Back in the days when I lived in Turin, I went along to several parties. One particular one stood out. I don’t remember the name of the venue, only that everybody referred to it as “at the zoo”. From what I can see now by peeking through the rusty gate on Corso Casale, the alternative club where I partied is permanently closed, like all the other shacks dotting the 25,000 sqm area of Turin’s ex-zoo.
When it doesn’t hit the headlines, Fontanelle is a quiet neighbourhood.
I loved Pescara for being so silent, and yet the city gets even more serene in Fontanelle. The neighbourhood is pervaded by a calming hush, which is occasionally interrupted by a church bell rung from the top of a little hill.
It was by no means too late to leave the room. No matter how desperately I needed to be at the ‘tunnels’, I overheard that painful breakup story for too long to act indifferent in front of the man at the other side of the thin drywall, who had just confessed “I’m here because my heart is broken; my relationship hasn’t ended yet, but I can see the end approaching.”
Born out of a fierce need for expression of strong social disadvantage, every year street art is becoming more and more vanilla.
The spreading of urban art festivals has a lot to do with it: curators usually want something aesthetically nice, which will please everybody.
It’s gone from a tool to convey radical political messages. Now street art has become a ‘tool’ to decorate walls – probably the cheapest way for public administrations to show that some action has been taken to redevelop the outskirts, even if they’re only putting up a façade (no pun intended).
Goosebumps rise on my arms as I enter the former VEB Spezialmaschinenfabrik factory for the last time. I do the same tour I’ve taken many times a day for the last ten days: entering from Club Desolat’s collaborative passageway, carrying on straight towards Miezwars’ sculptures, then back on my footsteps and up on the staircase dotted with Taina’s cute monsters.
Except, this is the last time I’m having The Tour.
Despite the fact that 100+ artists are painting, building, welding and creating non-stop since one week, the former VEB Spezialmaschinenfabrik is so huge that for the whole time there has been plenty of empty corners waiting to be claimed. Therefore, the artists have had the opportunity to experiment, collaborate and go beyond their usual work, since once the ‘main piece’ was done –and consequentially the performance anxiety was gone- this huge empty space appeared to them as full of possibilities.
Even if I arrived only two days ago, the abandoned factory VEB Spezialmaschinenfabrik has already changed a lot.
I remember the first-day feeling of walking on glass debris while venturing into the empty belly of the whale and through its dark bowels.
When the afternoon light entering from the broken panes and cutting diagonally the air was the most tangible thing in a room.
After the unexpected first half of my summer in Malta between teenagers and boat parties, it’s about time to get some work done and behave as a professional street art blogger.
Festival season is about to begin and my 2017 schedule is already pretty hectic -but I’m going to take the lid off my summer plans one festival at a time. ;)
If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, you’ll know I’ve recently spent some snout-in-the-air time among Ragusa’s sinuous iron gratings, which garnish balconies as gargoyles stick out their tongues at each other from opposite sides of the street.
(That’s what I call a Baroque description. Ha).
After attending so many urban art festivals in the last year, it was so refreshing to wander around the alleys of Tel Aviv! Here the street art is still young, spontaneous, and new to my eyes.
Known as the city that never sleeps, Tel Aviv has a growing street art scene that is vibrant and very diverse. While some artists directly address political issues, others just want to beautify the streets and use their colourful art to make people forget about their problems (and the fact that they are living in a war zone).