Interview with Doug Gillen | Video Feature from Fifth Wall TV
Ghosts of concrete modernism and whispered nostalgia drift through “The Morning Will Change Everything,” the first solo museum exhibition by Spanish artist Sebas Velasco, now on view at the History Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina in Sarajevo. In this new video interview, filmmaker and art observer Doug Gillen sits down with Velasco to unpack the layers of emotional and political weight carried in these oil-painted nocturnes—each a meditation on memory, architecture, and the complex afterglow of Yugoslavia’s post-socialist present.
Sebas Velasco. The Morning Will Change Everything. (image still from the video by Doug Gillen for Fifth Wall TV)
The conversation reflects Velasco’s realism, influenced by photography – reinterpreted by hand and heart. “It’s a love story with the region, for sure,” he tells Gillen, reflecting on years of travel and a growing personal bond with Sarajevo and its surrounding cities. His works hum, layering light, concrete, shadow, and silence to capture what it feels like. “Maybe the nostalgia I paint is for something I’ve never really known,” he says.
Sebas Velasco. The Morning Will Change Everything. (image still from the video by Doug Gillen for Fifth Wall TV)
Set inside the former Museum of the Revolution—a hulking modernist edifice now asserting its cultural relevance—the exhibition includes Velasco’s paintings alongside films, photographs, and collaborations that stretch across borders and disciplines. It’s an act of giving back to a city that continues to inspire. “We wanted this to be more than paintings on a wall,” he explains. “To feel like home—for other artists too.”
Watch the full interview below to hear from Velasco in his own words, and to feel the atmosphere of a show that makes the past present—and personal.
Sebas Velasco. The Morning Will Change Everything. (image still from the video by Doug Gillen for Fifth Wall TV)Sebas Velasco. The Morning Will Change Everything. (image still from the video by Doug Gillen for Fifth Wall TV)
The streets of Bushwick, Brooklyn right now are one sprawling open-air studio—artists from around the world balanced on cherry pickers, ladders, and step stools, bending brushes, tilting rollers, and waving aerosol cans like conductors directing an urban symphony of color. Thick lines, fine mists, reflections, textures, letterforms in every handstyle—they’re building volume and vibe, layering stories and style one gesture at a time.
Since transforming this once Dutch “town in the woods” into a global destination for graffiti and street art over a decade ago, Joe Ficalora has brought hundreds—more likely thousands—of pieces to these Brooklyn walls. A working-class, heavily industrial neighborhood with a strong immigrant presence for the last century, the new neighbors may not always understand the street culture that this movement grew from – often arriving with a whiff of suburban sensibility, but let’s be honest—they wouldn’t be here if the Bushwick Collective hadn’t turned the place into a magnet.
Graffiti writers know how to thrive in hostile environments. It’s built into the DNA. Street artists, too, have evolved with ingenuity and hustle since this worldwide boom began hitting walls in the ’90s. Ficalora’s no different—he’s stayed the course, taken the hits, and kept the engine running.
As tradition now demands, the Collective kicks off summer with a Brooklyn-style block party this weekend—thousands pouring into the streets to celebrate the visual feast. Our photographer. Jaime Rojo has been out documenting the latest wave of mural-making, capturing the energy before the crowds flood in.
What’s always set this apart is Ficalora’s instinct to unify. He’s given room to both graffiti kings and street art innovators, encouraging them to work side by side—and sometimes shoulder to shoulder. The hard lines between the two have softened over the years anyway; many street artists still tag graffiti as their first love, and plenty of writers have flexed into new directions. Cross-pollination is the norm, not the exception.
Add DJs, food trucks, neighborhood vendors, and this thing becomes more than a party—it’s community. Fourteen years deep, and like Joe says, it’s the journey, not the destination.
Although if you’re into street culture, this weekend in Bushwick is your destination, without doubt.
The George Floyd mural at Elgin and Ennis in Houston’s Third Ward has been quietly demolished — a move that caught many off guard, especially as the fifth anniversary of his death approached. More than a painting on a wall in the margins of the city, it was a community’s act of remembrance, a public reckoning, and a visual anchor for a moment when the country seemed to shift. To awaken.
And yet, here we are. Five years later, and it’s hard to say what lasting change took root. In some camps, being ‘woke’ is a pejorative, and going back to sleep is encouraged. The arc of justice bends, but it bends slowly. Or maybe it bends into circles.
