Genius Loci: The Street Art of Rome, pt. 2

Villa Certosa (a subsection of Tor Pignattara) is one of those places where Rome looks less like a vast metropolitan area and more like a small village, all tiny houses and dainty gardens and the faint, sweet smell of flowers.

Ciro Principessa was stabbed to death by neo-fascist militant Claudio Minetti in 1979, while he was volunteering as librarian in the Tor Pignattara section of the Italian Communist Party. Villa Certosa, like Pigneto, is largely left-leaning and considers Principessa a local hero.

Tor Pignattara proper is the roughest neighbourhood in the area. Which, as in Pigneto, makes it the best environment for street art. I never research murals before I leave the house, preferring to chance upon them serendipitously, like one would with mushrooms: being surprised is part of the fun.

In the afternoon I walked the opposite way, towards Largo Preneste. The walls enclosing the local health centre are covered in graffiti; the ones on the front wall (the most beautiful) have sadly been defaced and are now impossible to portray due to the rows of billboards that have been placed in front. We’re in the middle of the campaign for Mayor of Rome, something I do not wish to go into as it’s too depressing for words.
The other sides of the wall are largely intact and very, very colourful.

Quadraro was my fourth stop: located next to Tor Pignattara, it shares a soul with its neighbour that is clearly depicted in the murals painted around the skating rink in the park near the beautiful arches of the Acquedotto Alessandrino. It’s a nicer, quieter version of Pigneto, with small houses that were probably shacks just a few decades ago.

The face on the right in the following painting belongs to Stefano Cucchi, a an on-and-off addict from Tor Pignattara who was arrested on drug dealing charges and died while in police custody following what appears to be a savage beating (warning: don’t do an image search unless you want to see his dead body). So far, no one has been held accountable for his death and his sister, Ilaria Cucchi, is still fighting for justice.

Quadraro (like Tormarancia, in south-western Rome) is one of those places where street art is encouraged and organized, and therefore largely voided of its subversive drive. Progetto M.U.Ro is an open-air museum project in Quadraro: on the morning of her walk there, Yours Truly and her camera actually came across a group of visitors being led around to view the paintings. I confess I was a little put off.

Still, the art is fantastic. Here’s Alice Pasquini.

The following mural is not featured on the Progetto M.U.Ro website, so it might be a rogue one, which only makes me love it more. It was made by Alexey Luka.

Buff Monster is really into pink. I mean, really into pink.

Rome is home to a lively, heavily politicized hip hop scene that remains largely out of the mainstream. This painting by Daniele Tozzi aka Pepsy uses words from Kaos One’s Il codice. Kaos One — who is actually tied to the Bolognese hip hop scene — is part of the first wave of Italian hip hop artists, and like many got his start as a writer: Il codice is about writing.

The following requires a bit of explanation. According to local mythology, Rome was founded by Romulus, brother of Remus, a pair of twins born to priestess Rhea Silvia, who had been raped by the god of war Mars (that was the way of the gods, I suppose). Rhea Silvia was put to death for breaking her vow of chastity, and the children (much like Moses in the Bible) were placed in a basket and set adrift in the Aniene river, where they were rescued by a she-wolf, who nursed them. The wolf and the babies are still the symbol of Rome, and this mural portrays her grief as her children leave her to find fortune abroad, much like many young Italians. The author is Maupal.

Somebody parked in front of one of my favourites, which is par for the course, but it’s still gorgeous. The artist is Fin Dac.

This is probably the best-known piece of the whole lot, so much so that it’s turning into a landmark. It is, admittedly, amazing. The way the architecture of the house is used to frame the artwork is beyond gorgeous. It’s by Veks Van Hillik.

This wall on via dei Quintili is creepy and beautiful at the same time. Again, it’s not on the website, but there appears to be some resistance on the part of local artists against the M.U.Ro project, and I suspect this might be one of its manifestations.

The following picture is a little wonky (sorry) but relevant to this story. The writing on the wall says: “Via dei Quintili is ours… and Banksy sucks.”

Moving on: this is my absolute favourite. The trompe-l’oeil shading looks even better in pictures than it does live. It’s by Ron English.
It makes you want to touch it to see if it’s real — and you can, because it’s on a wall, on the street.

Diavù is one of the artists who helped create M.U.Ro. The face of the devil below is that of Totò, one of Italy’s most beloved comedians of the ’40s and ’50s and still one of the symbols of Italian culture and the Neapolitan spirit. “E io pago” (“And I pay”) is one of his most famous lines, and it was clearly added in by someone else after Diavù left the bubble empty. There’s a lot of Italy, here.

A little bit of Picasso, a lot of Modigliani, all Quadraro: this was done by Jim Avignon. Bonus: it’s on the side of the best restaurant in the area.

This long wall has been partly defaced (sad), but it’s still a burst of colour. The Dilkabear artwork in the header was also a little further down on this street, but it was so pretty that it hurt to see it defaced, which is why I went in for the details.

Last but not least, this. It was made by Beau Stanton and again, I love how it incorporates the rough surface of the run-down house into the artwork.

That’s it. I don’t know where I’ll go next. Just watch this space, ok?

This is the second installment in a series that may or may not continue. Here’s the first!