The Graffiti "Superheroes" by Angie Balata
The Graffiti "Superheroes"
By Angie Balata
Much of the articles on graffiti in Egypt have been a recycling of explanations revolving around the singular, though mistaken, idea that the mad rush to paint Egypt’s walls is some novel phenomenon reflecting the “peoples” new found freedom.
The story of graffiti in Cairo begins long before the Revolution, by individuals and one company that have worked quietly in the shadows under the very eyes of the state. Predating the revolution, graffiti had existed on Cairo’s streets fleetingly, yet prominently. Cairo’s walls were adorned with an unusual mixture of love declarations (often a boy named Ahmed and whatever girl he was fancying), claims to football club greatness by various football fans, the odd advertisements for apartment rentals, the bizarrely prevalent stencil ad for Rasha Car (a driving school that has been stenciling ads for years around Cairo) and religious pronouncements. But graffiti, as a movement really began in a place far from Cairo in a time long before the revolution.
On the shores of the Mediterranean, far from the centralised bureaucracy, intense government repression and the ever-vigorous eyes of state police, Alexandria exists as the closest thing to a haven in Egypt. Often the quiet leader of intellectual thought and art production, this city is rarely given its due for its tremendous accomplishments, including offering a safe ground for writers, artists, and activists to engage in much needed interaction with each other and with the outside world. There, in the downtown core, an 18-year-old girl began a quiet movement to reclaim public access to art and to space. “I began in 2008. The approach was different – it wasn’t political. I’ve never worked for anything political. I can’t say I’m an intellect. I’m visually based…I began in 2008 when there wasn’t anything to begin with…so we’re the trend starters,” says Aya Tarek Hassan to me in a coffee shop at one of Alexandria’s seaside.
To set the record straight, if we want to properly talk graffiti, then we must begin with Aya. The granddaughter of a prominent movie poster artist, she has made a reputation for herself as being a maverick, daring to experiment with art in ways that belies her young age. This petite girl is full of such passionate dedication and an overwhelming sense of professionalism that she herself is as great of a story as her artwork. Aya figured prominently in Ahmed Abdallah’s Microphone, an indie film on the underground art scene in Alexandria and is often a key stop in understanding the Alexandrian independent art scene. Despite being a true rebel artist, her contributions have been lost to the roaming journalists who have focused solely on Cairo. Excluded from the elitist circles of the art community and not totally fitting in with the general atmosphere at the Fine Arts College where she first started, Aya decided to not just create her own community, but her own art form. Breaking the lines of conformity and revising the rules of individuality, in a society often comfortable with hegemony and the ordinary, Aya began using graffiti as a way to take back public space and to assert her being. “Graffiti,” she says, “is not about being rich, or having a secluded space.” Graffiti for her was about an expression and affirmation that art was for all and not something to be invited to or to pay for. Art was about making spaces open. Choosing the streets, in particular, was not just the perfect tool for a self-described misfit, but it represented a safe place: “The street won’t judge you the way that other places do it.”
Excerpt from 'The Graffiti "Superheroes' by Angie Balata | Article courtesy of Kalimat Magazine (Issue 3, Fall 2011). For the full article click here.
Images
Top (portrait): Reads: “I do not vandalise my intentions are honest.” Found on the back walls of the Mogamma’a, the main government administrative building in the center of Tahrir and the site of most concentrated explosion of graffiti throughout the Revolution. Artist: HK
Bottom (landscape): Mural movie poster for the indie film, Microphone. Graffiti by Aya Tarek and photo courtesy of Tareky Hefny
Thumbnail: Mural by Sad Panda depicting various figures, moments, and locations related to the revolution. It is couched between lighter murals of the Egyptian flag and various “happy” symbols in the Sawra tunnel of the Heliopolis suburb in Cairo. The piece is a strong statement on the current state of chaos felt by many.
About Kalimat Magazine
Launched in 2010, Kalimat magazine is a social, cultural and political quarterly committed to providing an outlet for open expression within the Arab region and its Diaspora. At the same time, it is a visual communication tool that serves to educate both those who read it and work to create it.