Meanwhile in New York, a Banksy mural on a six-ton wall hit the auction block and… nothing. Not a single bid. Cue speculation: are we finally past the Banksy-buoyed street art boom that’s defined the last two decades? Or was the opening price just too steep? Maybe the rollout was sloppy. Maybe it was the economy. Whatever the reason, the silence in the salesroom is rare — and could signal a shift in the so-called urban contemporary art market.
And yet, the Banksy machine rolls on. At this point, there may be more Banksy museums than Starbucks — none sanctioned by the artist, of course, but still packing in the crowds. There’s The Banksy Museum in NYC, The World of Banksy in Paris, Museu Banksy in Barcelona and Madrid, and the touring Art of Banksy show, rolling through Jakarta, Melbourne, and Vancouver. It’s a brand now — maybe not quite as big as Mickey Mouse, but it’s definitely what cultural tourists reach for when they want a little edge with their museum day. What this says about the artist, the audience, or the architecture of commodified rebellion… you draw your own conclusions.
So here’s some of this week’s visual conversation from the street, including works from Shin, Crash One, GO, Ham, Hasp, Homesick, IMK, Jeff Henriquez, Mike King, Nela, Piggie the Pig, Queen Andrea, Stesi, Wetiko, Wild West, and Zimer.
In the evolving global dialogue of street art, it’s not often that two hemispheres collide with this much color, conviction, and cultural force. This summer in Amsterdam, STRAAT Museum hosts a rare and vital encounter: a comingling of Brazilian street expression in two distinct but interconnected exhibitions — Pixação: Resistance and Rebellion and NaLata X STRAAT. It is a vivid, timely lens on one of the world’s most influential street art cultures, bringing political urgency, spiritual depth, and unfiltered humanity into focus.
Born from the informal laboratories of public space, Brazilian urban art has long pushed boundaries — formal, legal, aesthetic — and nowhere is this more pronounced than in the uniquely raw language of pixação. The exhibition Pixação: Resistance and Rebellion opens a door onto this homegrown form of dissent, of visual style, and socio-political act. Featured artists like Cripta Djan, Eneri, and LIXOMANIA!.zé carry the weight of a movement that refuses erasure, climbing the vertical concrete of Brazil’s cities to inscribe messages in the margins, on the margins. Stark texts, monochrome, often illegible to outsiders, declare existence in a society rife with inequality.
Using archival photographs, personal ephemera, and newly created large-scale canvases now added to the STRAAT collection, this show documents and transmits a living code of resistance, still pulsing.
Later in the season, NaLata X STRAAT will aim the lens toward the international scope and creative exuberance of Brazil’s broader street art scene. Originating from the NaLata Festival in São Paulo, often described as a sprawling celebration of muralism, community, and expression — this collaboration brings works by Enivo, Magrela, Dolores Esos, Priscilla “Pri” Barbosa, Deco Treco, Lobot, and Mundano to the museum’s monumental walls, alongside new commissions from well-known and respected artists Speto and Tinho. These are paintings and dispatches — narratives from favelas and city squares.
At a moment when the world reckons with crumbling institutions and questions of equity, environment, and voice, these artists remind us that the public wall remains a crucial platform, not of power, but of people. Their color palettes burst with optimism, even as their messages carry critique. They are playful, poetic, personal, and political — sometimes all at once.
If you’ve ever wandered down Frost Street and caught a whiff of turpentine, weed, and burned toast, you may have walked right past the unmarked doorway where Williamsburg still quietly seethes and happily bubbles with creative resistance.
A community center, performance space, art gallery, flea market hybrid, the space welcomes you to the latest show, “Money Talks,” which doesn’t need an opening reception flier. It has its gravity and pull — the kind that draws a packed audience into a labyrinth of rooms, exhibition spaces, and performances. A sign of success, it spills onto the spring Friday night sidewalk, where smokers and sharp talkers hold court between sets by a shaggy 70s rock band that might or might not be ironic.
Inside, four artists — Specter, Rene, CASH4, and ITIN — served up a visual demolition of American currency and its cultural metaphors. It wasn’t bitter, but it wasn’t sweet. Like the Williamsburg of old, before the glass condos, this was salty, smart, funny, blunt. No manifestos on the wall, just wry, sharp-tongued critique told in paper pulp, paint, and political memory.
