Street Art of Resistance 1St Ed 2017 Edition Sarah H Awad Editor All Chapter

Street Art of Resistance 1st ed.
2017
Edition Sarah H. Awad (Editor)
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/street-art-of-resistance-1st-ed-2017-edition-sarah-h-a
wad-editor/
Palgrave
Studies in
Creativity
and Culture
Street Art of
Resistance
EDITED BY
Sarah H. Awad &
Brady Wagoner
Palgrave Studies in Creativity and Culture
Series editors
Vlad Petre Glăveanu
Department of Psychology
Webster University
Geneva, Switzerland
Brady Wagoner
Department of Communication and Psychology
Aalborg University
Aalborg, Denmark
Both creativity and culture are areas that have experienced a rapid growth
in interest in recent years. Moreover, there is a growing interest today in
understanding creativity as a socio-cultural phenomenon and culture as a
transformative, dynamic process. Creativity has traditionally been con-
sidered an exceptional quality that only a few people (truly) possess, a
cognitive or personality trait ‘residing’ inside the mind of the creative
individual. Conversely, culture has often been seen as ‘outside’ the person
and described as a set of ‘things’ such as norms, beliefs, values, objects,
and so on. The current literature shows a trend towards a different under-
standing, which recognises the psycho-socio-cultural nature of creative
expression and the creative quality of appropriating and participating in
culture. Our new, interdisciplinary series Palgrave Studies in Creativity
and Culture intends to advance our knowledge of both creativity and
cultural studies from the forefront of theory and research within the
emerging cultural psychology of creativity, and the intersection between
psychology, anthropology, sociology, education, business, and cultural
studies. Palgrave Studies in Creativity and Culture is accepting proposals
for monographs, Palgrave Pivots and edited collections that bring together
creativity and culture. The series has a broader focus than simply the cul-
tural approach to creativity, and is unified by a basic set of premises about
creativity and cultural phenomena.
More information about this series at

http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/14640
Sarah H. Awad • Brady Wagoner
Editors
Street Art of
Resistance
Editors
Sarah H. Awad Brady Wagoner
Department of Communication and Department of Communication and
Psychology Psychology
Aalborg University Aalborg University
Aalborg, Denmark Aalborg, Denmark
Palgrave Studies in Creativity and Culture

ISBN 978-3-319-63329-9 ISBN 978-3-319-63330-5 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-63330-5
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017964491
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2017

This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether
the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of
illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and trans-
mission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or
dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication
does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant
protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book
are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or
the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any
errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional
claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.
Cover illustration: Artwork by .frA* / www.instagram.com/essegeefra / #essegeefra
Printed on acid-free paper
This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by Springer Nature

The registered company is Springer International Publishing AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
Contents
I ntroducing the Street Art of Resistance 1

Sarah H. Awad and Brady Wagoner
Part I Theories of Aesthetics, Resistance and Social Change 17
rt and Social Change: The Role of Creativity and Wonder 19

A
ubjectivity, Aesthetics, and the Nexus of Injustice:

S
From Traditional to Street Art 39
Thomas Teo
esisting Forms: Prolegomena to an Aesthetics of Resistance 63

R
Robert E. Innis
v
vi Contents
Part II Image Circulation and Politics 85
I ndigenous Images of Democracy on City Streets:

Native Representations in Contemporary Chilean
Graffiti and Muralism 87
Guisela Latorre
he Resistance Passed Through Here: Arabic Graffiti

T
of Resistance, Before and After the Arab Uprisings 113
Rana Jarbou
he Arabic Language as Creative Resistance 155

T
Basma Hamdy
Part III Urban Space: The City as an Extension of Self 177
peaking Walls: Contentious Memories in Belfast’s Murals 179

S
Daniela Vicherat Mattar
I nventive ReXistence: Notes on Brazil Graffiti and City

Tension 201
Andrea Vieira Zanella
mbodied Walls and Extended Skins: Exploring Mental

E
Health Through Tataus and Graffiti 223
Jamie Mcphie
I ndigenous Graffiti and Street Art as Resistance 251

Matthew Ryan Smith
Contents
vii
Part IV Artists and Social Movements 275
epresentations of Resistance: Ironic Iconography in

R
a Southern Mexican Social Movement 277
Jayne Howell
he Democratic Potential of Artistic Expression in

T
Public Space: Street Art and Graffiti as Rebellious Acts 301
Cecilia Schøler Nielsen
The Aesthetics of Social Movements in Spain 325

Óscar García Agustín
heherazade Says No: Artful Resistance in Contemporary

S
Egyptian Political Cartoon 349
Mohamed M. Helmy and Sabine Frerichs
I ndex 377
List of Figures
Chapter 1
Fig. 1 Mural in Tahrir Square after the 2011 Egyptian
revolution. Graffiti artist: Omar Fathy (Picasso).
Photo credit: Ranya Habib 3
Chapter 3
Picture 1 Palestinian Roots, Ahmad Al Abid, York University, Toronto,
Photo by Thomas Teo 47
Picture 2 Filled in Shibboleth in Tate Modern, London, Photo
by Thomas Teo 50
Picture 3 Capitalismo = Terrorismo, Valparaiso, Chile, Photo by
Thomas Teo 53
Picture 4 Endless Worship, Wall painting in London 2016, Photo,
Courtesy Klaus Dermutz 54
Picture 5 Kill All Artists, Wall painting in Venice 2016, Photo,
Courtesy Klaus Dermutz 56
Chapter 5
Fig. 1 Aislap, Meli Wuayra (2010), graffiti mural, Museo a
Cielo Abierto San Miguel, Santiago 88
Fig. 2 Gigi (Marjorie Peñailillo), Untitled (2011), graffiti mural,
Valparaiso, Chile 98
Fig. 3 Gigi (Marjorie Peñailillo), Luisa Playera (2013), graffiti
mural, El Tabo, Valparaiso, Chile 99
ix
x List of Figures
Fig. 4 Gigi (Marjorie Peñailillo), Luisa del Bosque (2012),

graffiti mural, Villa Alemana, Chile 100
Fig. 5 Inti, untitled graffiti mural (“Ekeko”) (2012), Bellas
Artes, Santiago 103
Chapter 6
Fig. 1 Hanthalah in Amman, Beirut, Cairo, Riyadh, Bahrain,
and refugee camps in Lebanon 119
Fig. 2 (a) Leila Khaled is a member of the Popular Front for
the Liberation of Palestine, who became notorious as an
airline hijacker in 1969. Her family fled during the 1948
Palestinian exodus. Photo by William Parry; (b) Al Mubadara
(Palestinian National Initiative) is a Palestinian political party,
itself a resistance to both Fatah and Hamas, led by Mustafa
Barghouti. Photo by Ameer Al Qaimari 123
Fig. 3 Calligraphy in Bahrain’s villages (2007–2010) 127
Fig. 4 Pro- and anti-Assad graffiti war. Visible stencil is a play on
Hizballah’s logo with the phrase, “and the people will
prevail.” Hamra-Beirut, Lebanon. 2013 133
Fig. 5 (L-R): “It doesn’t matter what she’s wearing, harassment is a
crime,” “women are a red line,” Bahia Shehab’s “No” stencils,
“you can’t break me” with face of Samira Ibrahim, “I am free”
in a woman’s voice, jinsiyati campaign for women’s right to pass
nationality on to children, “no matter how much it does or doesn’t
show, my body is free,” “fight rape,” “no to harassment,”
“I am demonstrating on July 8th,” “against the regime,” “she
will not be forgotten, sitt el banat” (reference to the blue bra
incident), “the uprising of women in the Arab world” logo,
juxtaposition of media attention towards Aliaa Elmahdy
and Samira Ibrahim, Alaa Awad’s pharaonic women mural,
stencil of a woman driving, “salute to the woman fighter,”
“the street is also ours,” “I support the uprising of women in
the Arab world so that no child is raped in the name of marriage,”
“don’t silence me,” clenched fist in female symbol, “Nefertiti”
by Zeft, “I don’t have a car, I have a camel, #women2drive,”
group sexual harassment,” “I am my own guardian.”148
Chapter 7
Fig. 1 ‘Perception’, Photo Courtesy of eLSeed, 2016 164
Fig. 2 ‘Sheikh Emad Effat’ by Ammar Abo Bakr, Mohamed
Mahmoud Street, Cairo, 2012. Photo, Hassan Emad Hassan 166
List of Figures
xi
Fig. 3 A still from ‘The Homeland Hack’, photo courtesy of

