In 2012, when I painted the minaret of Jara Mosque in my hometown of Gabés, in the south of Tunisia, I never thought that graffiti would bring so much attention to a city.
En 2012, cando pintei o minarete da mesquita de Jara na miña cidade natal de Gabés, ao sur de Tunisia, nunca imaxinei que o graffiti puidese atraer tanta atención a unha cidade.
At the beginning, I was just looking for a wall in my hometown, and it happened that the minaret was built in '94. And for 18 years, those 57 meters of concrete stayed grey. When I met the imam for the first time, and I told him what I wanted to do, he was like, "Thank God you finally came," and he told me that for years he was waiting for somebody to do something on it. The most amazing thing about this imam is that he didn't ask me anything -- neither a sketch, or what I was going to write.
Ao principio, só buscaba un muro na miña cidade, e o minarete construírase no 94. E durante 18 anos, eses 57 metros de formigón permaneceron grises. Cando coñecín o imán por primeira vez, e lle dixen o que quería facer, respondeu: "Grazas a Deus que apareciches por fin", e contoume que levaba anos esperando que chegara alguén que fixese algo con el. O máis sorprendente deste imán foi que non me pediu nada, nin un bosquexo nin o que ía escribir.
In every work that I create, I write messages with my style of calligraffiti -- a mix of calligraphy and graffiti. I use quotes or poetry. For the minaret, I thought that the most relevant message to be put on a mosque should come from the Quran, so I picked this verse: "Oh humankind, we have created you from a male and a female, and made you people and tribe, so you may know each other." It was a universal call for peace, tolerance, and acceptance coming from the side that we don't usually portray in a good way in the media.
En cada traballo que creo, escribo mensaxes con meu estilo de "caligraffiti", unha mestura de caligrafía e graffiti. Uso citas ou poesía. Para o minarete, pensei que a mensaxe máis relevante para unha mesquita debería proceder do Corán, así que escollín esta estrofa: "Oh, humanos, creámosvos dun home e dunha muller, e fixémosvos pobos e tribos para que vos puiderades coñecer." Era unha chamada universal á paz, á tolerancia e á aceptación, partindo de que non acostumamos ter unha boa imaxe nos medios.
I was amazed to see how the local community reacted to the painting, and how it made them proud to see the minaret getting so much attention from international press all around the world. For the imam, it was not just the painting; it was really deeper than that. He hoped that this minaret would become a monument for the city, and attract people to this forgotten place of Tunisia. The universality of the message, the political context of Tunisia at this time, and the fact that I was writing Quran in a graffiti way were not insignificant. It reunited the community.
Sorprendeume ver como reaccionou a comunidade local perante a pintura, e o orgullo que sentían ao ver que o minarete recibía tanta atención da prensa internacional do mundo enteiro. Para o imán, non era só unha pintura; era más profundo que iso. Esperaba que este minarete fose un monumento para a cidade, e atraese xente a este lugar esquecido de Tunisia. A universalidade da mensaxe, o contexto político de Tunisia nese momento, o feito de que estaba escribindo o Corán en estilo de graffiti non carecían de significado. Reuniu a comunidade.
Bringing people, future generations, together through Arabic calligraphy is what I do. Writing messages is the essence of my artwork. What is funny, actually, is that even Arabic-speaking people really need to focus a lot to decipher what I'm writing. You don't need to know the meaning to feel the piece. I think that Arabic script touches your soul before it reaches your eyes. There is a beauty in it that you don't need to translate. Arabic script speaks to anyone, I believe; to you, to you, to you, to anybody, and then when you get the meaning, you feel connected to it. I always make sure to write messages that are relevant to the place where I'm painting, but messages that have a universal dimension, so anybody around the world can connect to it.
Reunir xente, futuras xeracións, a través da caligrafía árabe é o que fago. Escribir mensaxes é a esencia do meu traballo. O que é gracioso é que incluso a xente que fala árabe precisa concentrarse moito para descifrar o que estou a escribir. Non fai falla coñecer o significado para sentir a peza. Creo que a grafía árabe toca a alma antes de chegar aos ollos. Hai beleza nela que non precisa tradución. A grafía árabe fálalles a todos, creo; a ti, a ti, a ti, a todo o mundo, e cando entendes o significado, sénteste conectado con ela. Sempre me aseguro de escribir mensaxes que sexan relevantes para o lugar onde pinto, pero que sexan mensaxes cunha dimensión universal, para que o mundo enteiro poida conectar con elas.
