"Art renews nations and reveals their lives", read the epigraph engraved at the entrance of the Teatro Massimo in Palermo. And it is almost a manifesto: art renews nations and even neighbourhoods.
Dozens, hundreds of projects worldwide have seen street art as the key figure of an extraordinary change, of a development. It changed its sign and left an even more scratchy mark. Perceived as a mould-breaking operation at the beginning – if not as a smear to be removed – it has now turned into a gesture that enhances its innovative capacity, participates in the regeneration of cities and, more and more often, of people as well.
In Italy alone: MurArte in Turin – it was 1999; then RestArt in Imola, 2015; Parco Dei Murales in Naples; besides neighbourhoods in Milan, Rome, Bologna and Ancona. And also entire villages, such as Civitacampomarano – a small village in Molise where the Cvtà Street Fest has gathered street artists from all over the world since 2016, reviving a place at risk of disappearing in a state of neglect. Instead, it has been turned into a living place, enriched with new activities.
When debating on this form of art, "neglect" and “cure" are recurring terms: it would seem that street art is the healer for places – and people – suffering from neglect.
In efficient Milan, a municipal office "Arte negli spazi pubblici” was born in 2020, while, even before, Inward – Centro Territoriale per la Creatività Urbana has been active since the early 90s. It is an oversight body and an advocate of countless activities based in Naples.
The idea is simple: colour makes cities beautiful, and artistic activity is an aggregator, a tourist engine and a powerful tool for cultural growth as well. It is no coincidence that there are successful dedicated tours in many cities. But there is much more because this art form is universal and multidirectional: it creates bridges even between institutions; it fosters and encourages the twinning arrangement between cities; it brings and brings back experiences in areas, neighbourhoods, which otherwise would stay in the darkness of their neglect (here we go again).
So, it happens that street artists such as Como-born Ema Jones, Aris from Viareggio and Alleg from Abruzzo arrived in Palermo in 2012 for Borgo Vecchio Factory. It was a project aimed at recovering some areas of the Borgo Vecchio neighbourhood – one of the four historical markets of the city – supported by the non-profit organisations Arteca and Per Esempio, in collaboration with Push, which also deals with social innovation.
A few years later, it would be Ballarò Tale - SOS Ballarò and Per Esempio Onlus to resume and develop the same principle in another Palermo’s market – better known and larger than Borgo Vecchio, but affected by the same deep-rooted problem of neglect.
With Ballarò Tale, Igor Scalisi created an illustrated story of the neighbourhood from the inside, working in a participatory and integrated process with the local children – from the storytelling to writing and illustration. In 2018, it came the turn of the Vuccirìa – an even more degraded market – where Igor painted a huge work on the door of a construction site ("Santa Morte"). Finally, the project "Sperone 167 – per una comunità della cura” was conceived in those days, together with the twinned Apulian city for reviving two ‘difficult’ suburbs – the Sperone in Palermo and the 167 in Lecce. Co realised by Igor Scalisi and the artist Francesco Ferreri, aka Chekos, the project also involved the schools of the two districts Sperone - Pertini in Palermo and P. Stomeo - G. Zimbalo in Lecce.
The projects share the ability to talk to people through art: a form of human regeneration that includes urban renewal; a vision that opposes the light of colour to the greyness of neglect, involving the community in "respecting the public good", the neighbourhood and its own creation as well. Because this is the only way to make people feel their spaces again: exhorting people to create them, thus, you can create a relationship between men and things, a creative and active relationship in a virtuous circle of care and attention. We talked about it with Igor Scalisi:
“Palermo isn’t perfect. Cities aren’t perfect. They are like families: some of them work more than others. Some siblings are talented at doing something while others at doing something else. Some do well, and others don’t. And yet, this is the reason why there’s ample room for improvement.
Certain places are fragile, scarred by long-lasting abandonment, just like people. And the longer the neglect, the more complex and prolonged the cure. Nonetheless, there is a cure, and we can do a lot.
I like painting walls. I believe in collective actions that are good for people. Painting walls with children is good for our spirit. It brings well-being to society. And not only because the wall becomes more beautiful, but also for the action itself that takes place under the eyes of all. While we are painting, it happens that people pass by. Sometimes, they comment on and, some other times, come to paint. Thus, the wall belongs to the passers by, too, returning to be a really collective good. This practice is a small substantial revolution of our everyday life.
I imagine the asphalt of this city like skin. Palermo is a beautiful and battered body, and maybe, it’s beautiful because it’s battered, because this is its history, and we, too, have participated. So, certain actions are like caresses for this skin, a treatment for this body.
Taking good care is a necessary act. It serves either receivers or ‘caregivers’. We all need to take good care, as well as we need someone who takes good care of us. Sometimes, life itself leads you to be humble and ask for help, but other times, it gives you a huge chance to be the one who takes care. And both are necessary phases. They are moments.
I’m a strong but also highly fragile person: I take care of my inner child by taking care of other children and, yes, I do myself good by doing others good.
I was, and I am very fortunate. I have met people in my life who have put me at the centre of their heart, welcoming me into their families.
My life has not been a linear journey, and thanks to that, I’ve experienced PROVIDENCE in its most secular and profoundly spiritual meaning. After my years in a convent, my mother had recently died when I returned, and I didn’t have a penny. I didn’t even have a fridge at home. And yet, I’ve never run out of bread. Thanks to those who have put me at the centre of their heart, I've always eaten my fill. They have welcomed me into their families. I believe that our fortune also depends on how much we are able to give ourselves. Karma exists, and good returns: there’s a circularity of good. Shall we call it luck? The point is: I don't believe in rotten luck. I believe in its opposite, and the opposite of rotten luck is good.”