Arabian Street Artists, 2015 170
Chapter 8
Photo 1 Shankill road, Belfast, DVM 2009 184
Photo 2 Republican mural on Beechmount Avenue,
Belfast 2009, DVM 186
Photo 3 Loyalist mural on Sandy Row, Belfast 2009, DVM 188
Photo 4 Mural of the West Belfast Taxi Association taxi, supported
by former IRA members, along the Falls Road, Belfast,
DVM, 2009 190
Photo 5 Mural off Shankill Road, Belfast, DVM 2009 194
Chapter 9
Photo 1 Pixação in Florianópolis, Santa Catarina, Brazil 206
Fig. 1 Mosaic of graffiti produced by Brazilian artists in different
cities in the country. The mosaics in Figs. 1 and 2 were
produced by Laura Kemp de Mattos (kemp.laura@gmail.com)
and the rights of use of the images granted to the author 213
Fig. 2 Mosaic of graffiti produced by Brazilian artists in
different cities 214
Chapter 10
Annotated Polaroid 1: Tataus228
Annotated Polaroid 2: Rape City 231
Annotated Polaroid 3: The Bear House 233
Annotated Polaroid 4: Love 237
Chapter 11
Fig. 1 Jessica Sabogal, This Type Love. Mural (2015). Montreal,
Canada. Image courtesy of Jessica Sabogal 253
Fig. 2 Marianne Nicolson, Cliff Painting. Petroglyph (1998).
Kingcome Inlet, British Columbia, Canada. Image courtesy
of Marianne Nicolson 258
Fig. 3 Nicholas Galanin. Indian Petroglyph (2012). Image courtesy
of Nicholas Galanin 259
Fig. 4 Corey Bulpitt. Salmonhead/LIFE (2015). Washington State,
United States. Image courtesy of Corey Bulpitt 265
Fig. 5 Warren Schlote. THIS IS INDIAN LAND. Ketegaunseebee
(Garden River) near Baawaating (Sault Ste. Marie), Ontario,
Canada. Image courtesy of Warren Schlote 268
xii List of Figures
Chapter 12
Fig. 1 “URO as Represor” (Photo by author) 284
Fig. 2 “URO as Tehuana” (Photo by author) 287
Fig. 3 Helicopter with image of Cué (Photo by author) 291
Fig. 4 Oaxaca: The land where god and the resistance never die
(Photo by author) 296
Chapter 13
Photo 1 by Cecilia, Copenhagen 2010 305
Photo 2 by Jonny Hefty, Aalborg 2015 305
Photo 3 by Jonny Hefty, Aalborg 2015 306
Photo 4 by Cecilia, Copenhagen 2008 318
Photo 5 by Cecilia, Odense 2015 320
Chapter 14
Fig. 1 María González Amarillo 327
Fig. 2 Contrafoto21 335
Fig. 3 @redesycalles 338
Fig. 4 @redesycalles 340
Fig. 5 Alberto Escudero, No Somos Delito 342
Chapter 15
Cartoon 1 From right (the dog) to left (the girl): “Haa haay…Until
the last breath hahahaay…Until the last beat of my heart,
ha ha ha, oh my heart…the parliament is master of its
decision hohoho…Gamal is the driver of modernization,
haha, my heart will stop from laughter…” 350
Cartoon 2 Two judges, wearing the Green Sashes of Judiciary Honor,
are head-butting a football to each other. On the air-borne
football is written ‘The Constitution’. The caption reads
‘Professionals playing with the Constitution of Egypt’ 357
Cartoon 3 Text at top: ‘Withdrawal of civilian factions from
constitution-forming committee’. Bubble, man saying:
“That way, what’s left is its bottom half only!” 359
Cartoon 4 The red book, ‘Constitution of 2014’, is saying: “It’s like,
doctor, I have a problem…I feel I’m not taken seriously…
I feel useless…and the comers and goers keep slapping me
around…”360
Cartoon 5 On the sword: ‘Military Courts’. Writing on paper:
‘No…No’. Sheherazade is saying: “I don’t know why I feel
Shahryar is not dead” 364
Introducing the Street Art of Resistance
Sarah H. Awad and Brady Wagoner
The world we live in today is defined more by borders and walls than by
common spaces. Mental and physical barriers separate us from them.
They divide those in power from the masses, separating people by nation-
ality, ideology, and identity, and marginalizing all those who do not con-
form to the societal norm. But these barriers, no matter how concrete, are
permeable, open to interpretation, negotiation, and destruction. This
book is about the multiple ways people use imagination to reconfigure
those barriers and create meaningful spaces.
The book covers a wide spectrum of sociocultural contexts in which
the power dynamics and the motives for doing resistance art vary widely.
Yet the case studies presented share a common intention of proclaiming
spaces and influencing public discourses through street art, graffiti, and
images. Throughout the book we will look at walls that have become an
arena for contentious dialogues through which social and political resis-
tance is manifest.
S.H. Awad (*) • B. Wagoner

Department of Communication and Psychology,
Aalborg University, Aalborg, Denmark
© The Author(s) 2017 1

S.H. Awad, B. Wagoner (eds.), Street Art of Resistance, Palgrave Studies in Creativity
and Culture, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-63330-5_1
2 S.H. Awad and B. Wagoner
We will start the introduction of the book with a case example of a

revolution street art image from Egypt, connecting it to the different key
aspects of street art that will be discussed in the book’s chapters. We will
then discuss the social life of images in urban space exploring their sym-
bolic, dialogical, contextual, and transformative character. Finally, we
will look at the potential of those images as art tools for resistance.
evolutionary Graffiti in Egypt:

R
A Case Example
Following 18 days of intensive nationwide protests with an epicenter in
Cairo’s Tahrir Square, then-president Hosni Mubarak resigned on 11
February 2011 after having been in power for 30 years. One of the most
visible signs of the momentous change was a flourishing of street art in
the country’s major cities, including songs, monuments, posters, perfor-
mances, and most of all graffiti. Simple paintings of flags, fists, and other
symbols of solidarity and empowerment became ubiquitous in the streets,
whereas sophisticated murals expressing revolution’s values, memory, and
project for the future were created in key sights, such as Tahrir (which
appropriately means “Liberation” in Arabic). The revolution provided the
right conditions for the emergence of major artistic talents energized by
the hope for a new Egypt. Their aesthetic success brought the cause inter-
national recognition through the countless newspaper articles devoted to
their art. Street art, in general, and murals, in particular, became a major
tool for the Egyptian revolutionaries. They have continued to use it until
this day to fight for the unrealized ideals of “bread, freedom and social
justice”.
Figure 1 is an exemplary mural, painted by graffiti artist Omar Fathy
(graffiti signature: Picasso) in September 2012 at which time the Muslim
Brotherhood had taken power through the election of Mohamed Morsi.
The Brotherhood was perceived by many to care little about promoting
the revolutionary agenda; they had probably also made a backroom deal
with the military during the transitional period before the presidential
Introducing the Street Art of Resistance 3
Fig. 1 Mural in Tahrir Square after the 2011 Egyptian revolution. Graffiti artist:
Omar Fathy (Picasso). Photo credit: Ranya Habib
election. The mural is significant in a number of ways, each of which

points to key aspects of street art that will be addressed in the present
book. First, it is painted on the corner of Tahrir Square and Mohamed
Mahmoud Street, which became the most widely known site for revolu-
tionary graffiti and was the location of many street battles with the mili-
tary and police. Occupying central places in the city ensures high visibility
and infuses the space with a revolutionary identity, showing it is not
under full state control. Throughout this book we will see examples of
strategic placement of images to advance a particular political project, as
well as how places and images mutually interrelate (see Latorre, this vol-
ume; Mattar, this volume; Smith, this volume; Agustín, this volume).
Second, the mural powerfully positions the viewer, in this case quite
literally. We stand together with the artist and the Egyptian flag from
inside Tahrir, facing the violent police and military, who, in turn, shield
the faces of the political leaders behind them. The paintbrush is juxtaposed
to the primitive club of the military, which is elaborated in the red text:
A regime fearing a paint brush and a pen

An unjust system that attacks the victim
If you were righteous, you wouldn’t have feared what I draw
All you do is fight walls, show off your power on paintings
But inside you, you are a coward
You never rebuild what has been destroyed
In the case studies of this book the positioning takes other forms, such as
between conflicting social groups (e.g., Irish Catholics and Protestants—
see Mattar, this volume), indigenous groups’ struggle with post-colonialism
(see Latorre, this volume; Smith, this volume), between artists and the gov-
erning system (see Helmy & Frerichs, this volume; Nielsen, this volume;
Howell, this volume; Jarbou, this volume) or positioning oneself within
city space affirming presence (Zanella, this volume; Mcphie, this volume).
Third, the image is filled with local and international symbols. The
military and police are represented as violent in nature through blood,
skull and crossbones, fanged teeth, and a club. ACAB is an international
symbol standing for “All Copes Are Bastards”. The artist clothed in the
colours of the Egyptian flag, represented with the tools of a more tradi-
tional painter. The composite head builds equivalences between past and
present authorities, on the right Mubarak and on the left Tantawi, who
was the leader of the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF).
Behind them is Mohammad Badie, the Muslim Brotherhood leader, who
was thought to be running the show from behind the scenes. The text
below reads “the commander never dies,” which rhymes a local proverb
that offspring are similar to their parents, so that the parents, in a way,
never die. All these symbols operate through feelings that they produce in
the viewer, rather than through their “face” value. In the studies of this
book we see symbolism borrowed from diverse cultural streams, which
are threaded together in street art that aims to challenge local structures
of power. This is also illustrated in the book in the use of language and its
iconic meaning (see Hamdy, this volume), as well as indigenous motifs
(see Latorre, this volume; Smith, this volume).
Finally, it is the nature of street art to be transitory. The above mural

was, in fact, the third version painted on the same spot, after earlier ones
had been painted over. The first version had just the composite face of
Mubarak and Tantawi with the phrase below it. The second version was
painted during the presidential elections and included, behind the com-
posite face, the faces of Amr Moussa and Ahmed Shafik, who were ear-
lier members of Mubarak’s political party. After the mural in Fig. 1, a
fourth version was painted that included the face of ousted president
Mohamed Morsi and the silhouette of a face with a beret behind him,
suggesting the coming of military rule. The next day, the artist painted a
civilian face to replace the beret, feeling that it might stifle the collective
optimism following Morsi’s downfall (Hamdy & Karl, 2014). Thus, this
mural took on multiple forms through time, representing the changing
power dynamics and popular feelings in Egypt. In addition to being
repainted, pictures of the mural were also distributed online and in the
publications of numerous books about revolutionary graffiti in Egypt.
The best of these books, Walls of Freedom (Hamdy & Karl, 2014) is now
outlawed there.
This mural is one example from the case study of revolutionary
graffiti in Egypt during and after 2011. The name of this book is bor-
rowed from a chapter about this case study written by the editors in
collaboration with one of the book contributors (Awad, Wagoner, &
Glaveneau, 2017). The initial questions of inquiry had to do with
what interaction occurs once those graffiti images are in city space.
Who are the different social actors involved and the visual dialogue
and tension that occurs through the walls between those actors, and
how it could be generative of social change. As the situation in Egypt
progressed, it was of more interest what happened to those initial
images of street art, how they were erased by government, reproduced,
transformed onto online media, and how they were contested by
other counter images from the government. This shifted the interest
into the transformations that happen to images once they enter urban
space, how they can be studied from socio-cultural psychology, and
what stories they tell us about change in a society as we follow the
social life of those images.
Social Life of Images

