Oakland Community Art Coalition Scores Major Victory Against “Comprehensive Anti-Graffiti Ordinance”

Reprinted from the December 19, 2012 Oakland based Community Revitalization Project.

What’s in a name? For the Oakland Community Art Coalition, everything.  After issuing recommendations to Councilpersons Nancy Nadel and Libby Schaaf and speaking before the Public Works Committee on two occasions, advocating in favor of modifications to a proposed “Comprehensive Anti-Graffiti Ordinance,” the committee recommended adoption of several of the Coalition’s suggestions following a December 12 hearing. The recommendations included removing the word “graffiti” from the ordinance – a major point of contention for the Coalition, who argued that the word refers to a legitimate artistic aesthetic, and isn’t automatically synonymous with vandalism or defacement of property. Other committee recommendations included removing the City Administrator as sole determinator of Restorative Justice remedies, and, most importantly, a directive to city staff to work with community groups on the implementation plan.

On December 18, the full Council agreed to amend the Ordinance according to the Committee’s recommendations, with final modifications coming January 22. The public hearing was a bit of a mixed bag: there was plenty of doubletalk from Councilpeople and city staff, some of whom seemed to attempt to have it both ways: take a seemingly tough stance on crime, while simultaneously professing appreciation for aerosol art and expressing enthusiasm for community input and Restorative Justice measures.

Yet the Council couldn’t pretend that issues around implementation and enforcement didn’t exist.

Desley Brooks noted that tagging wasn’t named in the ordinance, prompting Nadel, who co-authored the ordinance, to admit, “we didn’t discuss tagging.”

Brooks added, “there is some value” to “graffiti”, to which Deputy City Attorney Richard Illgen said, “yes, I agree.”

 

Rebecca Kaplan noted that suggestions from community groups were incorporated into the ordinance, but asked, “will it only end up being property owners who get fined?”

Illgen sidestepped the question—a valid one, since as much as 50% of tag-blighting is on city or state-owned property—by noting provisions were added “to allow relief for property owners who have been hit multiple times.” What he didn’t say, however, is that that relief is contingent on the identification and apprehension of taggers and vandals – an offense which the Oakland Police Department has publicly stated it won’t investigate.Kaplan then noted the implementation plan “is beyond what’s in the text” of the ordinance—another way of saying that currently, there is no implementation plan. “Who’s responsible?” for enforcement, she wondered—a question for which city staff had no answer.

Outgoing Council member Ignacio de la Fuente expressed concern that “we are doing something here that will really penalize the property owner. How are we going to implement? There’s really no process for enforcement.” Schaaf called the ordinance the “first piece of a much larger effort,” noting there are “consequences IF graffiti writers are caught” (emphasis added), then adding, “we can do some positive programs.”

Following a motion by Nadel to add the word “tagging” to the definitions of offenses, and the adoption of the previously-proposed modifications—including the removal of the word “graffiti” from their “Comprehensive Anti-Graffiti Ordinance”—the Council voted to pass the ordinance.

However, the Council’s comments confirm what anyone who has thoroughly looked at the ordinance has already realized: that the measure is far from comprehensive, lacks a cohesive plan for implementation, and as it currently stands, will be a mechanism for fining property owners who are the hardest hit by tag-blighting vandals, while doing nothing to prevent defacement from occurring in the first place.

Those issues are a big reason why the Oakland Community Art Coalition—a group which includes members of the Community Rejuvenation Project, East Side Arts Alliance, Rock Paper Scissors Collective, the Estria Foundation, and I.C.U. –formed. While we remain skeptical about how enforcement will actually be implemented, we are encouraged by the stated intention of city staff and Council to work with community groups to create and enact the positive programs Schaaf referred to.

The OCAC will continue to push for the creation of a Mural Diversion Program, as part of the Restorative Justice measures referenced in the ordinance. We hope the city will see fit to fully adopt the recommendations we have outlined, which is the first step in rethinking abatement strategy to include beautification efforts which not only deter tagging and vandalism, but enhance the quality of life in blighted areas, instill a sense of community ownership, and promote youth development and artistic expression in a way that upholds creation, not destruction.

