So when I decided to create an art piece in Manshiyat Naser, the neighborhood of the Cairo garbage collectors in Egypt, I never thought this project would be the most amazing human experience that I would ever live. As an artist, I had this humanist intention of beautifying a poor and neglected neighborhood by bringing art to it and hopefully shining light on this isolated community.
Kada sam odlučio da stvorim umetničko delo u Manšijat Naseru, susedstvu sakupljača kairskog đubreta u Egiptu, nisam ni pomislio da će ovaj projekat biti najneverovatnije ljudsko iskustvo koje ću ikada proživeti. Kao umetnik, imao sam humanističku nameru da ulepšam siromašan i zanemaren kraj unoseći umetnost u njega i nadajući se da ću obasjati ovu izolovanu zajednicu.
The first time I heard about this Christian Coptic community was in 2009 when the Egyptian authorities under the regime of Hosni Mubarak decided to slaughter 300,000 pigs using the pretext of H1N1 virus. Originally, they are pig breeders. Their pigs and other animals are fed with the organic waste that they collect on a daily basis. This event killed their livelihood. The first time I entered Manshiyat Naser, it felt like a maze. I was looking for the St. Simon Monastery on the top of the Muqattam Mountain. So you go right, then straight, then right again, then left to reach all the way to the top. But to reach there, you must dodge between the trucks overpacked with garbage and slalom between the tuk-tuks, the fastest vehicle to move around in the neighborhood. The smell of the garbage unloaded from those trucks was intense, and the noise of the traffic was loud and overbearing. Add to it the din created by the crushers in those warehouses along the way. From outside it looks chaotic, but everything is perfectly organized.
Prvi put sam čuo za ovu hrišćansku koptsku zajednicu 2009. godine, kada je egipatska vlast pod režimom Hosnija Mubaraka odlučila da zakolje 300 000 svinja koristeći kao izgovor virus H1N1. Izvorno, oni su uzgajivači svinja. Njihove svinje i druge životinje se hrane organskim otpadom koji oni svakodnevno sakupljaju. Ovaj događaj je uništio njihova sredstva za preživljavanje. Prvi put kada sam ušao u Manšijat Naser, činio se kao lavirint. Tražio sam manastir Svetog Simona na vrhu planine Mokatam. Idete desno, onda pravo, pa opet desno, zatim levo da biste stigli skroz na vrh. Međutim, da biste tamo stigli, morate da se provučete između kamiona pretrpanih đubretom i spustite se između motornih rikša, vozila kojima se najbrže kreće kroz komšiluk. Miris istovarenog đubreta iz tih kamiona bio je jak, a buka saobraćaja bila je glasna i nepodnošljiva. Dodajte tome i galamu koju su stvarale drobilice u tim skladištima usput. Spolja izgleda haotično, ali sve je savršeno organizovano.
The Zaraeeb, that’s how they call themselves, which means the pig breeders, have been collecting the garbage of Cairo and sorting it in their own neighborhood for decades. They have developed one of the most efficient and highly profitable systems on a global level. Still, the place is perceived as dirty, marginalized and segregated because of their association with the trash. So my initial idea was to create an anamorphic piece, a piece that you can only see from one vantage point. I wanted to challenge myself artistically by painting over several buildings and having it only fully visible from one point on the Muqattam Mountain. The Muqattam Mountain is the pride of the community. This is where they built the St. Simon Monastery, a 10,000-seat cave church that they carved into the mountain itself.
Zaraibi, kako nazivaju sami sebe, što znači uzgajivači svinja, sakupljali su otpad iz Kaira i decenijama ga razvrstavali u svom kraju. Razvili su jedan od najefikasnijih i visoko profitabilnih sistema na globalnom nivou. Ovo mesto još vide kao prljavo, marginalizovano i izdvojeno zbog veze sa đubretom. Moja prvobitna ideja je bila da stvorim anamorfno delo, delo koje možete videti samo sa jedne povoljne tačke. Hteo sam da postavim sebi umetnički izazov tako što ću oslikati nekoliko građevina i tako što će to biti potpuno vidljivo sa jedne tačke na planini Mokatam. Planina Mokatam je ponos zajednice. Ovde su izgradili manastir Svetog Simona, crkvu-pećinu sa 10 000 sedišta koju su uklesali u samu planinu.
