation. I love how it can’t be bought or sold, how it can be enjoyed by anyone at any given moment. Street art is a gift, and as such, priceless.
I don’t even particularly want to know who made what — actually, I’d rather not know who made what, preferring to think of street art as a genius loci, the spirit of a place manifesting itself on its walls.
Pigneto, the hip, mostly run-down area where I live, is nothing you would’ve seen in Paolo Sorrentino’s The Great Beauty. As such, it’s street art’s natural setting. I waited for a sunny day, grabbed my boyfriend’s camera and started walking. Only a fraction of what I photographed ended up in this story.
One of the things I love the most is seeing the many creative ways in which street artists work around the physical limitations of the space they use, and make them work to their advantage. Pigneto was beloved by Pier Paolo Pasolini, one of Italy’s foremost intellectuals. Pasolini was murdered in 1975 (he was officially killed by young hustler Pino Pelosi, but many suspect that Pelosi wasn’t alone and that the murder may have had political and homophobic implications); in the years when he was living in Rome, a large part of Pigneto was little more than a jumble of shacks, home to the poorest. Here, several works of art memorialize Pasolini’s presence and pay tribute to his legacy. Do I have to know the backstory of each mural to enjoy them? It’s nice, but not essential. They’re breathtaking in their own right.
Some of the street art I photographed during my little hike is tinged with sadness. These lovely murals, now partly defaced, decorate the outer walls of the former Circolo degli Artisti, once the hub of the Roman indie music scene, which was shut down in March 2015. Seen from outside its high metal gates, the place reminded me of Mary Lennox’s secret garden in Frances Hodgson Burnett’s novel. I wonder if anyone’s been taking care of the rose bushes.
Close to Circolo degli Artisti is Init, another music venue. This graffiti, the closest thing to traditional hip hop art I found in the area, is painted on the wall next to the entrance.
Pigneto and the adjacent Tor Pignattara are home to a large Bangladeshi community. In spite of all the efforts by national media to depict the area as a seething hotbed of Islamic propaganda and urban violence, life here is mostly peaceful. My friend Nadia Terranova, who showed me this mural, calls it “The Bangladeshi Madonna”. It’s just around the corner from Albert, but I’d never seen it before.
Some of the art is explicitly political. These murals protesting Europe’s abysmal treatment of the refugee crisis are painted on the walls of the school where I vote.
Mandrione is an idyllic subsection of Pigneto framed by the ruins of the ancient Roman aqueduct. Not much here, except for this stunning piece of art.
I also loved this graceful, melancholy creature painted on a wall nearby. I’d never noticed it before, although it’s obviously been there for quite a while.
I saved the best for last. “Let me take you to the fox”, Nadia said. “It’s the cutest thing ever.”
And here it is. The trees in bloom facing it give it a lovely depth, like a Japanese manga dream. I could look at this forever.
It’s another sunny day. I might go out again.
Thanks again to Nadia Terranova for walking with me.
Update and correction: the fox is actually a red panda! Thanks to Istranzu for pointing this out to me on Twitter.
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