Spray Balm

I am beginning to see the charm in what initially struck me as awful.  The shock of seeing graffiti on EVERYTHING was huge at first.  The night we landed Soph and I took a walk around Palermo. I was concerned that we had been lured into a desperately dangerous part of town because of the general appearance of the streets – littered, dumpsters overflowing with trash every 50m or so, cracked and uneven sidewalks desperately in need of repair, archipelagos of dog shit and graffiti.  All surfaces from .5m to 2m above grade have been tagged.  Not only is there spray paint, there are stencils and posters which are all super-tagged.  In Canada those are the hallmarks of a broken neighbourhood.  That was my immediate response. But if I can set aside my prejudice about graffiti and try to regard it as part of the cultural norm and not an indicator of societal cancer then I begin to appreciate the random artfulness of it.  Prejudices die hard but I am beginning to be reconciled to it.

What came first, the graffiti, the broken sidewalks, the lack of consistency in street wayfinding and pedestrian cues? I suppose it’s all of a piece.  What does it indicate? That’s where I would get in over my head.  I’d be tempted to say that Argentineans have suffered such a devastating series of blows to their societal structure over the past century through governmental strife that they have lost a pride of place or a strong sense of communal ideals.  But I don’t know enough about the people, whether it was ever a well-functioning, clean, orderly, safe society.  One thing is certain – Buenos Aires, at one time – or more than one time, had an abundance of remarkably beautiful buildings and homes.  The style of many structures is very elegant and appealing – a modern (early 20th century) fusion of Romanesque details, beautifully crafted doors and portcullises, lovely proportions that suggest stability, security and elegance. It’s mostly a muddle now.  Street-fighters teeth.  The lovely canines which are those classically beautiful examples of modern architecture still exist at most street corners but the incisors and bicuspids that form the rest of the smile have been knocked out and replaced with cheap monstrosities, gorgeous monoliths (there is still a strong culture of excellent design and design thinking alive in Argentina) or just plain, recklessly unconsidered infill. Regardless of their provenance or date-of-birth they are all smeared with graffiti – or nearly all – some residents must fight a relentless and enduring war by continuously restoring to original what the spray bombs have sought to mutate to the standard.

It appears that the middle class is thriving here.  In Palermo, a leafy goulash of old and new, there are pockets of robust dining and shopping.  The urban patterns are different here – commerce and residence are all of a piece as is true in most large European cities – apartments in two and three storey buildings above bodegas, tiendas, bars, restaurants.  Interestingly, bars often share space with nifty little clothes boutiques.  Would you like a beer with that bra? There is a lot of urban artwork – this Latin country shares a quirky sensibility of rich, passionate imagery and vulgar (in the nicest sense of the word (?)) cartoony muralization (had to make it up I think) with Mexico, Spain (those come to mind). (Who the hell is Mafalda?) The artwork is often witty, meaningful and ironic.  There is a strong graphic sense in much of the work.  While typography is not noticeably impeccable here the accidental stuff (packing crates) and the remains from historic buildings (shattered neon) are very rich (to me).  It’s Easter weekend and the streets of Palermo are overflowing with young couples, prams, hyper-cool dudes and dudettes.  Clothing is relatively conservative – lots of jeans.  Platform shoes are very popular – at least in the windows of zapateriae – not so much in practice.  The spoor of grilled beef is pervasive and whiffs pizza and empanadas provide the strings to meat’s rich bass.  Helado forms the anchor on every corner it seems and mornings are apparently incomplete without an espresso and a medialune dulce. Cafe Martin’s coffee (a chain of coffee shops here) equals anything I tasted in Italy – and it’s hard to get a bad cup of coffee.

The anticipated music is not very present on the streets – we did see a bit of a Tango demo in San Telmo – a slightly seamier, older part of town closer to the center – last week.  Ambient music is often classic American 60’s, Gangsta rap (our taxi driver?), Ameri-pop and romantic Latin ballads. Behind doors though we have listened to some fantastic jazz and Argentinian work.  I hope to get out a lot more in the couple of weeks remaining to us but I find I am very tired most evenings.  More siestas might be in order.

That’s enough I think.  I tend to ramble.  Later, friends.  I miss my friends and family and look forward to meals, laughter and music with you all.

Apologies for these crappy pictures.  I don't have my Adobe Lightroom on this laptop and can only do minor edits in Picasa.