The Falling Angels

Scorched.  Damaged.  Bitten.  Wounded.  Undermined.  Abused.  Falling, falling… fallen?  JDL Street Art once again grips us where it hurts the most, mirroring our freefall into a manmade darkness that can only last while we willingly give in and give out, while we willingly surrender to the dive and accelerate the fall.  Falling, but not yet fallen.  It’s all in her trademark, distinctive in both content and form, art and neighborhood, message and location. No wonder that her latest work about the climate crisis, symbolized by a female version of Icarus, falls and rises from the top of the symbolic Serpentone Corviale building in Rome.

Stretching over one kilometer, the massive Corviale housing project was originally intended to house a growing population in the southern suburbs of Rome.  Architect Mario Fiorentini who designed and led the development of the project between 1972 and 1974, originally intended for the Corviale to be a utopian and self-regulating community, an alternative to the then-mushrooming neighborhoods called “dormitory districts” that lacked services. 

But in 1982 the project’s contractor went bankrupt, and the development of all community and commercial services in the complex fell into oblivion.  A fallen ambition.

Stretching over one kilometer, the Serpentone building or the Snake in Italian, bit back at the original developers and, sadly, at the local community as well.  Much of the complex was squatted and abandoned, and while some wealthy owners live there, it is mainly inhabited today by families that are challenged both socially and financially. 

A falling community?  Perchance.  But definitely not fallen.  For despite the “concrete monstrosity” of the building as described by some, creative and renaissance initiatives have revisited the complex in recent years in an effort to rekindle the relationship between its residents and the Corviale urban context.  One of these initiatives is Street Art for Rights whose mission is to put on the map social, economic and cultural causes by bringing art to neighborhoods with difficult backgrounds.  Putting on the map such issues literally becomes putting on the neighborhoods’ walls such issues, and with over 30 murals executed so far in the suburbs of Corviale and Settecamini in Rome, and in Lazio between Cassino, Fiumicino and Latina, Street Art for Rights has been making some interesting visual noise.

Giuseppe Casa is behind the concept.  Curated by Oriana Rizzuto for MArte Gallery and produced by the Cultural Association ARTmosfera, the idea originally started in 2014 as a special festival project for the MArteLive Biennial and evolved in the past 9 years to branch out and cross borders under the European Union’s Creative Program.  Urban street art steps into other European isolated and special neighborhoods, with the objective of highlighting key social issues to a larger European and international audience.

The street art seed for rights was planted in Italy – in Corviale to be more specific, for all what this neighborhood symbolizes.  And who better than JDL to inaugurate the first phase of this unique European project?

Fighting frost and rain this past December, JDL paved the way for the project and the open-air museum as intended by Street Art for Rights.  With the fantastic support of a league of her peers, Spike, Smok, Marqus, Boogie, Joys and the stainless team of Street Art for Rights, she executed the biggest mural of Rome.  Although it will be available temporarily for two years as the complex will be renovated under Italy’s National Recovery and Resilience Plan, the mural will however be immortalized and converted into an NFT, with proceeds donated to a neighborhood charity.

Judith de Leeuw alias JDL is a woman of few words, yet when she calls for the change that our world needs, she is unstoppable from the top of all international masonries.   With her art, she speaks loudly and with many words, bringing forward the unseen, the unheard, the misunderstood, the sinful, the victim and the criminal, the innocent and the abused – all in a full-frontal artistic message that, if it does not push us to create the change we want for our world, it at least forces us to ask the most daring questions: who are those people on the wall, what is their story, and how can we together create the change that we need for our world?

As such, the female version of Icarus came to be. 

Despite having been warned to fly neither too high nor too low to avoid burning his wings, Icarus became zealous once he had a taste of the rush and excitement, once he started reaching higher grounds. A blinded eagerness for more skies and higher altitudes that melted his wings under the sun, and cost him his life.  A disproportionate ambition aligned with an unnecessary ego in one mural, to bring attention to the climate crisis. 

The society we live in today is designed to be more efficient, producing bigger amounts with fewer tools.  Small farmers are replaced by big factories, and horses by cars.  Even though our society is designed with the best intentions, the climate crisis we live in today proves that our ambition and ego as humankind might have grown excessively, JDL writes.

Icarus, a woman under the vision of JDL, is freefalling.  Her wings can no longer carry her.  They are heavy with oil.  Falling, falling…. fallen? Not yet.  For she still may have a chance at life.  She may still return to her skies, but only if she clears the oil out of her feathers and wings, only if she creates the change that she wants – and needs – for her world. 

On this symbolic Snake building, Icarus, she, her, the woman, seems to also represent Mother Earth.  Damaged, polluted, soiled and stained by the falling Man.  Is there hope still for her?