I was born and raised in France, in Paris, and I started learning how to write and read Arabic when I was 18. Today I only write messages in Arabic. One of the reasons this is so important to me, is because of all the reaction that I've experienced all around the world.
Nacín e crieime en Francia, en París, e comecei a aprender a ler e escribir árabe aos 18 anos. Hoxe só escribo mensaxes en árabe. Unha das razóns polas que isto é tan importante para min é por todas as reaccións que recibín polo mundo.
In Rio de Janeiro, I translated this Portuguese poem from Gabriela Tôrres Barbosa, who was giving an homage to the poor people of the favela, and then I painted it on the rooftop. The local community were really intrigued by what I was doing, but as soon as I gave them the meaning of the calligraphy, they thanked me, as they felt connected to the piece.
No Río de Xaneiro, traducín este poema portugués de Gabriela Tôrres Barbosa, que é unha homenaxe á xente pobre da favela, e despois pinteino nunha terraza. A comunidade local estaba intrigada co que estaba a facer, mais tan axiña como lles dei o significado da caligrafía, agradecéronmo porque se sentiron conectados coa peza.
In South Africa, in Cape Town, the local community of Philippi offered me the only concrete wall of the slum. It was a school, and I wrote on it a quote from Nelson Mandela, saying, "[in Arabic]," which means, "It seems impossible until it's done." Then this guy came to me and said, "Man, why you don't write in English?" and I replied to him, "I would consider your concern legit if you asked me why I didn't write in Zulu."
En Suráfrica, en Cidade do Cabo, a comunidade local de Philippi ofreceume o único muro de formigón do suburbio. Era unha escola e escribín nela unha cita de Nelson Mandela, que dicía: [en árabe], que significa "Parece imposible ata que se fai." Un día, achegóuseme un tipo e díxome: "Por que non escribes en inglés?" e eu respondinlle: "Consideraría lexítima a túa preocupación se me preguntases por que non escribo en zulú".
In Paris, once, there was this event, and someone gave his wall to be painted. And when he saw I was painting in Arabic, he got so mad -- actually, hysterical -- and he asked for the wall to be erased. I was mad and disappointed. But a week later, the organizer of the event asked me to come back, and he told me that there was a wall right in front of this guy's house. So, this guy -- (Laughter) like, was forced to see it every day. At the beginning, I was going to write, "[In Arabic]," which means, "In your face," but -- (Laughter) I decided to be smarter and I wrote, "[In Arabic]," which means, "Open your heart."
Unha vez, nun acto en París alguén ofreceu o seu muro para pintalo. Cando viu que eu estaba a pintar en árabe, toleou, --de feito, púxose histérico-- e pediu que se borrase a parede. Eu estaba enfadado e decepcionado. Mais, unha semana despois, o organizador do acto pediume que regresara, e díxome que había un muro xusto en fronte da casa dese tipo. Así que, ese tipo... (Risas) ía ter que velo á forza todos os días. Ao comezo, ía escribir: [en árabe], que significa "Na túa cara", pero... (Risas) Decidín ser máis elegante e escribín "[en árabe]", que significa "Abre o teu corazón."
I'm really proud of my culture, and I'm trying to be an ambassador of it through my artwork. And I hope that I can break the stereotypes we all know, with the beauty of Arabic script. Today, I don't write the translation of the message anymore on the wall. I don't want the poetry of the calligraphy to be broken, as it's art and you can appreciate it without knowing the meaning, as you can enjoy any music from other countries. Some people see that as a rejection or a closed door, but for me, it's more an invitation -- to my language, to my culture, and to my art.
Estou moi orgulloso da miña cultura, e tento ser un embaixador a través da miña arte. Espero poder romper os estereotipos que todos coñecemos, coa beleza da grafía árabe. Hoxe en día, xa non escribo a tradución da mensaxe no muro. Non quero romper a poesía da caligrafía. e como é arte podes apreciala sen coñecer o significado, igual que podes gozar da música doutros países. Hai xente que o ve como un rexeitamento ou unha porta pechada, mais, para min, é máis unha invitación á miña lingua, á miña cultura, á miña arte.
Thank you.
Grazas.
(Applause)
(Aplausos)