The anchor piece? Gabriel Specter’s massive currency-redesigned The State of America. A redux of the reverse of a dollar bill — if it had lived through January 6. The Capitol dome smokes like a symbol under siege, while foregrounded rioters pose in shades of government green. It’s beautifully executed, deeply personal, and visibly furious — a portrait of patriotism cracked in half. The loft is loud, the floor sticky, the ideas sharp. Money Talks doesn’t have a social media campaign, instead you feel like it has conviction. It doesn’t need a QR code. The rent may be high, but the spirit here is still gloriously low-rent — and unbought.
Specter, a visual bard of the 2000s and 2010s Brooklyn scene, known for work that didn’t just decorate the streets but spoke to social realities, talked to us about this piece — and about the spirit of a space that still knows how to host shows that mean something.
BSA: How would you characterize the space where “Money Talks” took place — not just physically, but in terms of its function as a creative platform? Is it more of a cultural incubator, a performance venue, or a kind of underground laboratory for dissent?
GS: The best way to describe the space is talking about the people who occupy it. Each person coming in and out of the studio, the workshop, performance and gallery space shapes it into a one-of-a-kind arts venue. To answer whether it is a cultural incubator, performance venue, or underground laboratory of dissent, I would say all three apply. We’re inclusive of all forms of expression but we have an anti-establishment edge. Respect and kindness overrides difference of opinion.
BSA: Your painting The State of America, featuring figures from the January 6th Capitol riot, was a powerful centerpiece. What emotional or psychological space were you in while creating it, and how did the act of painting become a way to process or confront that moment in history?
GS: Because of the amount of detail required to execute the work, I had to focus on the rendering of each figure in the painting. I was physically trying to individualize them, an accurate representation of what was happening. My brain was not focused on anything other than the actual painting of it. It put me in a meditative state creating it.
As I would take breaks from the laborious rendering, I would take a step and look at what I’d completed so far. Because I was trying to be so accurate about representing each individual, the stepping back and seeing them altogether, it honestly brought up a lot of hatred. For what they represented, and what they did on that day. In doing this painting, I was painting a lot of patriotic things and my version of patriotism is a lot different than what the scene depicts.
BSA: The exhibition seems to grapple with money not just as currency, but as a symbol of power, manipulation, and social fracture. Was the show intended as a direct critique of American capitalism, or are you also exploring more personal or ambiguous relationships to money and value?
GS: Each artist in the exhibition has their own take and I can only speak to my own. So yes, my work was a critique of money as a tool for manipulation, and how this has seeped into societal values. But as I said, every artist contributing took Money Talks as a way to take back power with money.
BSA: You’ve been making work since the 2000s, including street pieces that captured daily city life and the people who live here. How has your perspective — and your medium — evolved in response to the widening economic divide and the political climate of recent years?
GS: I think my work has evolved to the times we are living in. I feel more than ever that my work needs to draw a line in the sand and represent my values as a human. I don’t try to take sides but I express what I think is right and I feel there is a sickness in our society at the moment.
Spring 2025: Growth creeps in — leaf by leaf, blade by blade, decree by decree. You barely notice the buildup, but gradually it gathers, until suddenly, you’re surrounded.
On New York walls right now, you’ll spot a mix of collage-style cut-and-paste work, aerosol rendered full fantasy – and a surge in vertical graffiti done while hanging from ropes. This high-risk approach echoes Brazil’s Pixação scene, where writers have been scaling buildings since the ’80s to get their monikers out there running north to south; a technique later amplified by crews like 1UP and Berlin Kidz in Europe. Now, numbers of New York graffiti writers are embracing this daring vertical style — a radical shift that some see clearly, while others barely register. Across styles and mediums, there often appears a recurring presence of scarlet, crimson, rose, magenta, purple, pink, and fuchsia. These grab attention an resonate at deeper undercurrents — power, sacrifice, passion, and perhaps even the stirrings of revolution.
Here are some images from this week’s visual conversation from the street, including works from Werds, Humble, EXR, Great Boxers, Dzel, Meres One, Go, Man in the Box, DK, Luch, 1440, Fridge, El Souls, Natural Eyes, Lisart, Ilato, YOSE, Miki Yamato, HypaArtCombo, Senator Toadius Maximus, HOH22, Hound, Mr. Must Art, Lucia Dutazaka, and Tess.