The features of the mural in Fig. 1 suggest a much more complex notion
of images than is typical. The traditional view of images going back to
Aristotle is that we replace direct perception with mental images, which
we use in thinking. Sensory experience is thus the basis of all knowledge.
Consciousness becomes an activity of pictorial production, reproduction,
and representation like something projected on a surface (Mitchell,
1984). The world is split between physical and mental space, object and
subject. The world and mind are symmetrical, except that the later
depends on the former. While this notion of images feels intuitively cor-
rect it comes with a number of difficulties. First, images become sites of
consciousness in their own right; we think through physical images just
as much as mental (Wittgenstein, 1958). Second, they cannot be seen
without a “trick of consciousness,” being “there” and “not there” at the
same time (Mitchell, 1984). Third, images as in Fig. 1 are not perceived
simply visually but through multiple senses. We put our body into the
image; stand beside the artist and confront the bloody violence of the
authorities. This presents a more dynamic view of images than the tradi-
tional notion would have it. Fourth, people perceive images different as a
result of their personal and social-cultural background. The interpreta-
tion of images is thus part of a social process. In short, images are not pas-
sively perceived impressions of the world; rather, they construct a
representation of the world, ourselves, and our social relationships, which
can motivate collective action as revolutionary murals in Egypt did. In
what follows we will outline key features of images as approached through
social-cultural psychology—namely, their symbolic, dialogical, contex-
tual, and transformative character.
The Symbolic Nature of Images
Images are interpreted here from a psychological understanding of

humans as beings that create and use symbols to act on the world, others,
and themselves (Vygotsky & Luria, 1994). These symbols are social in
origin, being derived from ones social group, but are also creatively
t ransformed by individuals. Through symbols human beings are in a con-

stant process of mutually changing their environment and, in turn, being
changed by it (Valsiner, 2014). We build monuments and create archives
so as not to forget. Mitchell’s (1984) approach to graphic images is fur-
ther elaborated in this account to explore their dynamics in urban space,
including how they function through graffiti, street art, posters, and
monuments. They do not just communicate a single message, but are
embodied with changeable meanings that give them their symbolic sta-
tus. Their iconic construction of shape, color, and form propose a mean-
ing, and borrows from previous images, as well as creates new compositions
and meanings. Because of these polyvalent qualities we refer to them as
symbols rather than signs. Symbols are signs embodying multiple mean-
ings, carrying a face and an underlying sentimental value that gives them
their stability and effectiveness (Bartlett, 1924; Wagoner, 2017).
Contemporary politics often involves creating compelling images of
group leaders to rally the public around a cause. Returning to the exam-
ple of Egypt, now-president Al-Sisi has effectively created an image of
himself as a strongman that can save the country from the impeding
chaos, which can be seen on government billboards and in other media.
Social Actors and Dialogue
Once in the public sphere, the image takes on a new life in the hand of
several actors as they take the positions of producers, audience, and author-
ity. These social actors exercise agency as they produce, interpret, trans-
form, and destroy images. The producer of an image could be a graffiti
artist, a caricaturist, or a government entity producing a poster or build-
ing a monument. The image then is exposed to an audience, including
pedestrians, as well as authority figures, who not only perceive those visu-
als, but actively interpret, modify, and destroy them. Audience exposure
also goes beyond the physical location of an image through news and
online media. Many street art images were seen by international audi-
ences; their visual nature transcended language barriers and facilitated a
wide exposure. The social life of images is further controlled by authority.
The position of authority refers to any actor controlling what is allowed
or not allowed in public space. Most of the time this is the government
and local authorities through censorship, but it could also be private
owners, pedestrians, and neighborhood watchers claiming authority over
certain parts of the city and erasing images that they see as violating their
space. The different social actors also play different roles in different
phases of an image process, for example the government could be image
producer one moment, audience in another, and authority in a third.
This tripartite framework thus looks at images as creating interactive
dialogues between the social actors as they negotiate different contentious
issues. This is possible because images present a condensed argument and
prototype for a socially shared form of knowledge; in theoretical language
we can say images provide the figurative nuclei for new social representa-
tions (Moscovici, 1984). The audience can then actively create their
counter-arguments in response to those attributed to the image (Davis &
Harré, 1990), engaging in a dialogical and argumentative process
(Lonchuk & Rosa, 2011). We normally think about dialogue as a sym-
metrical conversation, taking place through language discourses, but the
dialogue in street art is a visual one, that is relational, temporal, dynamic,
power-based, and changing through time. This dialogue presupposes
change rather than stability, involving the constant negotiation of
thoughts and meanings together with the creation of divergent social
realities. A creative image may trigger a special kind of tension for the
viewer. It may represent the existing social realities of the time, while
simultaneously communicating something new that violates these reali-
ties, playing between the familiar and the unfamiliar (Markova, 2003).
This dynamic often creates perceptual, emotional, and representational
tensions that can continue to influence the viewer long after (Moscovici,
1976). Through this visual dialogue power is distributed among the dif-
ferent social actors and the multiple voices they present.
Context
Context is a complex notion that involves social-cultural factors, the

medium, and materiality. As already mentioned, socio-cultural factors
directly influence how we understand images. This point has been
thoroughly described by hermeneutic philosophy: when we interpret

some material we enter a cultural stream of interpretation. There is no
understanding without social and historical mediation (Gadamer, 1989).
Thus, similar to other human behavior, images cannot be analyzed in
isolation of the place and time of the action, and the social, cultural, his-
torical, and political dynamics affecting the production, perception, and
social life of the images. The chapters of this volume provide ample his-
torical contextualization in order to highlight the evolving norms, sites,
and relationships that continuously gnaw into the present. It is only
against this background that we can adequately understand the particu-
larities of each case.
The medium through which the image is placed whether city space,
online, or news media, as well as how the image travels in between those
mediums is also of interest in interpretation. For example, the city space
is an especially effective medium in creating visibility and negotiating the
power dynamics within a system. The specific placement of an image in
the urban environment reproduces space that is initially produced by a
centralized power, thus negotiating the authority’s dominant control over
this space (Lefebvre, 1991).
The specific materiality of an image further tells the situated story of it.
The physical locality of those images, the surface they occupy (legal/illegal
graffiti walls, government building, under the bridge, gentrified and touris-
tic areas), and the tools used to produce them (paint, stencil, spray, print
posters) are all informative of the social life of the image. In a gray sandy
city as Cairo, colors easily strike recognition on the wall: a large yellow
smiley face on a barricade wall in the middle of clashes between protestors
and security forces creates a symbol for recognition; placing a stencil spray
documenting the killing of a protestor in the same spot they were killed
create an experience of remembrance in its situated immediacy; and the
change of revolutionary graffiti from big murals to sprayed stencils in
response to security risks and threat of arrest illustrates adapted resistance
strategies in a changing political landscape (Awad, 2017; Awad et al., 2017).
Or outside of Egypt: the placement of the graffiti of a relaxed nude body,
which far from the aesthetic ideals of the society, by the natural topography
of the beach in Chile helps to defy patriarchal notions of feminine beauty
right where they are contested (see Lattore, this volume); and the strategic
placement of markings on colonized space is a physical symbolic act of

reclaiming lost land (see Smith, this volume). There are also surfaces that
invite and trigger expression as they form physical and symbolic barriers
that give shape to different forms of injustice. To name but a few examples:
the Israeli–West Bank wall (see Jarbou, this volume), the USA–Mexico
wall, new walls erected within Baghdad, ruins of the Berlin wall which
stands as a reminder of a segregated past, and the sectarian divisions on
walls in Northern Ireland (see Mattar, this volume).
Transformation of Images
Central to the study of images in the public sphere, especially urban

space, is the acknowledgment of their temporality. The social life of image
transformation can be as or more informative as an analysis than the
content of an image at one point in time. The key idea is that as an image
is produced in a certain context, no matter how novel it is, it has a past
life and is oriented toward future dialogues. The past life includes the his-
tory of the different icons constructing the image, the previous images it
is contesting, and the medium it travelled through. Then once intro-
duced in a certain context, it takes a life span of its own, independent of
the intentions of the producer; its audience and censors appropriate it
differently, assign meanings to it, and physically alter it by modification,
reproduction, or destruction. Following this social life for a certain image
tells a story about a contentious dialogue within a certain community.
This is a story about arguments, what is tolerated, negotiated, and
repressed. The different additions made to the mural in Fig. 1 every time
it was repainted, for example, tells a story of power transitions, desperate
aspirations, and counter-revolution progression.
On the Multiple Forms of Art and Resistance