JDL’s work strikes many chords.  Yet the common denominator remains her connection with our modern world’s social prisons, these secluded and isolated neighborhoods that most of us prefer not to hear about – let alone step into.  On this symbolic Serpentone building, she chose not to erase some of the inscriptions created at the base of her mural by the youth of Corviale.  Another message she conveys to us as she brings the community from behind the dark walls of Corviale and out into the light, facing the world from the top of a 40-meter wall. 

“Mother Earth is in pain!” her mural shouts. 

“Ah, but don’t forget the falling angels”, JDL seems to be whispering…

The post The Falling Angels first appeared on street art united states.
by Myriam Shwayri via street art united states

If Stonemasons Could Talk

What would they say? From hand chiseling blocks of stone to shaping, polishing and leveling stones with the use of a wide range of sophisticated power tools, these unsung heroes have been romancing the stone since the ancient times, contributing to the development of historic and modern structures.  David de la Mano and Pablo S. Herrero pay tribute to these anonymous wizards by giving them a space to “breathe”, right in the heart of the “Golden City”, Salamanca, a historical city famous for its sandstone and outstanding constructions.

There must be some magic behind these rough hands that work the stone.  While architects may have originally designed a building, construction, statue or edifice, stonemasons however remain the skillful craftsmen who bring life to these structures that have defined our world and civilizations.  From the Egyptian Pyramids, to Stonehenge, the Taj Mahal, Petra, Uxmal, the Parthenon and the great Churches and Cathedrals of medieval Europe to name just a few, stonemasons have left their marks on this earth – and this is not said randomly, for if you look closely at the stones, you will find masons’ marks on medieval stonework, defining different types of stonework, stonemasons or construction techniques.

Geometric in form, these marks remain a source of mystery: they were either made by the lower standard masons whose job was to rough out the stone, or by highly-skilled masons who would undertake more sophisticated tasks such as detailed carving or molding.  Some say that these symbols define the place where the stones were shipped to out of the quarry.  Others believe that each mason had his own identity mark that he would pass it on to the following generation.

These marks could also be regarded as a form of quality control once a job is completed, a way for stonemasons to rightly sign off their work just like any artist would, but with a symbol that was theirs.  Some sort of a secret code, maybe?  Here, the plot thickens as some also believe that certain masons used these symbols as ritual protection marks for their work.  Who knows?  What all agree on however, is that these symbols represent a language known only within the early guild of these skilled workers.

Yet no matter what they mean, it is clear that “similarities between those used by the ancient Egyptians, the early Islamic architects, and the craftsmen of the Middle Ages onwards are striking”, Philippa Lee shares in her interesting and detailed study. Thus if stones can neither talk nor communicate, stonemasons surely could, for it is fascinating how geometric patterns are quite similar irrespective of the times, distances, civilizations and ages that separate the stonemasons or the craftsmen who carved them.

So, who were these fascinating immortal craftsmen who clearly seemed to have similar interests irrespective of geography and time, and what did these symbols mean to them?  And in the heart of Salamanca, what could have gone through their minds while working the famous ochre Villamayor stone and building the Catedral Vieja, the Escuelas Menores, or the Convento de San Esteban?

We rarely think of the stonemasons when we visit such impressive constructions, but in collaboration with The PICA association, the Department of Culture and the Town Hall of Villamayor, David and Pablo wanted to guide us towards the common workers and pay tribute to these anonymous craftsmen who remain a mystery to us all.

One could imagine them working relentlessly under the beating Salamanca sun.  Others might picture them basking in the sun in a field of wheat while on their well-deserved break, breathing peacefully while they imagine the people who would live in the structure they are completing – while they imagine the people who would give a life and a meaning to the stones they spent hours shaping with sweat and blood, with their very own rough hands.

There, in that field of dancing wheat, their head rested on the ground and their eyes fixating the golden sandstone of Salamanca, these magicians of the stone would then perhaps imagine the shape of the mark they would chisel on the stone as a form of communication with the ones who would live in that structure, a distant greeting – or maybe a blessing – a humble and simple wink, hello, and mark inspired from the surrounding nature, and that would hold a personal meaning to them, only to them, yet carved on such a magnificent and imposing structure that would be recognized worldwide and across all civilizations.

This is how the mural “Breathe” came to be.  It is “a reflective rest – one that connects you with nature, with the earth and with the universe”, David writes.  It is fascinating how humble and modest stonemasons left this world with some fascinating structures, yet they made no name for themselves.  They only left these geometric symbols that remain a mystery to us all but that must have meant the world to them.  Worldwide recognition is hardly what these common workers were looking for, and this mural is a tribute to them.

A symbolic tribute as the body of the resting man is adorned with a crowd of stonemason marks, all created by children from Villamayor and Salamanca who stenciled and freehand painted the marks, under the guidance of Pablo and David.  A recognition.  A tribute.  A sincere appreciation from this generation to the one of gifted craftsmen who left their marks on some historical constructions.

