So being the new girl in a new town, I am actually in the process of downloading the first episode of The Mary Tyler Moore show. As I keep hearing “You’re going to make it after all…” (the only part of the theme song I can remember) in my head, I figured it is an excellent theme to this current move.

I may not have a couch yet, but as of this morning I have cutlery. Using a martini glass as a bowl and a measuring spoon as a “regular spoon” (both left by the previous tenant) the other night was fun, but it has since gotten old. Today I was buying cleaners and light bulbs and plates, all things previously bought and shared with old housemate. Thinking about what I could live without for awhile (the “wants”) vs what I really must have in order to keep things clean (the “needs.”), was humbling beyond belief.

Along with not having a couch, I also currently don’t have internet access. So I’m writing this at a lovely cafe in Alexandria (Buzz) listening to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, my favorite singing combo ever. Not having internet issues means not being able to look up job listings, so as I need a job to have a couch, I’m looking online at various open positions.

While sometimes these searches send you down the rabbit hole, this one has unearthed an extra bonus surprise, the work of Panmela Castro while learning more about the Global Women Entrepreneurs in Handcrafts Development Program offered by Vital Voices.

The website has a lovely write-up about the work Panmela is doing, using graffiti as a way to bring about social change! Although I’m highly biased, it always so inspiring to learn about people using graffiti and street art as tools for positive activism. You can also see the results of the Graffiteras Pela Lei Maria de Penha here.

Back in September, I wrote about the Dream Rocket, an amazing project headed up by the equally amazing Jennifer Marsh! The idea behind the Dream Rocket is to cover a (real!) rocket with quilted panels made from around the world… facilitating our global wish for peace. The panels themselves, were a bit spendy for me right now, but now you can buy your own mini panel for the Dream Rocket for $25! That’s probably less than you spend on fancy coffee each month, or maybe even week!

How many times do you get to participate in making a 30,467 square foot cozy? How many times to you get to participate in quilting a rocket cover? Now, at long last, you can do both at the same time, therein checking 2 things off your to-do list simultaneously! Such devilishly smart multi-tasking would leave you the freedom to go on to your next task like build your own totem pole or something.

The Dream Rocket will be accepting payment for panels (full-size or mini) until March 15, 2010.

The photo up top is from 5″x7″ postcards they sell over here at the Dream Rocket store. They are lovely. [Hint: I'm sure it's been a long time since you've written your gran, and they are pretty enough to go up on her fridge. Win win!]

And I’m catching up on the news and thinking about 1993, the year I graduated from high school. And where I hoped to be at this point in my life, where I hoped the world to be at this point in my life, and how the latter part of those hopes has gone pear-shaped. And I take an extra minute to enjoy the feeling of safety and peace and everydayness of my morning. I sip my red-eye (with light brew, natch) and catch up on what’s happening around the world and remember that these are days- we can take our days now to work towards a better future.

And I’m infinitely thankful for all the people who are fighting battles far away from home, wishing to have a nice quiet morning in the coffeeshop or with their families. This quiet moment of tranquility is for them. May they soon have days filled with laughter until they break.

These are the days you’ll remember.
When May is rushing over you with desire to be part of the miracles you see in every hour.
You’ll know it’s true that you are blessed and lucky.
It’s true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.

These are days.

These are the days you might fill with laughter until you break.
These days you might feel a shaft of light make its way across your face.
And when you do you’ll know how it was meant to be.
See the signs and know their meaning.
It’s true, you’ll know how it was meant to be.
Hear the signs and know they’re speaking to you, to you.

Lyrics from here.

Rome, Italy

Oxford, UK, 1993

St. Petersburg, Russia

Want more?

*Global Graphica
*Wooster Collective
*GraffitiStudies.info
*Art Crimes: War Murals
*Graffiti: The Art of Politics
*Torontoist: Taking it to the Streets
*Anti-Bush Graffiti: 25 countries, 6 continents
*Streetsy: 40+ Streetartist You Should Know Besides Banksy
*Thebizzare.com, Political Graffiti & Street Art From Around the World

And that’s just the start.

I just finished the piece above, which is graffiti of the Palestinian hijacker Leila Khaled spraypainted on the wall between Bethlehem and Jerusalem. Leila Khaled was a member of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP). It was a choice made originally to highlight the fact that what we may view through our own cultural lens may not be the truth. After finding out the image was of Khaled, it twisted the idiosyncratic ways of graffiti even more than I thought possible. Who is graffiti for? Does it ever mislead given cultural histories? Once finished, graffiti is left for people to individually decide on its meaning, as the artist isn’t aware to explain it.

Ironically, this is part of my ongoing International Anti-War Cross-Stitch series. So what is a Palestinian hijacker spraypainted on a wall with “I Am Not A Terrorist” got to do with anti-war? It’s another example of how graffiti blurs the lines between conversations and cultures. Does the stencil speak for Khaled herself? Obviously not, as she has been very open and proud about her actions with the PFLP. Or is it more about the keffiyeh she’s wearing like a hijab? Graffiti doesn’t lead us to explanation, it lets us define according to our cultural backgrounds.

Graffiti, the act of leaving anonymous (although sometimes individually tagged) art in public places, never truly gives us an answer. It is a soft moment of art on a sterile public wall or building. It is a drunken moment of anger or a release of what can’t be said in public or just done for art’s sake. To some it is disturbing. To others it is beautiful. But no matter what you may think about it, it is always the true thoughts of the people, not the governments or wealthy businessmen, it’s a way for people who don’t normally get their voice heard to speak out in a public forum, for their chance to speak out and fight back. It’s the pulse of the city.

I have a collection of political graffiti images and can’t find the original one I used for the piece above, but was happily able to find an earlier photograph of it. This piece I like not because of the actions of Khaled, but for the lines it blurs. To me, as an American, previously unaware that this photo was of anyone in particular it spoke of whispers and side glances and speculations. We don’t know who stenciled this image on a wall in an area of strife, what their original goal was, if they made the stencil in a hurry or passed them out to friends. Most likely it was done under the veil of darkness, a crying out of viewpoints and frustrations and a will to action- not of violence, but of art.

To me this image is about cultural intracacies and defining lines and juxtaposition. It’s remembrance of the invisible and cultural defining line of Muslim as “other.” The juxtaposition of Khaled’s photo next to “I Am Not A Terrorist” doesn’t make me see Khaled. It makes me see the faces of women who wear the chadoor and the hijab and the kiffeyeh that we don’t really actually see. While literally their faces and/or heads are covered, that’s not what I’m speaking of. We just see the clothing. The mark of “other.” Not the woman inside. The woman who is not a terrorist, despite what her clothing might speak of to you.

And on the nightly news, on stories perfectly edited with English translations on top, this defining line of “other” is marked over and over and over again. Whether it’s a veil or a headscarf or a burkha, we may not really notice, just that it’s a cultural marker. Instead of seeing this piece as an act of glorifying a hijacker, I see a piece of frustration and redefinition, a remembrance that despite what we see on the news and in the media, Muslim does not equal terrorist…despite the fact that Khaled herself was a hijacker. I see the hundreds of thousands of women who are not terrorists. But it’s left with other random thoughts and scribbles done late at night in the dark, no explanation given. We are left to think of it what we will. We are left to find and feel the pulse of the city. We are left to navigate between the media on our screens and the media on our streets.