So, the first time I stood on top of the mountain and I looked at the neighborhood, I asked myself, how on earth will I convince all those owners to let me paint on their buildings? And then Magd came. Magd is a guide from the Church. He told me the only person I needed to convince was Father Samaan, who is the leader of the community. But to convince Father Samaan, I needed to convince Mario, who is a Polish artist who moved to Cairo 20 years ago and who created all the artwork of the Cave Church. I am really grateful to Mario. He was the key of the project. He managed to get me a meeting with Father Samaan, and surprisingly, he loved the idea. He asked me about where I painted before and how I will make it happen. And he was mainly concerned by what I was going to write.
Tako, prvi put kada sam stajao na vrhu planine i posmatrao kraj, zapitao sam se kako ću, pobogu, ubediti sve te vlasnike da mi dozvole da slikam na njihovim objektima. Zatim je došao Megd. Megd je vodič iz crkve. Rekao mi je da je jedina osoba koju moram da ubedim otac Saman, koji je vođa zajednice. Međutim, da bih ubedio oca Samana, morao sam da ubedim Marija, koji je poljski umetnik koji se doselio u Kairo pre 20 godina i koji je stvorio sva umetnička dela crkve-pećine. Veoma sam zahvalan Mariju. Bio je ključ projekta. Uspeo je da mi sredi sastanak sa ocem Samanom i, iznenađujuće, dopala mu se ideja. Pitao me je gde sam pre slikao i kako ću to ostvariti. Uglavnom ga je brinulo šta ću napisati.
In every work that I create, I write messages with my style of Arabic calligraphy. I make sure those messages are relevant to the place where I am painting but have this universal dimension, so anybody around the world can relate to it.
U svakom delu koje stvorim, pišem poruke svojim stilom arapske kaligrafije. Staram se o tome da su te poruke od značaja za mesto na kome slikam ali imaju univerzalnu dimenziju, tako da se svako širom sveta može dovesti u vezu sa njima.
So for Manshiyat Naser, I decided to write in Arabic the words of St. Athanasius of Alexandria, a Coptic bishop from the third century, who said: (Arabic), which means in English, "Anyone who wants to see the sunlight clearly needs to wipe his eyes first."
Tako sam za Manšijat Naser rešio da napišem na arapskom reči Svetog Atanasija Aleksandrijskog, koptskog episkopa iz trećeg veka, koji je rekao: (arapski), što znači: „Svako ko želi da jasno vidi svetlost sunca, mora najpre da obriše oči.“
It was really important for me that the community felt connected to the words. And for me this quote was perfectly reflecting the spirit of the project.
Bilo mi je veoma važno da se zajednica oseća povezano sa rečima. Za mene, ovaj citat je savršeno odražavao duh projekta.
So Father Samaan blessed the project, and his approval brought all the residents on board. Hundreds of liters of paint, a dozen blue manual lifts, several trips back and forth to Cairo, a strong and solid team from France, North Africa, Middle East and the US, and after a year of planning and logistics, there we are, my team and some members from the local community creating a piece that will spread over 50 buildings, some filling up the space of the calligraphy that I trace with colors. Here some blue, there some yellow, there some orange. Some others carrying some sand bags and putting them on the top of the buildings to hold those manual lifts, and some others assembling and disassembling those same lifts and moving them around the different buildings.