Murals, Democracy and Arizona

Arizona is an interesting place, and as most of the world now knows, the struggle for cultural democracy is in full swing. In almost every town and city we find an attempt to define our collective cultural identity as the Arizona centennial fast approaches.

One example of this struggle is a mural painted in west Phoenix entitled “Mural of Unity” The 400 foot mural has been painted, tagged and repainted several times.
Some call the work graffiti – others see it as a visual representation of the human rights struggle revolving around SB 1070. The mural originally featured McCain and Obama, as well as local celebrities. Now artists want to change the mural to depict the immigration controversy. The mural controversy tells a complex story about life in Arizona at this moment.

I first learned of this controversy from a fellow attendee of the South West Arts Conference (SWAC) hosted by the Arizona Commission on the Arts (ACA). The conference took place at the Chandler Center for the Arts against the backdrop of draconian cuts to the ACA and the tragic murder of a much loved Chandler Police Officer Carlos Ledesma . Also killed were two suspects, apparently active in the local music scene. On the first day of the conference massive state wide anti SB 1070 protests erupted statewide, as thousands of human and civil rights activists took to the streets, even dramatically blocking I-19 .

The gathering of mostly arts administrators never formally touched on these issues, foregoing open space discussions. I understand to some degree. Those of us working in the public eye seek to be inclusive of all, to transcend differences, to stitch together a tapestry that represents the full diversity of the places we live, work and play. Still I felt a disconnection between the events of the day and building a sustainable future for the arts in Arizona.

Meanwhile murals of President Obama are being defaced nationwide. Atlanta, GA and Houston, TX are two examples. In Brooklyn, NY a mural of President Obama was defaced due to a different form of politics between the artists. This brings up the question of civic responsibility among artists, and the struggle between free expression and public space.

This is the ideal time to bring people together to dialogue about issues and using the arts to transcend differences. One issue that seems to come up is a sense of civic responsibility – we all belong to a community of people who cherish our freedoms. While some of the artists who created the Mural of Unity want to express their outrage with overt racism, other community members would prefer that the mural undergo a design and review process.

A few say just paint / buff it out. Questions of content, who will pay for the mural restoration and ongoing maintenance, are not so clear. The issue at hand seems to be whose voices and ideas will be amplified on the wall. Once again we can see how murals are a reflection of our democratic process, or perhaps lack there of. As a friend of mine once said – "any time you add a face to a mural you are bound to have some controversy". The dialogue and process surrounding the Maryvale mural reflects the state of democracy here in Arizona, and it will be interesting to see how residents resolve the issue.

One thing I hope artists will learn from this and the now infamous Prescott mural is that these issues should be resolved in the community design process, not after the mural is finished. While this can be an extended and frustrating process, ultimately it is the artists’ responsibility to lead these conversations and create a work of art that reflects the diversity of views that emerge. This is a double-edged sword, and one that can easily result in censorship or boiling down of content. At some point the artist may decide that it’s time to make a statement of principle - one that they will not step down from. I respect that and also accept that the public, or those that commissioned the mural, may not agree. Like all works of public art the artists should be ready for the controversy that may ensue, and embrace it with love and compassion. Mural making can be many things, decoration, wall paper, or social change incarnate. Whatever the motivation muralists reflect the cultures from which they emerge and are brave enough to do so in the public eye.

PS:
During my research into this story I discovered a wonderful group called Las Artes de Maricopa, a workforce development through the arts program. The art being produced is a beautiful mix of mosaics with hand painted imagery.

Catalysis

By: Peter Richman

“Taking understanding into action is dependent upon seeing that we are profoundly interconnected with the world. The notion of ‘I’ is emancipated. It becomes ‘we,’ integrated into a networked society in which we see ourselves in relation to ‘the other,’ a part of the world rather than a consumer of it.” – Anne Douglas and Chris Fremantle (1)

“Wow, I haven’t used my brain in such a long time,” Danielle, who works at a large insurance company, realized aloud. Twirling her pencil, she announced in a part-joking, part-earnest, part-urgently-serious voice, “Thanks you guys for making me use my brain again!” After a collective round of nervous laughter, Rashida looked up from writing in her notebook and said, “I wasn’t gonna come tonight – I’ve got a million things to do at home, but I told myself I had to come and be here for myself. This is important and my work can wait.”