Hamburg-based street artist Lapiz has brought his sharp wit and political edge to Berlin with a new stencil mural for the Urban Canvas Parkhaus Wedding project, curated by Emily Strange and Liebe zur Kunst. Painted on the concrete wall of a parking garage, the piece shows a sleek modern car towing a rickety wooden cart packed with what appear as indigenous figures, soldiers, riot police, an endangered pink flamingo. It’s a wry take on what Lapiz sees as the illusion of our progress: technology moves forward, but systemic problems like inequality, militarism, and overconsumption keep tagging along.
The artist tells us that the work is partly inspired by an exhibition at the former ethnology museum in Hamburg about the colonial-era extraction of saltpeter in South America. This exploitative practice echoes today’s lithium mining in the name of “green” technology. Lapiz sees this pattern repeating: local environments destroyed, communities displaced, all so consumers in the Global North can feel good and ‘green’ about their electric cars.
Lapiz, who started painting on the streets of Dunedin, New Zealand, has lived and worked in Africa and Argentina. He is known for his colorful, intelligent stencils with a political bite. In an email, he wrote: “I strongly believe that now is the time to raise our voices, now is the time for political action and political art.” With this latest work in Berlin’s Wedding district, he delivers that message clearly—satirical, visual, and timely.
SaveArtSpace 10th Anniversary Public Art Exhibition & Gallery Show – Opens May 30, 2025
SaveArtSpace marks its 10th anniversary with The People’s Art, a sweeping public art initiative and gallery exhibition that brings together some of the most urgent and incisive voices in contemporary art. Curated by an influential panel of curators and cultural leaders grounded in the study of graffiti, street art, and public art — Anne-Laure Lemaitre, RJ Rushmore, Zahra Sherzad, Steven P. Harrington and Jaime Rojo, and Travis Rix — this year’s exhibition takes the streets of New York City as its canvas and its airwaves as amplifier. Selected from a competitive open call that drew nearly 500 artists from across the country, the final group includes over 50 creators whose work explores money, power, and the poetic disruptions of public space.
Opening May 30, 2025, The People’s Art debuts with billboard takeovers throughout New York City, featuring works by Walter Cruz & Lamar Robillard, Tod Seelie, Anastasios Poneros, Jonathan Yubi, Itzel Basualdo, Matthew Morrocco, Kip Henke, Tariq AlObaid, Wen Liu, and Gordon Hull. The works will occupy advertising real estate typically reserved for commercial persuasion, instead offering pointed, personal, and public reflections on inequality, representation, and collective memory. Complementing these installations, Satellite Gallery on Broome Street will host a one-night-only opening reception, showcasing work by more than 40 artists selected for the gallery component of the exhibition.
Tod Seelie. Raft Manhattan. Selected billboard artist. SaveArtSpace: 10th Anniversary – The People’s Art. (photo courtesy of the artist)
The event will also include a live public performance by Autumn Breon, who will pull a mobile billboard truck through the Lower East Side while animated censorship incidents flash across its screens — a confrontation between voice and silencing in the most physical sense. Breon’s body becomes a vessel of resistance, and her performance, animated by Brindha Kumar, anchors the evening’s commitment to calling attention to what we too often try not to see.
Anastasios Poneros. Selected billboard artist. SaveArtSpace: 10th Anniversary – The People’s Art. (photo courtesy of the artist)
This year’s featured essay by cultural critic Carlo McCormick sets the tone for the project, articulating a vision of art that rejects the insularity of luxury culture in favor of a raw, public vernacular. “This is the art of the commons,” McCormick writes, “that shared space between the tyranny of privatization and the compromise of collectivity.” His essay, presented in full below, will frame a series of images from the exhibition — an offering not just to the art world, but to the street, the sidewalk, and the people who walk them.
The People’s Art
The People’s Art is an art of, and for, the people. In a town like New York City, we’ve got plenty of established spaces – galleries, museums, lobbies and the like – to showcase the art that exists as trophies and baubles in the marketplace of luxury products, or to serve the glut of cultural production like sewer drains in a deluge. This is a project, in however many billboards it takes to get a gesture out there that can dance in the public imagination without becoming a brand, that is all about the space between polemics and poetics, how we communicate in this crowded place without screaming, like the way we somehow know how to walk the busiest of sidewalks without running into one another. It’s a folkloric choreography of lover’s leaps and slapstick pratfalls, talking out loud because you think your phone gives you permission to occupy the bandwidth of everyone around you, or because you’re just fucking crazy. It’s a way of looking as well as representing, the terms of engagement where we try not to stare but aren’t afraid to wink.