Tako je otac Saman dao blagoslov projektu, a njegovim odobrenjem su pridobijeni svi stanovnici. Stotine litara boje, desetine plavih teretnih platformi, nekoliko putovanja do Kaira i nazad, jak i dobar tim iz Francuske, Severne Afrike, Srednjeg Istoka i SAD-a i nakon godinu dana planiranja i logistike, tu smo, moj tim i nekoliko članova lokalne zajednice, stvaramo delo koje će se proširiti na više od 50 zgrada, od kojih neki popunjavaju prostor za kaligrafiju koje ja ocrtam bojama. Ovde malo plave, tu malo žute, tamo malo narandžaste. Neki nose vreće sa peskom i stavljaju ih na vrhove zgrada da bi držale te teretne platforme, a neki sastavljaju i rastavljaju iste te platforme i premeštaju ih na druge zgrade.
At the beginning of the project, I numbered all those buildings on my sketch, and there was no real interaction with the community. People didn’t get the point of all this. But fast enough, those building numbers became family names.
Na početku projekta, sve te zgrade sam na svojoj skici obeležio brojevima i nije bilo stvarne interakcije sa zajednicom. Ljudi nisu razumeli poentu svega ovoga. Međutim, ubrzo su ti brojevi zgrada postali porodična imena.
The first building was the house of Uncle Ibrahim. Uncle Ibrahim is such an enthusiastic person. He was always singing and making jokes, and his daughters and sons saved me from his bull who wanted to attack me on the fourth floor.
Prva zgrada je bila kuća čika Ibrahima. Čika Ibrahim je tako entuzijastična osoba. Uvek je pevao i šalio se, a njegove ćerke i sin su me spasili od njegovog bika koji je hteo da me napadne na četvrtom spratu.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Actually, the bull saw me from the window and came out on the balcony.
Zapravo, bik me je video sa prozora i izašao na terasu.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Yeah.
Da.
Uncle Ibrahim was always hanging out on the balcony and talking to me while I was painting. I remember him saying that he didn’t go to the mountain for 10 years, and that he never takes a day off. He said that if he stopped working, who will stop the garbage? But surprisingly, at the end of the project, he came all the way to the mountain to look at the piece. He was really proud to see his house painted, and he said that this project was a project of peace and -- sorry --
Čika Ibrahim je stalno provodio vreme na terasi i pričao sa mnom dok sam slikao. Sećam se da je rekao da nije išao na planinu 10 godina i da nikada ne uzima slobodan dan. Pitao se ako prestane da radi, ko će zaustaviti smeće. Međutim, na iznenađenje, na završetku projekta, došao je skroz gore na planinu da bi pogledao delo. Bio je veoma ponosan kada je video svoju kuću oslikanu i rekao je za ovaj projekat da je projekat mira i - izvinite -
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Thank you.
Hvala.
He said that it was a project of peace and unity and that it brought people together.
Rekao je da je to projekat mira i jedinstva i da je zbližio ljude.
So his perception towards the project changed, and my perception towards the community changed also, and towards what they do. All the garbage that everybody is disgusted by is not theirs. They just work out of it. Actually, they don’t live in the garbage. They live from the garbage. So I started doubting myself and wondering what was the real purpose of this whole project? It was not about beautifying a place by bringing art to it. It was about switching perception and opening a dialogue on the connection that we have with communities that we don’t know. So day after day, the calligraphy circle was taking shape, and we were always excited to go back on the mountain to look at the piece. And standing exactly at this point every day made my realize the symbolism behind this anamorphic piece. If you want to see the real image of somebody, maybe you should change your angle.