The Project
Collective Imprints is a work of conceptual art, a sociological experiment, a social gathering, a healing process. It’s a public intervention and an intervention by the public, both a highlighter and a mitigator of difference. What I mean to say by this is that the complexity of the project resists a simple definition, or, more pointedly, that I myself am still struggling to figure out what, exactly, Collective Imprints is.

The brainchild of community artist Michael Schwartz in conjunction with West Philadelphia arts space The Rotunda (2) , Collective Imprints is a ten-week, community-based, participatory visual arts collaboration. The ultimate goal – but not the ultimate purpose – of the project is to create two 4’ x 40’ murals on masonite panels to be installed in front of the venue’s two overhanging balconies.


According to the invitation to participate, offered as an open call to all of Philadelphia, the project aims “to bring together diverse groups and individuals who make The Rotunda the vital venue that it is. In doing so, we will discuss The Rotunda’s mission statement,” which reads:

“Fueled by the belief that art is a catalyst for social change and that the arts can lead to the formation of meaningful partnerships between the University of Pennsylvania and its surrounding community, The Rotunda is a community gathering place for the promotion of arts and culture.”

What distinguishes Collective Imprints from most murals – a distinction especially relevant in Philadelphia, the mural capital of the world – is that it is not a paint-by-numbers project. Rather, all ideas are generated and converted into visual artwork by the participants. “We want people to broadcast here,” said Executive Director of The Rotunda Gina Renzi. “We want to know what they think of this city, what it needs, what their street sounds like on a Saturday night, and what The Rotunda’s commitment to community-based programming means to them.”

A Critical Approach
Community artists are often considered artist-activists, artists who use their craft as a tool to promote a certain kind of social change. This approach regards their art as purposive – hinging on and limited by its political concerns – and thus unavoidably suppressed, albeit in the name of reform. Rather than viewing arts-activism as merely diluted art, however, I argue that the artist-activist should instead be seen as a synthesizer – an artist and an activist – for although the two roles are inextricably linked, they are nevertheless two distinct, discrete roles.

To properly mark this distinction, community art demands critical assessment from two different angles: (1) that which focuses on the participants, the art they create, how they create it, and the effects the project has on the communities involved, and (2) that which focuses on the artist facilitator as navigator and captain, coordinating individuals (of their own free, and generally eager, will) into a grand artwork of an eerily divine scope and stature. The first approach is more apparent, more discussed, and, unfortunately, more often a reason for community art’s silent dismissal from the higher ranks of the art world. What many fail to see, however (the view through the second lens) is the artist facilitator as an artist crafting his medium – human beings. Community artists are sociologists, certainly, but they also extend beyond the reaches of sociology, for their work is an actively engaged, real-time, non-analytical, non-repeatable practice. Community arts, then, can be seen as a humanist extension of process art, for in their work, the facilitator’s people and management skills are his or her artistic skills, the very happening of the project the piece itself.

Collective Imprints: An Experiment in Democracy
Bill came to each session with a different instrument – one week a banjo, another week a zither, yet another a balalaika customized with parts from a sitar. He told us how he built instruments, how he engineered instruments, how he collected instruments. And while he was one of the few participants to come to almost every session, he never once touched the mural. Instead, he played, and he played wonderfully. While we worked on the panels, he transformed Collective Imprints into a concert.

Far from resenting or even dismissing the music, Schwartz – and the whole group – enjoyed and encouraged Bill’s playing. His music became ingrained into Collective Imprints, his contributions no more or less than anyone else’s, and it is this openness, this egalitarian stance towards people and their ideas that truly defines the project. Collective Imprints is space – physical space, social space. It is a weekly time and location and community that anybody can take advantage of any way they like. Most people do, in fact, decide to work on the mural, but if they choose otherwise, they are no less of a participant.

One week, a school teacher brought a group of students from low-income, high-problem homes to Collective Imprints, and one of the boys spent the two hours sitting by himself in the corner. He wouldn’t introduce himself during the icebreakers, he didn’t participate in the discussions, he didn’t even sit with the group.

And it was completely okay.

