BROOKLYN STREET ART LOVES YOU MORE EVERY DAY
Ten summers later, the Cvta Street Fest in Civitacampomarano is still a stubborn bonfire in Molise that refuses to extinguish—exactly the kind of smoldering ruin that draws Elfo like a moth with a paint roller. The village, half-abandoned and sliding gently into the weeds, gives him a ready-made stage set: crumbling stucco, porous stone, and few humans around to complain if the punch line lands a little hard. Perfect. Elfo, the “ever-clever minimalist” who prefers snappy text to splashy figuration, once again proves that a few uneven letters can shout louder than a ten-story portrait.
With “Mary Poppins Go Home,” he greets Civita’s volunteer army—those locals who sweep, scrub, and scaffold their way through festival week—with a wink and a nudge. No magical nanny descends from the clouds here however; this revival is strictly DIY. The brusque black letters, rolled straight onto a battered façade, laugh at both civic boosterism and the grand-mural industrial complex. The smallest of gestures, but he still lands a wallop – deserved or not.
Writer Giulia Blocal Riva describes it this way: “Rejecting the gigantism of large-scale murals, Elfo created three text-based works in Civitacampomarano—ironic, provocative, and surreal interventions. With nothing but a paint roller, the artist offered a reflection on the village’s condition, caught between depopulation and renewal.”
The vibe stays punch-drunk with “Hey Macarena Aiy”—a title that mashes up ’90s dance fever with this town now neglected – a strange nostalgic ennui that now haunts the age we live in. Elfo’s scrawl stretches across a wall so pitted it looks pre-chewed, teasing Civita’s awkward shuffle from near-ghost-town to Insta-friendly tourist stop.
Riva says: ” plays on the tension between the past, the present, and a possible future. Once nearly abandoned, the village is slowly becoming a tourist destination—thanks in large part to public art projects that have brought it to wider attention.” And, we may add, publishers and platforms like this one.
Finally comes the two-word mic-drop “Dubai Dubai,” comparing Molise’s cracked masonry to the Gulf’s glass pyramids. It’s a laugh-out-loud mismatch that also stings—why chase sterile luxury when you’ve got real history flaking into your lap? Says Riva, “Dubai Dubai draws its irony from the stark contrast—visual, social, and historical—between the tiny Molisan village and the hyper-modern metropolis of Dubai.”
Berlin Berlin. New York New York. Tokyo Tokyo. London London.
In classic Elfo fashion—part vandal, part stand-up philosopher—these three text pieces turn neglect into a canvas.