Now that we have highlighted some key features of images that will be
discussed further in the chapters, we look here at their potential as tools
for resistance. This book starts from the premise of understanding
r esistance as an act of opposing dominant representations and affirming

one’s perspective on social reality in their place. Resistance is seen as a
“social and individual phenomenon, a constructive process that articu-
lates continuity and change, and as an act oriented towards an imagined
future of different communities” (Awad et al., 2017). Therefore, when we
choose to focus on art that triggers social change, we look at social change
as the collective, symbolic, meaningful, and substantial processes of
change affecting society (Wagoner, Jensen, & Oldmeadow, 2012). With
this premise we are adopting a very inclusive definition of art, which
includes different creative visual interventions that open up spaces for
multiple voices in a society. In a broad sense, this book deals mostly with
different forms of street art interventions that are used as political tools in
order to create dialogue, tension, resistance, and social change. But it also
includes street interventions that contrast this meaning such as commis-
sioned interventions and murals that hinder this dialogue (see Mattar,
this volume).
We will look at the aesthetic value in those interventions as embodied
in their meaning and social act of resistance, rather than in how they
might be evaluated by their traditional artistic criteria. Murals—large
paintings directly executed on walls (coming from the Spanish word for
wall, mural)—will be a prototype thoroughly explored in the present
book but are by no means the only form. Graffiti is another form
explored, that includes mainly typography, but also images in many
instances. Graffiti is a diverse genre that belongs to an underground cul-
ture where its freedom of expression and in many instances illegality are
at the core of its practice. In contrast to graffiti’s typically illegal status,
there will be also examples of commissioned urban art. From one side,
commissioned art shows the growing success of street art that made local
authorities and businesses want to embrace it and use it for beautifica-
tion, profit, and tourism. From the other side it opens up questions
about its commercialization. What started as an organic and free-spirited
movement is now often done for profit (see Bansky’s film Exit Through
the Gift Shop for a brilliant portrayal of this dilemma). This also raises
the question, “what is public art?”: is it all forms of art outside of the
formal spaces of museums and exhibitions? Is it about accessibility to all
and interaction with the public (Miles, 1997)? And what is public versus
common space (see Agustín, this volume)? Lastly, the discussion of dif-
ferent visual interventions in city space will also include printed posters,
installations, and even structures, which all communicate different sto-
ries through representations in images.
The distinctions—murals, graffiti, urban art, etc.—highlighted above
can be limiting. They are mentioned here mainly to point out that there
is an open discussion around what counts as each, and not to imply that
we can neatly classify works into different boxes. Classification tends to
simplify one form and restrict oneself to a single perspective. Most of the
time an image can be interpreted as an intertwined style of more than one
form. Moreover, the styles continuously travel between different medi-
ums with changing forms. In this book we have left the definition of
terms open for different contributors to use them as they best fit their
context of investigation.
The Chapters to Follow

In the first section of the book “Theories of Aesthetics, Resistance, and
Social Change”, Vlad Glaveanu explores the relationship between cre-
ativity, wonder, and social change with a particular focus on public, par-
ticipatory, and interactive forms of art. Glaveanu discusses art as a creative
activism that has the potential to create spaces for reflexivity and foster
social transformation. Thomas Teo then highlights various forms of
struggle and injustice that relate to subjectivity and the arts, admitting
that art embodies neoliberal contradictions and often supports the status
quo. Teo elaborates on the possibilities and limitations of aesthetics in
resisting power in the visual and performing arts, arguing that street art
may be a better candidate for challenging the status quo than traditional
art. Robert Innis uses Dewey’s aesthetics to point out how various cre-
ative practices that were not meant to be considered works of art give rise
to material forms that provoke new ways of interaction and destabilize
existing social and political relations, looking specifically at the critical–
aesthetic role of graffiti as “resisting forms”.
In the second section, “Image Circulation and Politics”, Guisela
Latorre looks at Chilean community-driven street art that recognizes and
celebrates the current and past challenges to colonization posed by native

peoples of the Americas, casting them as models for resistance to the
Chilean neoliberal state. She investigates the Chilean urban landscape
and how it could promote experiences, ideas, and aesthetics often mar-
ginalized or silenced in the country’s official history. Rana Jarbou studies
graffiti in the Arab world before and after the Arab uprisings. She inves-
tigates the interrelation between visual production and political struggle
in the region and how it continues to shape cultural identity. Graffiti
circulation is seen as creating online and offline social spaces in which
expressions of resistance are shared beyond physical communal borders,
highlighting new networks of knowledge production and solidarity.
Basma Hamdy then focuses on the creative use of language in resistance
and its symbolic attributes. She looks at the significance of the Arabic
language, its influence on collective identity in the Middle East, and illus-
trates where it is used in resistance as a symbol of power.
In the third section, “Urban Space: The City as an Extension of Self ”,
Daniela Vicherat Mattar investigates cases when visual productions on
city walls become objects of division, conflict, and barriers to coexistence
rather than spaces of resistance and negotiation. She analyzes murals in
Belfast, Northern Ireland, as they express the contested memories about
the city’s contemporary history of division. Looking at how urban infra-
structures shape our social life, where street art, murals, and urban graf-
fiti afford walls having a voice, telling stories, and keeping memories
alive. Andrea Vieira Zanella then looks at graffiti in different cities of
Brazil as re-inventing urban space by adding voices to the urban polyph-
ony, provoking sacred sensibilities, and in a way affirming others possi-
bilities to life. This, in turn, affects how people relate with their city.
Jamie Mcphie then draws the connection between our bodies and the
environment, looking at mental health and well-being as not bounded
within a subjective self, but as a process distributed in the environment.
He describes graffiti and tattoos from Liverpool, UK, as extended der-
matological layers of the self, creating forms of narratives, testimony, and
resistance. Mathew Ryan Smith then focuses on indigenous graffiti
writers in European colonies such as Canada, Australia, and South
Africa. Looking at how graffiti writing indicates resistance through signi-
fiers and symbols of decolonization. He argues that the writing of graffiti
serves as a symbolic method of occupation, where the image stands in

for the physical body. Graffiti here represents another means of visibly
re-occupying tribal lands by embodying its spaces as a mode of
decolonization.
In the last section, “Artists and Social Movements”, Jayne Howell
illustrates the irony employed by a social movement in the state of Oaxaca
in Mexico in their visual productions. The chapter discusses the produc-
tion as well as the interpretation of posters, graffiti, and three-dimensional
imagery to critique neoliberal policies that they contend contribute to
economic marginalization. Cecilia Nielsen then discusses the street art
and graffiti scene in Denmark, focusing on the political aspect of those
city interventions and their democratic potential. She argues that the aes-
thetic value of graffiti and street art works are beyond their beautifying
values, but in their potential of exposing new ideas and questioning sta-
tus quo in public space. Óscar García Agustín then looks at the visual
representations of three social movements in Spain as they transform the
privatized public space into a common space, giving voice and visibility
to those who think that their voice has been excluded from the public
and is not being taken into account. Mohamed Helmy and Sabine
Frerichs then turn to the visual production in caricatures and the use of
humor. They look at contemporary political cartoons in Egypt and how
they are deeply connected with the Egyptian national character despite
heightened censorship. Building on a rich repertoire of visually and con-
ceptually authentic elements, it is argued that those images are used as a
democratic practice that has the potential for being a sword as well as a
shield.
References
Awad, S. H. (2017). Documenting a contested memory: Symbols in the chang-
ing city space of Cairo. Culture & Psychology, 23(2), 234–254.
Awad, S. H., Wagoner, B., & Glaveanu, V. (2017). The (street) art of resistance.
In N. Chaudhary, P. Hviid, G. Marsico, & J. Villadsen (Eds.), Resistance in
everyday life: Constructing cultural experiences. New York: Springer.
Bartlett, F. C. (1924). Symbolism in folklore. In Proceedings of the VIIth interna-

tional Congress of psychology (pp. 278–289). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge
University Press.
Davies, B., & Harré, R. (1990). Positioning: The discursive production of selves.
Journal for the Theory of Social Behaviour, 20, 43–63.
Gadamer, H. (1989). Truth and method. New York: Crossroad.
Hamdy, B., & Karl, D. (2014). Walls of freedom: Street art of the Egyptian revolu-
tion. Berlin: From Here To Fame Publishing.
Lefebvre, H. (1991). The production of space (D. Nicholson-Smith, Trans.).
Oxford: Blackwell.
Lonchuk, M., & Rosa, A. (2011). Voices of graphic art images. In M. Märtsin,
B. Wagoner, E. L. Aveling, I. Kadianaki, & L. Whittaker (Eds.), Dialogicality
in focus: Challenges to theory, method and application. New York: Nova Science
Publishers.
Marková, I. (2003). Dialogicality and social representations. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Miles, M. (1997). Art, space and the city: Public art and urban futures. London:
Routledge.
Mitchell, W. J. T. (1984). What is an image? New Literary History, 15, 503–537.
Moscovici, S. (1976). Social influence and social change. London: Academic
Press.
Moscovici, S. (1984). The phenomenon of social representations. In R. Farr &
S. Moscovici (Eds.), Social representations (pp. 3–68). Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Wagoner, B. (2017). The constructive mind: Bartlett’s psychology in reconstruction.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Wagoner, B., Jensen, E., & Oldmeadow, J. A. (Eds.). (2012). Culture and social
change: Transforming society through the power of ideas. Charlotte: IAP.
Wittgenstein, L. (1958). Philosophical investigations. Oxford: Blackwell.
Valsiner, J. (2014). An invitation to cultural psychology. London: Sage Publications.
Vygotsky, L., & Luria, A. (1994). Tool and symbol in child development. In
J. Valsiner & R. van der Veer (Eds.), The Vygotsky reader (pp. 99–172).
Oxford: Blackwell.
Sarah H. Awad is a PhD fellow at the Centre for Cultural Psychology, Aalborg
University, Denmark. She received her MSc in social and cultural psychology
from London School of Economics and Political Science and her BA in mass
communication from the American University in Cairo. Her research interests