Tako se promenila njegova percepcija projekta, a takođe se promenila i moja percepcija ove zajednice i onoga što rade. Sve to smeće kojim su svi zgroženi nije njihovo. Oni samo rade sa njime. Zapravo, oni ne žive u đubretu. Žive od đubreta. Tako sam počeo da sumnjam u sebe i da se pitam koja je bila prava svrha celog ovog projekta. To nije bilo ulepšavanje mesta donošenjem umetnosti. Bilo je to menjanje percepcije i otvaranje dijaloga o povezanosti koju imamo sa zajednicama koje ne poznajemo. Tako je, dan za danom, kaligrafski krug poprimao oblik i uvek smo se uzbuđeno vraćali na planinu da pogledamo delo. Stajanje upravo na ovom mestu svakoga dana nateralo me je da shvatim simboliku iza ovog anamorfnog dela. Ako želite da vidite nečiju stvarnu sliku, možda treba da promenite ugao.
There was doubts and difficulties, like fears and stress. It wasn't simple to work in such environments, sometimes having pigs under you while you paint or climbing a stack of garbage to reach a lift. But we all got over the fear of the heights, the swinging lifts, the strength of the smell and also the stress of not finishing on time.
Bilo je sumnji i poteškoća, kao što su strahovi i stres. Nije bilo jednostavno raditi u takvim okruženjima, gde nekad imate svinje ispod sebe dok slikate ili se penjete na gomilu đubreta da biste dohvatili platformu. Ipak, svi smo prebrodili strah od visine, platforme koja se ljulja, jačinu mirisa, kao i stres nezavršavanja na vreme.
But the kindness of all those people made us forget everything. The building number 3 was the house of Uncle Bakheet and Aunty Fareeda. In Egyptian, they have this expression that says, "Ahsen Nas," which means "the best people." They were the best people. We used to take our break in front of their houses, and all the kids of the neighborhood used to join us. I was impressed and amazed by the kids of Manshiyat Naser. For the first few days, they were always refusing anything we were offering them, even a snack or a drink. So I asked Aunty Fareeda, "Why is that?" And she told me they teach their kids to refuse anything from somebody that they don't know because maybe this person needs it more than they do.
Međutim, dobrota svih tih ljudi učinila je da sve zaboravimo. Zgrada broj tri bila je dom čike Bahita i tete Faride. Na egipatskom imaju izraz koji glasi: „Ahsen nes“, što znači „najbolji ljudi“. Oni su bili najbolji ljudi. Imali smo običaj da idemo na pauzu ispred njihovih domova, a sva deca iz komšiluka bi nam se pridružila. Bio sam zadivljen i iznenađen decom Manšijata Nasera. Prvih nekoliko dana, uvek su odbijali šta god da im ponudimo, čak i grickalice ili piće. Upitao sam tetu Faridu: „Zašto je to tako?“ Rekla mi je da uče svoju decu da odbijaju stvari od nekog koga ne znaju jer je to možda toj osobi potrebno više nego njima.
So at this exact point I realized actually the Zaraeeb community was the ideal context to raise the topic of perception. We need to question our level of misconception and judgment we can have as a society upon communities based on their differences. I remember how we got delayed on Uncle Ibrahim's house when his pigs that are bred on the rooftop were eating the sand bags that hold the lifts.
Tako sam upravo u tom trenutku zaista shvatio da je zajednica Zaraiba bila idealan kontekst za pokretanje teme percepcije. Potrebno je da preispitamo naš nivo pogrešnih shvatanja i rasuđivanja koje možemo posedovati kao društvo prema zajednicama na osnovu njihovih različitosti. Sećam se kako smo se usporili pri radu na čika Ibrahimovoj kući kada su njegove svinje koje se uzgajaju na krovu jele vreće sa peskom koje drže platforme.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
The house of Uncle Bakheet and Aunty Fareeda was this kind of meeting point. Everybody used to gather there. I think this is what Uncle Ibrahim meant when he said that was a project of peace and unity, because I really felt that people were coming together. Everyone was greeting us with a smile, offering us a drink or inviting us into their own house for lunch. Sometime, you are at the first level of a building, and somebody opens his window and offers you some tea. And then the same thing happens on the second floor. And you keep going all the way to the top.