Signs of the times, the veritable zits of our zeitgeist, we’ve demeaned and damned billboards at least since Lady Bird talked her hubby President Lyndon Johnson into enacting the Highway Beautification Act (HBA) back in 1965 – the idea being that beauty would make America a better place to live. No doubt the time is nigh for some new assault on this ongoing ugliness (the equivalent of late night TV ads on the cultural landscape), maybe we can call it MABA, but until then let us celebrate billboards as the old-fashioned eye-sores they truly are – neglected vestiges from an early outbreak of a visual rash – the residual old scar tissue of corporate co-option and commercial coercion that has since all but subsumed the society of the spectacle.
An art of the people needs to speak a lingua franca and there can be no more common language than the come-on. We don’t shoot the shit in Latin or iambic pentameter; we communicate in the vulgar vernacular of persuasion. Wherever the artist’s billboards of SaveArtSpace appear like deranged interventions in the quotidian, they do not so much bust out of the normalcy as weave their idiosyncrasies into it, joining the din of optical overload like an odd harmony in an ancient Greek chorus, queries and quandaries in the surface of surety, alternatives to the obvious not afraid of eschewing subtlety for the sake of commanding attention. This is the art of the commons, that shared space between the tyranny of privatization and the compromise of collectivity. In a medium dedicated to telling the people what they want, SaveArtSpace allows us to occupy public space as a personal place where we can imagine what we need.
– Carlo McCormick
Itzel Basualdo. Fourth of July in Chicago. Selected billboard artist. SaveArtSpace: 10th Anniversary – The People’s Art. (photo courtesy of the artist)Walter Cruz, in collaboration with Lamar Robillard. For Las Mina’s Sake. Selected billboard artist. SaveArtSpace: 10th Anniversary – The People’s Art. (photo courtesy of the artist)
To see all the artists’ work selected for the billboards and the gallery exhibition, learn about the artists, curators, and SaveArtSpace click HERE.
This week, St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue was suddenly flooded with pealing bells and congregants. In a historic moment for the Catholic Church, Pope Leo XIV, born in Chicago, was chosen, following in the footsteps of his predecessor Francis and his namesake Leo XIII, who was widely admired for his steadfast advocacy for migrants and laborers at the turn of the 20th century. Many observers have noted that the selection of an American pope may reflect a conscious decision by the College of Cardinals to offer a moral counterbalance to the growing tide of authoritarianism and exclusionary politics seen in some of today’s global leadership. With roots in a city shaped by immigration, industry, and social struggle, Leo XIV arrives at a time when such grounding may prove especially relevant. Best wishes to all of us.
So here’s some of this week’s visual conversation from the street, including works from Homesick, Gabriel Specter, Clint Mario, Werds, IMK, EXR, Jorit, Wild West, JEMZ, Ribs, Diva, Ellena Lourens, APE, NOEVE, ENEKKO, Rene, Happy, Disoh, Peuf, and Off Key.
Street art, food, and antifascist activism collided on the walls of Verona – and we’re back for seconds. In Part I, we witnessed how local hero CIBO and a crew of international street artists turned hate-fueled graffiti into gourmet-inspired murals, reclaiming public space with humor and heart. Now, welcome to Part II of “Best Before. Street Art Against a Rancid Future,” where we dive even deeper into this unique festival of creative resistance. Here we have more exclusive Martha Cooper shots of the artists in action. Grab a slice of pizza and join us as we continue the tour of Verona’s transformed walls, proving that even the most bitter messages can be remixed into something surprisingly sweet.
Verona, Italy—known for Romeo and Juliet—is now also home to a very different kind of love story: one between food, public space, and antifascist resistance. At the center is CIBO, a street artist whose name literally means “food,” and who has made a career of turning hate speech into visual comfort food. His murals cover neo-fascist graffiti with pizza slices, cheesecakes, and bundles of asparagus, using humor and everyday symbols to defuse toxic ideology.