Nobody coerced or pressured him to participate; he wanted to sit in the corner, and so he did. “Who knows what he’s gone through today just to get here,” Schwartz remarked after the session. “This is a safe space, and that’s how he chooses to express himself.”

Another week, a different teacher brought a group of high school girls from North Philadelphia. Most of them spent the time chatting, but one girl sat to the side and drew a detailed boom box with a winding stream of musical notes going into the left speaker and out the right. Schwartz encouraged her to transfer the image onto one of the panels, and after feebly protesting, she took a seat in front of the boards and began to draw. Another woman was drawing a winding bike path on the same board, and soon their sketches began to overlap and intersect. They decided to work as a team – while some of the other high school girls stopped chatting and started listening to their iPods – and after an hour of collaboration, the two had fused their ideas into one inspired image. The boombox became a building with a group of dancers bursting through its cassette-deck doors, and the bike path – now with both bicycles and musical notes – winded through the building’s speakers. In the open space of Collective Imprints, these two strangers – a black teen and a white adult – were free to work together, and the inventiveness of their joint effort testifies to the potential of such freedom.


Such space, of course, does not just happen, does not exist solely because a group of people are in a room. The space is organic yes, but it is certainly not spontaneous. It requires maintenance and preservation, constant attention but not too much attention, a direction firm enough to ensure its sustainability but also open enough to ensure its sustainability. In short, it needs a gardener, and this is Schwartz’s role as artist facilitator. He cultivates dialogue and fosters creativity, all the while ensuring that his plant – the project, the mural, the participants – continue to grow. Schwartz nurtures people, but to best appreciate the theoretical implications of his work, I find it useful to begin by looking at another community artist.

Tim Rollins Plus K.O.S.
Two artistic practices take place in the Art of Knowledge Workshop: that of Tim Rollins, and that of Tim Rollins + K.O.S. The latter, a collaboration between the artist Rollins and the “learning-disabled” Kids of Survival, is more evident, more approachable, and more acknowledged. The group reads literature from the Western canon, from The Wasteland to The Autobiography of Malcolm X, discusses their reactions, and transfers “these fragments of literary criticism […] onto the large, flat grid, or field, of printed pages” (3) (Tim Rollins + K.O.S. cover their panels/boards with the pages of the book they are exploring).

This side of the workshop – the art of Tim Rollins + K.O.S. – can be seen as the activist side, the political side, and we can easily compare it to Collective Imprints. Both collectives discuss their ideas, distill these thoughts into images, and combine the different pieces into a cohesive whole. One aspect where the two differ, however, is that Rollins brings art to the socially disadvantaged; he provides a legitimate voice to those whose voices are all too often considered illegitimate. In this respect, Tim Rollins + K.O.S. has a greater immediacy, urgency, and sentimentality. Schwarz, on the other hand, gives a voice to those who have been delegitimized for entirely different reasons. The participants in Collective Imprints are not marginalized because of who they are, or how they are (after all, the group is an almost-close-to-representative cross-section of the sixth most populous city in the United States), but rather because of where and when they are.

Tearing Down the Art-Industrial Complex
During one of the earlier sessions, I admitted to Schwartz that I dislike drawing. I told him that whenever I try to draw, or map, or chart my ideas into something visual, I feel like I run into a brick wall. I’m an okay thinker, I said, but when it comes to the visual creative manifestation of my ideas – nothing.

I’m not sure what I was expecting him to do, how I anticipated he’d advise me. I assumed it would be an art lesson, a basic drawing tutorial, maybe even a concession that some people just aren’t visual artists. But instead of teaching and instruction, he offered me a diagnosis and a prescription.

We performed a few technical exercises designed to separate my hand (and the act of drawing) from my mind (and the act of thinking). And after just a few minutes, Schwartz told me the problem – I was too critical, too analytical, too concerned – not even concerned, but obsessed – with what the final image would look like, that before I even picked up my pencil, I had already stifled my imagination.

And he was right. (4)

Schwartz explained that this blockage is the result of what he calls the art-industrial complex, so named because the primary focus is on the finished product, the final piece. Creativity is not an innate talent, but rather a skill to develop, and the art-industrial complex suffocates that development. Instead, Schwartz argues – and this is a crucial component of Collective Imprints – the emphasis should be on the very process of creativity itself. To move towards a more egalitarian society, we need to unlock people’s imaginations, free their minds to envision that such a society could even exist.