Kuća čike Bahita i tete Faride bila je na neki način mesto sastanka. Svi su se tamo okupljali. Mislim da je to čika Ibrahim mislio kada je rekao da je ovo projekat mira i jedinstva, jer sam ja zaista osećao da se ljudi zbližavaju. Svi su nas pozdravljali uz osmeh, nudili nam piće ili nas pozivali u svoju kuću na ručak. U nekom trenutku se nalazite na prvom nivou zgrade, a neko otvori prozor i ponudi vam čaj. Zatim se isto to desi na drugom spratu. A vi nastavljate sve do vrha.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
I think I never drink as much tea as I did in Egypt.
Mislim da nikad nisam popio toliko čaja kao u Egiptu.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
And to be honest with you, we could have finished earlier, but I think it took us three weeks because of all those tea breaks.
Da budem iskren prema vama, mogli smo da završimo ranije, ali mislim da nam je trebalo tri nedelje zbog svih tih pauza za čaj.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
In Egypt, they have another expression, which is "Nawartouna," which means, "You brought light to us." In Manshiyat Naser they were always telling us this. The calligraphy, actually -- I used a white glow-in-the-dark paint for the calligraphy so at the end of the project, we rented some black light projectors and lit up the whole neighborhood, surprising everybody around. We wanted to tell them that they are the ones who brought light to us.
U Egiptu imaju još jedan izraz, a to je „Navartuna“, što znači „Doneo si nam svetlo.“ U Manšijat Naseru su nam stalno to govorili. Kaligrafija, zapravo - koristio sam belu boju koja svetli u mraku za kaligrafiju, tako da smo na kraju projekta iznajmili projektore crnog svetla i osvetlili ceo kraj, čime smo iznenadili sve unaokolo. Želeli smo da im kažemo da su oni ti koji su nama doneli svetlo.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
The Zaraeeb community are strong, honest, hard workers, and they know their value. The people of Cairo call them "the Zabaleen," which means "the people of the garbage," but ironically, the people of Manshiyat Naser call the people of Cairo the Zabaleen. They say, they are the ones who produce the garbage, not them.
Zajednicu Zaraiba čine jaki, iskreni, vredni radnici, a oni poznaju svoju vrednost. Ljudi iz Kaira ih zovu „Zabalini“, što znači „ljudi smeća“, ali ironično, ljudi Manšijat Nasera nazivaju ljude Kaira Zabalinima. Kažu da su oni ti koji proizvode smeće, a ne oni.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
The goal was to leave something to this community, but I feel that they are the ones who left something in our lives. You know, the art project was just a pretext for this amazing human experience. The art piece at some point will disappear, vanish, and actually there is somebody who is building a second floor in front of Uncle Ibrahim's house, so it's covering part of the painting, so I might need to go back and paint over it.
Cilj je bio ostaviti nešto ovoj zajednici, ali smatram da su oni ti koji su ostavili nešto u našim životima. Znate, umetnički projekat je bio samo izgovor za ovo neverovatno ljudsko iskustvo. Umetničko delo će u nekom trenutku nestati, iščeznuti, a zapravo postoji neko ko gradi drugi sprat ispred kuće čike Ibrahima, tako da prekriva deo slike, pa ću možda morati da se vratim i oslikam ga.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
It was about the experience, about the story, about the moment.
U pitanju je bilo iskustvo, priča, trenutak.
From the streets of the neighborhood, the painting appears in fragments, isolated from one another, standing alone. But connected with the sign of calligraphy that today reveals the powerful message that we should all think about before we want to judge somebody.
Sa ulica susedstva, slika se javlja u delićima, međusobno izolovanim, koji stoje sami, ali povezani znakom kaligrafije koji danas otkriva moćnu poruku da svi mi treba da promislimo pre nego što osudimo nekoga.
Anyone who wants to see the sunlight clearly needs to wipe his eyes first.
Svako ko želi da jasno vidi svetlost sunca mora najpre da obriše oči.
Thank you.
Hvala.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)