CIBO’s approach is clever—and disarmingly effective. Since he began his “recipe of resistance” over a decade ago, he’s been turning Verona’s walls into a living, evolving archive of antifascist art. Where others argue or censor, he paints tortellini. When fascist slogans reappear, he adds another layer—often building his murals like dishes, one ingredient at a time. It’s personal too, he will tell you: after neo-Nazis murdered a friend, CIBO says he doubled down, embracing public art as a peaceful yet persistent form of defiance.
This March, that individual mission became collective action. In an unsanctioned street art festival titled “Best Before. Street Art Against a Rancid Future,” CIBO invited 11 fellow artists—Claudiano.jpeg, Clet, Eron, Mantra, Millo, Ozmo, Pablos, Pao, Pixel Pancho, Plank, and Zed1—to collaborate on murals that replaced hate with imagination. The name? A cheeky reference to food expiration dates—reminding us that our tolerance for racism, nationalism, and repression should’ve expired long ago.
The result: a high-energy, low-profile intervention across San Giovanni Lupatoto and other Verona suburbs. These weren’t “art walks”—they were tactical takeovers. Artists painted four-handed pieces over vandalized walls: CIBO’s flying pizzas alongside Zed1’s surreal characters; asparagus stalks layered with Mantra’s naturalist flourishes. This wasn’t nostalgia—it was public protest, humor, and heart in action.
To ensure the work wouldn’t disappear unnoticed, Martha Cooper—the well-known NYC photographer who helped canonize graffiti with Subway Art—flew in to document it all. Her lens captured not just murals, but the camaraderie, tension, and resilience behind them. Now, over 50 of those photographs are on view at Forte Sofia, Verona, through June 29. Curated by Sara Maira—art strategist and activist—the exhibition is a powerful retelling of a grassroots moment turned collective memory.
We spoke with curator Sara Maira about the festival and the work of CIBO.
BSA: Please tell us about the name of the festival where CIBO collaborated with other artists in Verona?
Sara Maira: The festival and its current exhibition in Verona is called “BEST BEFORE. Street art against a rancid future.” It’s a call to action for the public—an act of artivism initiated by CIBO with the goal of inspiring people to stand up against closed-minded politics, nationalism, and obscurantism before it’s too late.
This is an artivist performance made possible through donations CIBO received over the years from patrons who supported his social commitment against fascism, racism, and hate.
BSA: What attracted CIBO to paint food on public walls? Why choose food as a subject instead of something else?
SM: “CIBO” in Italian is also a nickname for food, so it started as both a joke and a necessity. When he was young, he didn’t have much money to buy paint, so he used leftover colors that other artists didn’t want. Since food comes in almost every color, it became a practical solution. That’s how it began.
As he matured, so did his message. Food evolved into a metaphor—his way of talking about some of the most urgent problems we face today: the rise of neo-fascism and neo-Nazism, nationalism, discrimination, environmental collapse, short-sighted politics, and the widespread social regression we’re seeing worldwide.
He often uses this example: the Caprese salad has the colors of the Italian flag and is considered a traditional Italian dish. But if you examine the ingredients, none are originally Italian. Tomatoes come from Western South America and were first cultivated by the Aztecs. Spanish explorers brought them to Europe in the 1500s. Basil comes from India, and if you add olive oil—as Italians do—it’s originally from Syria. So what we now call “tradition” is actually a product of cultural exchange, migration, and cooperation. If we close our borders and minds, we risk losing that richness.
Every mural CIBO paints contains hidden messages like this. On the surface, it may look like a simple plate of food, but often it’s layered over a swastika or other hate symbol—visually erased but symbolically challenged. What looks colorful and inviting at first glance reveals itself to be part of a much deeper conversation.
BSA: What’s the significance of CIBO painting over hateful or racist messages on public walls?
SM: For him, it’s both an act of resistance and a form of public service. Covering up hate is just one part of his practice, but he sees it as one of the most essential—especially if you consider street art to be public art. This is where public art can make an immediate difference.
CIBO lives in Verona, a city in northern Italy that has long struggled with fascist ideology. That ideology never completely disappeared after WWII, and in recent years it has made a disturbing comeback—not just in Verona, but around the world. At first, CIBO simply responded to what he saw. He had spray cans in hand, he saw hateful messages on walls, and he began covering them up.