are in the interrelation between the fields of cultural psychology, communica-
tion, and social development. She studies the process by which individuals
develop through times of life ruptures and social change using signs to create
alternative visions of social reality. She looks specifically at images in the urban
space and their influence on identity, collective memory, and power relations
within a society.
Brady Wagoner completed his PhD in psychology at University of Cambridge

and is now Professor of Psychology at the Aalborg University, Denmark. He has
received a number of prestigious academic awards, including the Sigmund Koch
Award, Gates Cambridge Scholarship, and was awarded the early career award
from the American Psychological Association (division 26). His publications
span a wide range of topics, including the history of psychology, cultural psy-
chology, remembering, imagination, creativity, and social change. He is associ-
ate editor of Culture & Psychology and Peace & Conflict, co-founding editor of
Psychology & Society, and on the editorial boards of several other journals. He has
published ten books, including Symbolic Transformation: The Mind in Movement
Through Culture and Society (Routledge, 2010) and Culture and Social Change:
Transforming Society Through the Power of Ideas (Information Age, 2012). His
latest books are The Constructive Mind: Bartlett’s Psychology in Reconstruction
(Cambridge University Press) and Handbook of Culture and Memory (Oxford
University Press).
Part I
Theories of Aesthetics, Resistance
and Social Change
Art and Social Change: The Role
of Creativity and Wonder
Change is, undeniably, the real constant in the existence of both indi-
viduals and society. While social change has repeatedly been claimed as
omnipresent (see Reicher & Haslam, 2013), we are still in need of the-
ories that can account for the incredibly wide spectrum of societal
transformation, from incremental to revolutionary, from local to global.
It is not my aim in this chapter to provide such a theory. However, I
will attempt to bring a new angle into a growing field of studies closely
related to social change—creative activism. My interest in this area
doesn’t have to do only with the fact that I am a creativity scholar and
a social psychologist by training, but also with the importance of gain-
ing a deeper understanding of activism as one of the key engines of
change within community and within society. What distinguishes cre-
ative activism is the fact that it engages artistic skills without being
reducible to art (Harrebye, 2016). At a more basic level, it designates
activism that surprises us, that stands out as different, original, and
potent when it comes to redefining the way we see and relate to the
V.P. Glăveanu (*)

Department of Psychology, Webster University, Geneva, Switzerland
© The Author(s) 2017 19

S.H. Awad, B. Wagoner (eds.), Street Art of Resistance, Palgrave Studies in Creativity
and Culture, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-63330-5_2
20 V.P. Glăveanu
social world. Creative activism is thus not a sub-form of social activism

but a quality of activist or socially engaged action. Street art, Internet
memes, flash mobs, protests, and boycotts, to give just a few examples,
can be characterized as more or less creative, more or less novel in their
aims and the means employed to achieve them. And these means are,
very often, explicitly artistic.
Artistic creative activism (or artivism), in this context, refers to the
deliberate use of art within activist action. This is not the ‘high art’ of
galleries or museums but a much more participative form of art grounded
in everyday life, particularly in our communal living. Even when classic
artistic images or techniques are used, they are appropriated and trans-
formed in ways that can question societal norms, values, practices, and,
oftentimes, our conceptions of art itself. Street art is an excellent example
in this regard, and one I will come back to in this chapter. For the moment
let us note, together with Edelman (1995), that politics builds on art just
as much as art is guided by political values and discourses. There is no
form of artistic expression that doesn’t rely on such values and discourses,
even when the artist’s intention is not political in nature. Reversely, social
and political life is infused by the images and values embedded in art as a
way of seeing or constructing the world. And it is precisely this funda-
mental function of art that makes it quasi indispensable within creative
activism. As Campana (2011) concludes, based on a review of other
works:
The arts’ role in activism can include the communication of a movement’s

or group’s worldview, opposition, and vision; facilitation of dialogue
towards political and social consciousness for both participants and the
broader public; creation and expression of collective identity and solidar-
ity; and working toward ‘cognitive liberation’, a critical transformation
from hopeless submission to oppressive conditions to a readiness to change
those conditions. (Campana, 2011, p. 281)
In other words, the use of art in activism and, more broadly, in social
change, opens up the space of the possible, the space of imagination and
creativity for both activists and their audiences. It is a space where reality
becomes multiple and malleable, at least as experienced in art. However,
Art and Social Change: The Role of Creativity and Wonder 21
such artistic depictions of the social world are not inconsequential. On

the contrary, they both show and mobilize, reflect and transform, invite
viewers not only to notice, but also to participate. This is because much
of today’s artistic creative activism relies on public, socially engaged, par-
ticipative, performative, and/or interactive art. It is, essentially, art that
can ‘“disrupt everyday life and involve and inspire passersby’” (Boros,
2012, p. xi). As Boros (2012) continues, because it addresses everyone,
artistic creative activism is “inherently democratic” (p. 5), “intended for
the public and social spaces in our lives” (p. 6). Street art that carries
social or political messages is, once more, emblematic in this regard. But
why exactly is street art, and artistic creative activism more generally, impor-
tant for social movements and potentially effective in delivering social change?
The present chapter answers this question by pointing to creativity and
wonder.
My main argument here is that creativity, and principally the expe-
rience of wonder situated at its core, can help us bridge art and society
and explain the relation between activism and social change. In order
to understand why this might be the case we need, first of all, to con-
sider why creativity has been largely absent until now from theories of
social change. Undeniably, many manifestations of activism for social
change, including street art, can be considered creative. What pre-
vents us from discussing them as such is a long legacy of seeing cre-
ativity as an individual, intra-psychological process that has little to
do with society and much more with ‘creative domains’ such as the
arts and sciences. Countering this approach, I review here a sociocul-
tural model of creativity based on notions of perspective, reflexivity,
and wonder. In particular, wonder, as an experience and active explo-
ration of the possible, plays a vital role in creative action. What do
these notions have to do with social change? Towards the end of the
chapter I discuss and exemplify my claim that creative activism partici-
pates in social change by enabling us to experience collective wonder. The
chapter ends with a few considerations regarding the limits of creativ-
ity and art and also a possible explanation for why, even when seem-
ingly failing, artistic creative activism still contributes to long-term
social change.
22 V.P. Glăveanu
Creativity and Social Change

Social change comes in many shapes and forms, but most of the time it
involves social action or mobilization. In such contexts, social change
“takes place as a result of human agency and intention to affect a given
social environment based on the view that existing social conditions or
relations are untenable” (Subašić, Reynolds, Reicher, & Klandermans,
2012, p. 62). For Harrebye (2016), social movements “consist of groups
of people who share a collective identity centered on social solidarity
(internally and in a certain way often with the surrounding society), a
common identifiable cause, and ideas that are maintained and advocated
over time” (p. 47). The human agency mentioned above, as well as the
capacity to advocate for new ideas, can be discussed in terms of creativity.
And yet, creativity is surprisingly absent from theories of social change.
In a review of the literature within social and political psychology, Subašić
et al. (2012, p. 62) mention traditional concepts in this area of study:
social identity, intergroup relations, relatedness, minority influence, per-
ceptions of the social world, group-based emotions, etc. The danger
embedded in operating with many of these concepts, even if this is not
the intention of the authors proposing them, is that of using reifying,
often dichotomic categories: us versus them, minority versus majority,
cooperation versus conflict, and so on. While many of these categories are
not intrinsically static (see, e.g., studies of re-categorization processes;
Gaertner, Mann, Murrell, & Dovidio, 1989), their research use tends to
focus us on how things “are” (perceived, felt, or instituted) and less on
how they “could be.” What is largely missing is thus a view of how identi-
ties, perceptions, and emotions are mobilized within social action to cre-
ate a space for critical reflection about what is possible; in other words, a
space for creativity and imagination in the social arena.
There are many reasons why creativity as a concept is absent from the-
ories of social change. To begin with, creativity research, at least in psy-
chology, has focused largely on individual attributes at the expense of
social variables, including the study of how people create together
(Glăveanu, 2010). Second, it oftentimes reduced creativity to cognition
and different types of thinking (e.g., divergent, combinatorial, lateral),
disconnecting idea generation from action (what most refer to nowadays
as innovation rather than creativity; Anderson, Potočnik, & Zhou, 2014).

Third, society rarely features as a domain of creative action, unlike art and
science, design, etc. While notable artistic or scientific creations do con-
cern society as a whole, there is little interest for the creativity involved in
living together and solving communal problems (what I refer to as soci-
etal creativity; Glăveanu, 2015a). Finally, as Harrebye (2016, p. 114) also
states, the idea of creativity has been tainted by its association with capi-
talism and consumerism, losing its critical edge. To create, according to
the most common psychological definition, means to generate novelty
and value (Amabile, 1996), and, unfortunately, this value is often consid-
ered in economic terms. The importance of creativity for the health of
individuals and society, for transforming what is given in new and sur-
prising ways, and, ultimately, for being at the heart of social change,
escapes both creativity and social theorists.
What would a sociocultural rather than individual-based view of cre-
ativity bring to theories of social change? First and foremost, in sociology
and political science, a regained focus on agentic individuals within the
collective. Models of society, including social change, need to balance
structural constraints and human agency in their depictions of the social
world and, often, this is a very difficult task. Understanding creativity as
a relational concept, taking place at the interface between self and other,
between what exists in the situation and what is “not there” or “not yet
there,” offers an exciting theoretical venue for addressing both person and
society in their evolving interrelation. Second, psychology studies of
social change are hindered primarily by what Reicher and Haslam (2013)
rightfully call the “conformity bias,” manifested in rendering people “as
puppets, driven by unchanging urges, incapable of addressing, let alone
changing, their circumstances” (p. 114). By postulating a universal and
static human nature and orienting it towards stability and familiarity,
psychologists have little to add to understanding change, and even less
fostering it. What including creativity in theories of human and social
development offers is basically a correction of this bias and a new empha-
sis on agency, within constraints (Gruber, Clark, Klempe, & Valsiner,
2015). This is a very important point to make since, in lay conceptions,
creating is often seen as the ultimate individual freedom. My u nderstanding
of creativity is precisely one of bounded freedom, one that is constrained
24 V.P. Glăveanu
but, at the same time, enabled by other people. And this is exactly why
creativity has a great part to play in social change—it builds on social
relations and interactions while transforming them.
If creativity itself has been remarkably absent from discussions about
society, the same is not true of art, particularly in recent years (see David
& McCaughan, 2006; Mesch, 2013). Art, often taken as a proxy for cre-
ativity, is equally harmed by a view of artists as “isolated and alienated
from society” (Campana, 2011, p. 279), while, in fact, they actively par-
ticipate in how society is portrayed, thought of and acted upon. By focus-
ing on socially engaged, public, and participative art as part of creative
activism, my hope in this chapter is to shed new light on the relation
between creativity and society. I argue that creativity embedded within
the arts has the potential to both trigger and shape social movements and
lead, under specific circumstances, to effective social change. Before
developing this argument further though, a question arises: is all activist
art, for example street art, supposed to be creative? While important, this
kind of question can be misleading, as it invites us to operate with a
black-and-white assessment of creativity. Instead of inquiring into when
and where creativity is present (or missing), we should focus our atten-
tion on how socially engaged art can be creative and how this creativity
participates in social change. The first question is addressed in the next
section, the second one in the sections following it.
How is Street Art Creative?