The first step to accomplishing this is to unshackle individuals from the confines of that complex, to generate a democratic space free of social, political and economic barriers. And this act of generation brings me to the second artistic practice that happens in the Art of Knowledge Workshop.

Tim Rollins Minus K.O.S.
Tim Rollins + K.O.S. should be considered a work by Tim Rollins. For, as obvious as this claim may be, such a collaboration does not just materialize. From the bureaucratic side of organizing the collective to the pragmatic side of organizing the kids, the very existence of Tim Rollins + K.O.S. is, I believe, a work of art.

What makes the analysis tricky, however, is this: I imagine that Rollins faces any number of issues on any given day when working with his students. I am sure that he has to coordinate, that he has to respond, that he has to maneuver, and while all of these actions are his artistic practice, none of them can be appreciated from an outsider’s perspective. I know that Rollins has to be a captain, but because I am not a part of his team, I can only speculate as to the nature of his leadership (i.e. his art).

Collective Imprints: An Experiment in the Arts
That insider’s perspective, then, is the view through the second lens, the approach that regards the method by which Schwarz guides the group as a processual artistic practice. I can appreciate it because, and only because, I am a part of it, for the work defies any form of documentation. The mural itself is, in many ways, simply a residue of the process – the final product, as it were, deserving secondary attention at best. Photographs miss the interactivity, description misses the vitality, even a video of the group dynamic falls short, for anybody watching would only be seeing somebody else participate in the work.

This evasion of, even indifference to, formal recording comes as no surprise because Schwartz’ work is born of a different artistic framework than that which values documentation. Collective Imprints is not a piece to be seen, or to be understood; it is a piece to experience, and it is this human element – the inconsistency, the unpredictability, not knowing if enough people will show up one week to even have a session – that gives it its life.

An Undocumented Artist?
This inability to document the project ultimately leads to perhaps the most pressing issue – what does Schwartz, as a fine artist, sacrifice to do a project like Collective Imprints? Or, in his own words, “can [this] process produce aesthetically pleasing results?”

These are the primary issues facing community arts today, and they address the necessity of striking a balance between the creative process and the finished product. Community-created murals are often criticized as looking “amateurish,” but is this really such a criticism? A final-product approach to art leaves little room for anything that looks crude, unsophisticated, or disproportionate. But when the finished piece is seen as the result of a certain kind of process, the irregularity in a mural comes to mirror an irregularity in society. A defect here, a peculiar combination there – these deviations from the accepted vocabulary come to signify more than simple visual images. In so doing, community arts can then force us to redefine our aesthetics, to align them not with an institution but with ourselves. As Danielle noted during Collective Imprints, if we’ll allow it, community arts can force us to use our brains.

Notes:
1. Leading Through Practice. March, 2007. Accessed from http://www.a-n.co.uk/
2. The Rotunda presents over 250 events annually, ranging from rock, electronic, jazz, and hip hop, to music from around the world, ambient, activist, spoken word, theater, panels, film, exhibits, dance, education, and various experimental forms of art and performance. National acts often perform side by side with local artists, illustrating Philadelphia's eclectic and robust music scene. As an alcohol-free, smoke-free venue, The Rotunda provides a critical social alternative for all ages, and opens its doors to the public [usually for free] for cultural events as well as a meeting, rehearsal, classroom, and workshop space for various West Philadelphia and citywide organizations, after-school, and youth programs. http://www.therotunda.org/foundation.html.
3. http://shs.westport.k12.ct.us/jwb/Collab/KOS/Rollins.htm
4. A tangential, anecdotal, but still very-much-related aside: My first (and only) memory of trying to draw is from when I was six or seven years old. I remember it vividly – I wanted to draw a sunset I had seen on the beach in Florida. The image was crystal clear in my head (and it still is), but I struggled to put that vision onto paper. It’s not my happiest memory, to be honest – it ends with me tearing paper and throwing markers, but I’m sure that the clarity with which I still recall it indicates the magnitude of its impact on my psychology. When Michael diagnosed my hyper-criticality, it was the first thing that came to mind.