Then it became personal. Fifteen years ago, one of his friends was murdered by neo-Nazis. Since then, his work has become a mission—a colorful and peaceful revolution. It’s voluntary activism: an artist giving back to his community, trying to change the world one spray can at a time.
These people are violent; their language is violence. But CIBO’s language is beauty and art—and they’re not prepared for that. Usually, swastikas are covered with opposing political symbols, and the fascists are ready for that. They expect confrontation. But when they’re met with a painted piece of cheese or a slice of pizza, they don’t know how to react. They still come back and vandalize the murals, but CIBO has learned to use their hate as part of his art. He now plans his murals like recipes—every time they come back, he adds an ingredient. Over time, his walls become layered “recipes of resistance,” evolving performances in public space.
In the beginning, people walking by didn’t even notice the hidden messages—there was a sort of visual blindness. But after a few years, people caught on. They realized there was a problem and started sending him photos, asking him to restore or repaint walls. Eventually, some of them started taking action themselves.
BSA: Does CIBO get threatened by the people whose graffiti he covers with food murals?
SM: Yes, he receives threats often. People have sent him death messages. Once, a small bomb was placed on his car. He’s found swastikas painted on his door, and he’s no longer able to move around freely. That’s why he chooses to paint during the day, in public, with people around him. Visibility is his protection. Showing his face is part of his defense strategy.
BSA: Has CIBO gotten into trouble with the police for painting on illegal walls?
SM: Yes, that’s why he works with a lawyer. He’s been reported many times by politicians and law enforcement. But because he’s a recognized artist—and because he’s covering hate symbols—he has never been arrested or convicted.
While going through your CIBO/Verona photos, we noticed that the police showed up a couple of times while he was painting with Mantra, and again while he was painting with Clet. Were the police officers hostile to him? Did the officers show up as a routine or were they responding to a complaint from a citizen?
MC: Not sure if the cops showed up because of a complaint or if they were passing by or what. They questioned the artists but allowed them to continue. They weren’t particularly hostile but not exactly friendly. I tried not to let them see I was taking their picture because I wasn’t sure if I was allowed. Cibo is well-known in Verona but he is mostly painting illegally. As I remember, only one of the walls was a permission wall but I don’t remember which one. Almost all of the walls were ones that Cibo had previously painted which had been gone over. One wall says something like “Thank you Fascists” painted by Cibo but I’ve forgotten what the story was. Sometimes the fascists leave Cibo notes. Attached are photos of him peeling off a note which reads “Tu aisegni noi roviniamo!” which, according to Google Translate means “You draw, we ruin”.
Spring is in full swing, and so are the artists. We’re expecting a few international names to pass through New York this week, including Saype, who’s creating something extraordinary at the UN.
It’s also New York Art Week — a citywide celebration of contemporary art that brings together fairs, gallery openings, and museum shows across all five boroughs. Among the marquee events are Frieze New York at The Shed, Independent at Spring Studios, and NADA at the Starrett-Lehigh Building.
In fact, this week New York hosts Frieze New York, Independent Art Fair, The Other Art Fair Brooklyn, NADA New York, TEFAF New York, SPRING/BREAK Art Show, Future Fair, 1-54 Contemporary African Art Fair, The American Art Fair, and Clio Art Fair.
With so much happening against the backdrop of a turbulent political and economic climate, we’ll be keeping our eyes open for artists and artworks that speak with clarity, urgency, and heart.
So here’s some of this week’s visual conversation from the street, including works from City Kitty, Degrupo, Qzar, Ollin, Stu, Smile, Erotica, Son, H Kubed, VEW X, The Splasher, Never Satisfied, Salem, 1992 Crew, Brady Scott, Chris Bohlin, Frozen Feathers, and Monk.
“People have the Power” from musician and poet Patti Smith.
“Where there were deserts I saw fountains like cream the waters rise and we strolled there together with none to laugh or criticize and the leopard and the lamb lay together truly bound I was hoping in my hoping to recall what I had found I was dreaming in my dreaming God knows a purer view as I surrender to my sleeping I commit my dream to you
The people have the power The people have the power The people have the power The people have the power”
This one caught our eye for the merging of classic graffiti nerve, blunt style execution, sentimental velvety roses, inspirational verses, …Read More »
BROOKLYN STREET ART LOVES YOU MORE EVERY DAY