Asked in this manner the question probably surprises those who don’t
even consider street art—for example tags, stencils, and graffiti—in terms
of creativity. For some, the debate is whether graffiti is aesthetically pleas-
ing or not, if it infringes private property or not, if it should be legal or
not, etc. Many would also probably point to the difference between sign-
ing one’s name on the wall and a stencil by Banksy and consider the latter
artistic (thus creative) rather than the former. However, what this implies
is an a-contextual judgment of creativity based on the classic criteria of
novelty, originality, and value. Even a tag can be considered creative
depending on how it is made, when and where (for instance, tags placed
in largely inaccessible places often make us wonder about how and when
did their makers achieve their aims, often a sign of great ingenuity). As
any product of human activity, street art can very well be assessed in
terms of how novel or unique it is, whether it contributes to community
or not, and so on. And, indeed, we can discuss a continuum of creativity
here—from simple tags to elaborate graffiti—just like in many other
domains. But this kind of creativity assessment would focus us, once
more, on the “what” rather than the “how” of creativity. In answering the
“how” question, we need to move beyond street art as a product and
understand it as a process reuniting makers and their audiences.
The creative process in the case of a stencil or graffiti doesn’t begin with
the idea and doesn’t end with its realization. On the contrary, the distrib-
uted notion of creativity I am advocating for (see Glăveanu, 2014) is
sensitive to the expanded context of human creative action, in this case,
of engaging in street art. Creative activism, for Harrebye (2016, p. 14),
“can be regarded as being creative in two senses of the word: firstly, by
creating a space for the revitalization of the political imagination and sec-
ondly, by doing so in inventive ways.” The latter is what we mostly con-
sider when thinking about creativity and street art, for instance. Is there
novelty in the topics chosen? In the methods used? In the location or
message? The former, though, is a much more important and yet often
neglected sign of creativity—the ability to open up spaces for thought, to
connect us to what is possible in our lives and in our society.
In other words, street art is at least potentially creative because, even
when seen as “ugly,” “useless,” “violent,” or even “criminal,” it does carry
with it the capacity to make us wonder. We wonder about the author or
authors of graffiti, their motives, and life trajectory. We wonder about the
meaning of what is depicted and the significance of the space it occupies.
We wonder about how other people might see it and perhaps about
our own reactions (positive or negative) to it. Last but not least, we won-
der about what can and cannot be done in public spaces and, in the best-
case scenario, try to see society through the lenses of street artists and their
work. In other words, the potential creativity of these products and their
capacity to make us wonder should not be read only in terms of the prod-
ucts themselves, their more or less aesthetic qualities—such judgments
need to consider a broader context of who, when, where, and how they
26 V.P. Glăveanu
were made and received by others. Of particular interest are experiences

of wonder that can lead viewers, not only authors, to new understandings
or insights about the social world, their place and possibilities to act
within it. They nurture, even if in small, sometimes unperceivable ways,
the political imagination mentioned by Harrebye (see also Glăveanu & de
Saint-Laurent, 2015). This is one possible answer to the “how” question
above. Street art is creative for opening up a space for reflexivity, imagina-
tion, and future creativity for individuals and for the collective.
Boros (2012) similarly refers to the basic functions of public art in
relation to societal living in this manner:
There are at least three main ways that public art can create, support, and
enliven both communal spaces and feelings of community. The first is
through the beautification and amplification of our public spaces in order
to create pride and communal feelings of ownership. The second is through
direct and overt political critique and protest, which is in itself a political
action. (…) The third way (…) is when art demonstrates imaginative new
ways of seeing our world and our everyday lives simply through its restruc-
turing of the everyday. (Boros, 2012, p. 15)
It might sound farfetched to invest all street art with creativity and
political power and this is not my claim. Indeed, in places and at times
when it becomes repetitive, it has no obvious message or serves mainly
one function (e.g., to vandalize), it is highly likely it will not mobilize
meaning-making or attract support. What I want to emphasize in this
chapter, however, is that street art can help us see our world in a new
way and this potential is highly relevant for our present discussion of
creativity and social change. As Edelman (1995) eloquently wrote,
works of art in general “can create perspectives regarding objects and
scenes in everyday life and in history that are not otherwise apparent
and not otherwise prominent” (p. 6). Street art often excels in this
regard because its main function is to make visible objects and scenes we
might not want to see or know about. More than this, it generates a dif-
ferent perspective on these objects and scenes, one that is often at odds
with the societal view on them. This is, as I explain next, the defining
feature of creativity.
Creativity, Perspectives, and Wonder

To create doesn’t mean to come up with as many ideas as possible, for as
much as creativity tests insist on this aspect. To create means to act in and
on the world in ways that are considered novel and meaningful by the
creator and/or by other people. Essentially, creative action places in dia-
logue different perspective on the world, on oneself, others, one’s activity or
situation, etc., it reflects on the differences between them and uses these differ-
ences to generate new ideas, objects, practices, and so on. Creativity, accord-
ing to this definition, is not about ideas but actions that are flexible
enough to articulate multiple perspectives on reality (for more details see
Glăveanu, 2015b, 2016). Perspectives are preferred here because they
have a social origin—they relate to different positions in the world—and
orient our action. To take an example, social change involves multiple
positions (e.g., activists, government officials, members of the civil soci-
ety, of the military, and so on), each one developing one or more perspec-
tives on society. To create in this context, just like in science, art, or
everyday life, one has to be able to engage with more than their own
perspective. This is, arguably, what makes successful activists—they are
able, in their work, to address the concerns of different audiences while
challenging or resisting taken-for-granted, dominant perspectives.
Importantly, this model assumes that we are not fixed in a certain posi-
tion (and its associated way of seeing and doing things) but we can, phys-
ically or imaginatively, switch or alternate between positions, effectively
re-positioning ourselves towards a given reality. For example, we can dis-
like graffiti because it vandalizes private property. This perspective origi-
nates from a position towards street art that is typical for property owners
or the police. However, what would it mean to consider graffiti from the
perspective of its makers? Such re-positioning can bring new insights,
challenge existing beliefs, and even lead to creative action. But, for this to
happen, three conditions need to be set in place:
1. The difference in perspectives needs to be acknowledged: we need to

become aware that multiple perspectives on the same reality are
possible.
28 V.P. Glăveanu
2. The difference in perspectives needs to be valued: perspectives differ-

ent than one’s own should be appreciated and understood in their own
right.
3. The difference in perspectives needs to be acted upon: perspectives
need to be placed in dialogue and this dialogue externalized and
shared.
In other words, noticing difference is only the first step—reflecting

about differences in perspective and being able to see one’s own perspective
as other people would is the engine of creative action. Creativity relies on
the possibility of taking distance from the situation at hand, re-posi-
tioning oneself in relation to it and developing new perspectives that
guide our action. It thus requires a history of interacting with other
people and making efforts to understand their positions and grasp their
perspectives, which might be very different from ours. In this new
model, creativity is alimented by the views of others; conversely, deny-
ing other positions and perspectives on reality other than one’s own or
the dominant view in society severely reduces our possibility for acting
creatively. To take a simple example, a chair is typically used for sitting
and this is the dominant societal perspective that we acquire through a
personal history of socialization and learning from others (from par-
ents, peers, teachers, etc.). But, of course, there are many other perspec-
tives on chairs and, consequently, ways of acting in relation to them.
One can imagine, for instance, gluing a chair to the celling and calling
it modern art. This perspective emerges out of an artist’s position, one
we might not typically take but we are nevertheless familiar with from
meeting or knowing about artists. What does it mean, for our thinking
and action, to be able to relate to a chair both in the conventional man-
ner and in “alternative” ways, opened up by different perspectives? I
would argue the latter considerably increases our chances of acting cre-
atively through expanding our understanding of what is possible in the
given situation.
Following the example above, if you were surprised by the idea of glu-
ing a chair to the celling, and even if you dismissed it as silly, you probably
started thinking though that chairs can be used in many ways, even ways
that make little sense in everyday life. In other words, you perhaps began
to wonder what other original things we could do with a chair—adopting

the terminology used here, what other perspectives on the chair are pos-
sible and which positions do they represent? Wondering, in this context,
is associated with experiencing different perspectives and becoming curi-
ous about what else is possible in the situation at hand. Being aware that
the space of the possible is wider than initially imagined and being ready
to explore this space further characterizes the experience of wondering
and places wonder at the core of creative expression.
What does all of this have to do with social change? First of all, the
perspectival model of creativity and its emphasis on positions, perspec-
tives, and reflexivity is directly applicable to the study of societal issues,
marked precisely by the multiplicity of social groups, roles, and points of
view. Second, redefining creativity as collaborative action is relevant for
social change that builds not (only) on ideas, but primarily on what peo-
ple do, together with others. Finally, placing reflexivity and wonder at the
center of creativity sheds new light on creative activism, where activists
deliberately try to foster both in their effort to resist hegemonic perspec-
tives and challenge the status quo. How this is possible and the role played
by art in this process is considered in the next section.
Social Change, Art, and Collective Wonder