“Breathe” poetically shares the stonemasons’ tradition: no matter how common we may seem to others, we can leave our distinctive mark on this earth.  For in the end, all what matters is to connect with our fellow men, lie down in nature and simply, Breathe.

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The post If Stonemasons Could Talk first appeared on street art united states.
by Myriam Shwayri via street art united states

If Stonemasons Could Talk

What would they say? From hand chiseling blocks of stone to shaping, polishing and leveling stones with the use of a wide range of sophisticated power tools, these unsung heroes have been romancing the stone since the ancient times, contributing to the development of historic and modern structures.  David de la Mano and Pablo S. Herrero pay tribute to these anonymous wizards by giving them a space to “breathe”, right in the heart of the “Golden City”, Salamanca, a historical city famous for its sandstone and outstanding constructions.

There must be some magic behind these rough hands that work the stone.  While architects may have originally designed a building, construction, statue or edifice, stonemasons however remain the skillful craftsmen who bring life to these structures that have defined our world and civilizations.  From the Egyptian Pyramids, to Stonehenge, the Taj Mahal, Petra, Uxmal, the Parthenon and the great Churches and Cathedrals of medieval Europe to name just a few, stonemasons have left their marks on this earth – and this is not said randomly, for if you look closely at the stones, you will find masons’ marks on medieval stonework, defining different types of stonework, stonemasons or construction techniques.

Geometric in form, these marks remain a source of mystery: they were either made by the lower standard masons whose job was to rough out the stone, or by highly-skilled masons who would undertake more sophisticated tasks such as detailed carving or molding.  Some say that these symbols define the place where the stones were shipped to out of the quarry.  Others believe that each mason had his own identity mark that he would pass it on to the following generation.

These marks could also be regarded as a form of quality control once a job is completed, a way for stonemasons to rightly sign off their work just like any artist would, but with a symbol that was theirs.  Some sort of a secret code, maybe?  Here, the plot thickens as some also believe that certain masons used these symbols as ritual protection marks for their work.  Who knows?  What all agree on however, is that these symbols represent a language known only within the early guild of these skilled workers.

Yet no matter what they mean, it is clear that “similarities between those used by the ancient Egyptians, the early Islamic architects, and the craftsmen of the Middle Ages onwards are striking”, Philippa Lee shares in her interesting and detailed study. Thus if stones can neither talk nor communicate, stonemasons surely could, for it is fascinating how geometric patterns are quite similar irrespective of the times, distances, civilizations and ages that separate the stonemasons or the craftsmen who carved them.

So, who were these fascinating immortal craftsmen who clearly seemed to have similar interests irrespective of geography and time, and what did these symbols mean to them?  And in the heart of Salamanca, what could have gone through their minds while working the famous ochre Villamayor stone and building the Catedral Vieja, the Escuelas Menores, or the Convento de San Esteban?

We rarely think of the stonemasons when we visit such impressive constructions, but in collaboration with The PICA association, the Department of Culture and the Town Hall of Villamayor, David and Pablo wanted to guide us towards the common workers and pay tribute to these anonymous craftsmen who remain a mystery to us all.

One could imagine them working relentlessly under the beating Salamanca sun.  Others might picture them basking in the sun in a field of wheat while on their well-deserved break, breathing peacefully while they imagine the people who would live in the structure they are completing – while they imagine the people who would give a life and a meaning to the stones they spent hours shaping with sweat and blood, with their very own rough hands.

There, in that field of dancing wheat, their head rested on the ground and their eyes fixating the golden sandstone of Salamanca, these magicians of the stone would then perhaps imagine the shape of the mark they would chisel on the stone as a form of communication with the ones who would live in that structure, a distant greeting – or maybe a blessing – a humble and simple wink, hello, and mark inspired from the surrounding nature, and that would hold a personal meaning to them, only to them, yet carved on such a magnificent and imposing structure that would be recognized worldwide and across all civilizations.

This is how the mural “Breathe” came to be.  It is “a reflective rest – one that connects you with nature, with the earth and with the universe”, David writes.  It is fascinating how humble and modest stonemasons left this world with some fascinating structures, yet they made no name for themselves.  They only left these geometric symbols that remain a mystery to us all but that must have meant the world to them.  Worldwide recognition is hardly what these common workers were looking for, and this mural is a tribute to them.

A symbolic tribute as the body of the resting man is adorned with a crowd of stonemason marks, all created by children from Villamayor and Salamanca who stenciled and freehand painted the marks, under the guidance of Pablo and David.  A recognition.  A tribute.  A sincere appreciation from this generation to the one of gifted craftsmen who left their marks on some historical constructions.

“Breathe” poetically shares the stonemasons’ tradition: no matter how common we may seem to others, we can leave our distinctive mark on this earth.  For in the end, all what matters is to connect with our fellow men, lie down in nature and simply, Breathe.

---

 

The post If Stonemasons Could Talk first appeared on street art united states.
by Myriam Shwayri via street art united states