Until this point I have argued that creativity theories could help us under-
stand social change, particularly through creative activism such as the use
of public, socially engaged art. I supported this claim with a theoretical
perspective on creativity that grounds it in action rather than thinking
and brings to the fore the importance of positions, perspectives, and
reflexivity in the creative act. More specifically, creativity builds on won-
der as an experience of and engagement with the possible. What I propose
in this section is that the use of art in social change serves primarily the
purpose of fostering wonder and, through it, cultivating the possibility of
creative action. The experience of wonder articulates, in such cases, two
facets: wondering at, which is often infused by strong emotional reactions
(and, in this case, is stronger than the experience of awe), and wondering
about, which signifies the process of exploring multiple perspectives and
30 V.P. Glăveanu
reaching different understandings of the situation. Both facets are instru-

mental in mobilizing authors and viewers towards creative action.
It is important to note that, since creative activism deals with issues of
collective concern and generally targets groups of people rather than indi-
viduals, the experience of wondering it stimulates has a collective quality.
By talking about collective wonder here I am not suggesting that groups or
communities wonder (i.e., drawing on a group mind hypothesis), but
that the experience of wondering itself becomes shared. The fact that, in
activism and social movements, people don’t only act (more or less cre-
atively) together but also wonder together is often overlooked and yet
crucial for the dynamic of social change. If in wondering we become
aware of new perspectives and start exploring them further, collective
forms of wondering amplify the potential for social transformation first
of all by making it thinkable for many instead of a limited few. This phe-
nomenon has deep social, cognitive, and emotional consequences for
both individuals and communities. Socially, it encourages participation
and solidarity; cognitively, it opens up new perspectives for action; emo-
tionally, it can be experienced as cathartic and inspire a variety of emo-
tional states, from outrage to hope. The crucial question I will come back
to in the conclusion is when and how we can mobilze such potential to
actually deliver social change.
For the moment let us note that there is support in recent literature for
the dynamic proposed above. Harrebye (2016), for instance, discusses at
length what he calls the “mirror effect” or the critical theory of reflection
in the context of creative activism. For him, “creative activism uses mir-
roring techniques to try to get us to see alternatives, real or not, and
reflect the world around us in beautiful, distorted, and surprising ways”
(p. 22). These mirroring techniques illustrate nothing else but the consis-
tent use of reflection to stimulate the emergence of new perspectives and,
I would add, the experience of wonder. Harrebye takes his departure
from an interesting student tactic during the protests of 1996 and 1997
against Milošević’s regime in Serbia. During the demonstrations, partici-
pants would hold up huge mirrors in front of the police officers blocking
their way, thus confronting them not with a view of the students but of
themselves. For Harrebye this was not merely a way to show the police-
men the nature of the system they were part of but, in fact, an ingenious
method aimed at reducing the social distance between police and protest-
ers by giving them a common status—victims of the regime. The literal
use of mirrors in this case helps us reflect more generally on the meaning
and value of mirroring. In theorizing this aspect, Harrebye notes:
My use of reflection focuses on pragmatic and strategic types of critique and

has a double meaning. The mirroring aspect in these tactics refers to the
possibility of seeing something, literally, from a different perspective than
the ones usually offered to us in the hegemony of mainstream culture. The
contemplative aspect refers to the potential of such tactics to provoke
reflection in the individual, because it triggers questions about the truisms
that form the foundation of the automatic defense mechanisms that enable
us to maintain the coherent worldview that we feel is necessary to feel safe
in a society full of ideological trench warfare and confrontational head-
lines. The mirrors used for/against the police by the Otpor movement were
reflexive in both sense of the word: they ‘allowed’ the officers to see the situ-
ation from another perspective (they saw themselves) and they conse-
quently (may have) forced some of them to review the conflict and their
own role in it. (Harrebye, 2016, p. 130)
He also proposes a typology of mirrors in his book based on the dis-

tinction between “inside” and “outside”, as well as “critical” and “contem-
plative” mirrors. What the different emerging categories suggest is that
there are many ways in which we can use mirroring to generate new
perspectives and stimulate reflexivity. Some of these perspectives show us
differently, some show society differently, some help us reflect on the
present while others are oriented towards the future. All in all, the “mir-
ror effect” shares a great deal of similarity with the perspectival model of
creativity advanced in this chapter. They both discuss the importance of
re-positioning oneself and seeing the world through different perspec-
tives. They also give reflexivity, both at individual and group levels, a key
role in stimulating creativity and, ultimately, social change. However,
where Harrebye’s account stops short is in acknowledging the importance
of wondering in mirroring processes. I would argue, based on the
perspectival model, that what makes (some) police officers in the con-
crete example above engage with the protesters’ devices is precisely their
capacity to wonder about what the activists were doing and what that
32 V.P. Glăveanu
meant for everyone. Moreover, in emphasizing collective wondering I am

going here beyond the reflexivity of single individuals and claim, together
with Boros (2012, p. xiv), that “a feeling of connectivity is inherently
participatory” and “this interest is the first part of participation.” The use
of artistic techniques, a lot of them grounded in mirroring, is powerful
precisely because they make people experience wonder together, either as
authors, targeted audiences or spectators of creative activism.
To a great extent street art draws on this “togetherness of experiencing”
as it is essentially public. It also makes use of mirroring techniques in the
sense that, oftentimes, it presents back to viewers a new perspective on
their shared reality. While less explicit than Harrebye’s example of protest,
street art in the form of graffiti, tags, and stencils is nonetheless pervasive
in resisting mainstream ideologies and interpretations and offering its own
conception of the world. The mere existence of street art, in fact, chal-
lenges our normative understandings of art and aesthetics, private and
public property, the right to express opposing views, and so on. When
used in the context of protest, such as the Egyptian revolution, street art
acquires more than generic meanings and carries the collective memory (in
the making) about the conflict (see Awad, 2017; see also Jarbou, this vol-
ume, with reference to the Arab Spring). Graffiti about the events depict
not only (or not even) images but perspectives into what is happening that
are actively constructed in the space between graffiti artists, the authorities
and the general public (Awad, Wagoner, & Glăveanu, 2017). These per-
spectives are in dialogue with each other, support each other, or, at times,
clash, in providing a space for reflexivity, memory, and creativity. Smith
(2015), who considered the diagnostic role of art in Cairo, wrote that:
A tag, a message, or an image painted on a visible surface within a heavily

trafficked space is simply unavoidable, forcing the viewer to deal with its
presence. And indeed, viewers must reckon with graffiti—whether it is to
stop and look or to ignore the image, relegating it to background scenery.
Graffiti and graffiti artists force their unsuspecting audience into ethical
and aesthetic questions and decisions, leaving them to cope with the affec-
tive repercussions. (Smith, 2015, p. 32)
Being confronted by ethical and aesthetic questions is, in my account,

a result of being able to wonder about the graffiti itself, the events, and
the meaning of the oftentimes violent transformation taking place in

society. Capitalizing on this possibility of making people wonder and,
following this, to (creatively) participate in the revolution, protesters con-
structed, among other initiatives, a “Museum of Revolution” in Tahrir
Square in the winter of 2012. As described by Smith, this “museum” was
located in a large tent and included protest signs, pictures, and jokes from
the revolution, collected by the “curators.” “It presented both an affective
and educational attempt to inspire and shape emotions and solidarities”
(Smith, 2015, p. 36). It was also a collective effort to make people won-
der about themselves, their society, its present, and, most of all, its future.
Numerous other examples of the potential of street art to make audi-
ences wonder and cultivate collective forms of creativity aimed at social
change are offered in the present book. For instance, Zanella (this vol-
ume), discusses graffiti as a form of intervention in urban spaces, provok-
ing and promoting new ways of relating between inhabitants and the city,
cultivating urban polyphonies. Street art can also follow more specific
political agendas, such as raising awareness about a country’s indigenous
population and the their struggle against a living history of colonization.
Lattore (this volume) and Smith (this volume) vividly illustrate this
dynamic in the case of Chilean indigenously inspired graffiti and mural-
ism (see also the Decolonize Street Art Events in Smith, this volume). By
including in busy urban spaces images of native traditional healers and
spiritual leaders, these expressions of street art raise questions of inclusion
and diversity, actively trying to “democratize” public spaces. In these, and
many other cases presented throughout this book, we witness the poten-
tial of street art to surprise us, to challenge our views, to make us laugh
and, most of all, to make us think, reflect and wonder about the society
we live in, our collective contribution to and responsibility for its future.
Final Reflections
In this chapter I argued that creativity is essential for social change and,
more specifically, that the experience of wonder, an intrinsic part of the
creative process, is often stimulated by the use of art in creative activism.
If, in agreement with Edelman (1995, p. 7), we can say that “art creates
34 V.P. Glăveanu
realities and worlds,” then it also changes these realities and worlds by
including more perspectives on them and inspiring creative action. Of
course, though, not all experiences of wondering lead to creativity and
not all creativity translates into (effective) social change. The question I
would like to tackle at the end is why.
Harrebye (2016), dealing with the same problem, comments on the
“paradox” of creative activism:
Creative activism simply seems to be entertaining enough for a large and

potentially powerful segment to take things seriously. This strength also
however seems to be the biggest problem for these groups, as they do not
take the time to formulate a systematic structural critique capable of point-
ing in one direction, and thus end up serving as a coherent alternative to
the existing order. Values in today’s network society, which the artistic cri-
tique might help shape, are based on principles of temporality, flexibility,
and elasticity—none of which are compatible with the stability and stub-
bornness that critical masses need to mobilize momentum. The cynic,
ironic, and utopian features of creative activism are in a frustrating cyclical
sense both a reason and an effect of this predicament. (Harrebye, 2016,
pp. 118–119)
This observation is certainly accurate. It points to the fact that wonder

and reflexivity are necessary but not sufficient conditions for creative
social action to take place and, most of all, to be carried out and lead to
actual change in society. However, they are not in vain either. Wondering
and creativity are empowering experiences which leave their mark on
individuals and communities. While they might or might not generate
successful outcomes, they nevertheless set the stage for deeper social pro-
cesses to unfold. As Boros (2012, p. 12) rightfully notes, “personal artistic
experience (…) expands the limits of our conception of what is possible”
(p. 8) and, even when seemingly failing to trigger social change, it “none-
theless expanded the imagination of the collective consciousness, which
lays open the possibility for change” (p. 12). This is certainly true, in my
view, when it comes to the use of art and creative activism in Egypt and
elsewhere (see, e.g., a discussion of the Getzi protest in Turkey in Yalcintas,
2015; also the chapter on Egyptian cartoonists by Helmy & Frerichs, this
volume).
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
—¡De modo que estaré encerrada aquí hasta las seis! —exclamé
llena de furor—. Esto no se puede sufrir, es un abuso, un escándalo
Me quejaré a las autoridades, al rey.
—El rey está loco —dijo el viejo con horrible ironía.
—Al gobierno; me quejaré al arzobispo. O me dejan salir o gritaré
dentro de la iglesia, reclamando mi derecho.
Discurrí con agitación indecible por la iglesia, nave arriba, nave
abajo, saliendo de una capilla y entrando en otra, pasando del patio a
templo y del templo al patio. Miraba a los negros muros buscando un
resquicio por donde evadirme, y enfurecida contra el autor de orden
tan inicua, me preguntaba para qué existían deanes en el mundo.
Los canónigos dejaban el coro y se reunían en su camarín
marchando de dos en dos o de tres en tres, charlando sobre los
graves sucesos. Los sochantres y el fagotista se dirigían piporro en
mano a la capilla de música, y los inocentes y graciosos niños de coro
al ser puestos en libertad, iban saltando, con gorjeos y risas, a jugar a
la sombra de los naranjos.
Varias veces, en las repetidas vueltas que por toda la iglesia di
pasé por la capilla de San Antonio. Sin que pueda decir que me
dominaban sentimientos de irreverencia, ello es que mi compungida
devoción al santo había desaparecido. No le miré con aversión; pero s
con cierto enojo respetuoso, y en mi interior le decía: «¿Es esto lo que
yo tenía derecho a esperar? ¿Qué modo de tratar a los fieles es
este?»
Mi egoísmo había llegado al horrible extremo de pedir cuenta a la
divinidad de los desaires que me hacía. Irritábame contra el cielo
porque no satisfacía mis caprichos.
Pero, ¡maldita hora!, quien a mí me irritaba verdaderamente era e
deán tirano que mandaba encerrar a la gente porque se le antojaba
Desde que le vi salir del coro en compañía del arcediano, moviéndose
muy lentamente a causa del peso de su descomunal panza, le tuve po
un realistón furibundo, sin que por esto me fuese menos antipático
¿Por qué habían cerrado las puertas? Por poner el sagrado recinto a
salvo de una invasión plebeya, e impedir que el bullicio de los vivas y
mueras turbase la santa paz de la casa de Dios. Con todo su celo no
pudo el señor deán conseguirlo, y desde el patio oíamos claramente
los gritos de la muchedumbre y el paso de la caballería. La Giralda
cantó las cinco, cantó las seis, y la deplorable situación no cambiaba
ni las puertas se abrían, ni se desvanecía el rumor del pueblo. Yo creo
que si aquello se prolonga demasiado, me atrevo a decir dos palabras
al buen canónigo encerrador. Por fin no era yo sola la impaciente
otras muchas personas, detenidas como yo, se quejaban igualmente, y
todos nos dirigíamos en alarmante grupo al sacristán; pero sin
conseguir nada.
—Cuando Su Majestad haya salido de Sevilla —nos respondía—, o
se arma la de San Quintín, o todo quedará tranquilo.
Por fin, después de las siete, la puerta del Perdón se abrió y vimos
las Gradas y la gente que iba y venía sin tumulto. Yo me arrojé a la
calle como se arrojaría en el agua aquel cuyos vestidos ardieran
Miraba a un lado y otro; me comía con los ojos a cuantos pasaban
caminé apresuradamente hacia la Lonja y hasta el Alcázar; mi cabeza
se movía sin cesar, dirigiendo la vista a todo semblante humano. ¡Afán
inútil!... Yo buscaba y rebuscaba, y mi hombre no aparecía en ninguna
parte... Ya se ve... ¡las siete de la tarde! Se cansaría de aguardarme..
tendría que hacer...
Volví de nuevo a la catedral, recorrila toda, salí, di la vuelta por la
Lonja; pero, ¡ay!, si diera la vuelta a toda la tierra, creo que tampoco le
encontrara: ¡tal era la horrible insistencia de mi desgracia! Y, sin
embargo, hasta en las baldosas del piso, en el aire y en el sonido
hallaba no sé qué indicio misterioso de que él me había aguardado all
largas horas. Esto era para morir.
Después de mucho correr, senteme en un banco de piedra junto a
la Lonja. Tanto me enfadaba la gente que veía regresar del Alcázar y
de la puerta de San Fernando, que si las llamas de furor que
abrasaban mi pecho fueran materiales, de buena gana hubiera
vomitado fuego sobre los que pasaban ante mí. Venían de ver partir a
rey loco. Muchos se lamentaban de que se tratase de tal suerte a
soberano de Castilla. ¡Menguados! ¿porqué no tomaban las armas?
Sí, ¿por qué no las tomaban? Me habría gustado ver a todos los
habitantes de Sevilla destrozándose unos a otros.
La Giralda cantó otra hora, no sé cuál, y entonces me decidí a
tomar nueva resolución.
—Vamos a su casa —dije a Mariana.
—Es de noche, señora.
La infeliz no quería alejarse mucho de la casa. Pero no le contesté y
nos pusimos en camino para la calle del Oeste.
—¿Y si no está? —indicó mi criada—. Porque es muy posible que
con estas cosas...
—¿Qué cosas?
—Estas revoluciones, señora.
—Si no hay nada.
—Pues... como se han llevado al rey después de volverle loco... En
el patio de la catedral decía uno que tendremos revolución mañana
cuando se marche el gobierno, porque el gobierno se marchará.
—Déjalo ir: no nos hace falta. Date prisa.
—Pues yo creo que nos llevaremos otro chasco.
—Si no está en su casa, le esperaré.
—¿Y si no vuelve hasta muy tarde?
—¡Hasta muy tarde le esperaré!
—¿Y si no vuelve hasta mañana?
—Hasta mañana le esperaré. No me muevo de su casa hasta que
le vea. Ahora, ahora sí que no se me escapa. ¿Concibes tú que se me
pueda escapar?
XXIX
Diciendo esto, mi corazón, oprimido por tantos desengaños, se

ensanchaba, llenándose otra vez de esperanza, de ese don del cielo
que jamás se agota y que a nadie puede faltar.
—Pues no veo yo muy tranquila esta noche la ciudad de Sevilla —
indicó Mariana—. Si, como dicen, se ha marchado toda la tropa, puede
que nos despertemos mañana en un charco de sangre.
Echeme a reír, burlándome de sus ridículos temores, y seguimos
avanzando con bastante presteza hacia la calle del Oeste. Detúveme
antes de llamar en su casa, para que un breve descanso disimulara m
sofocación y se amortiguasen las llamaradas de mis mejillas.
—Sentémonos —dije a Mariana— al amparo de este árbol. Ahora
no hay gran prisa. Ya le tengo cogido. Estoy tranquila. Él ha de venir a
su casa. Ahora, ahora sí que le tengo en mi mano.
Cuando llamamos en la reja que daba entrada al patio, una muje
nos dijo que el señor Monsalud no estaba en casa.
—Pues tengo que hablarle precisamente esta noche, y le esperaré
—dije resueltamente.
Yo no reparaba en conveniencia alguna social. En el estado de m
espíritu, nada tenía fuerza para contenerme. Importábame ya muy
poco que me vieran, que me conocieran, que me señalasen con e
dedo, ni que el vulgo suspicaz y murmurador me hiciera objeto de
burlas y comentarios deshonrosos.
Al principio vacilaba en dejarme entrar la mujer que me abrió la
puerta; pero tanto insté y con tan arrogante autoridad me expresaba
que al fin me llevó a una sala baja. Allí estaba un viejecillo que, a la
débil claridad de un velón de cobre, arreglaba baúles y cajas, poniendo
en ellas libros, ropa y papeles. Era un tal Bartolomé Canencia. Él no
debía conocerme; pero se apresuró a saludarme con extremada
cortesía. Cual si comprendiera las ansias que yo padecía aquella
noche, dijo:
—No está en casa, ni puedo asegurar que venga pronto; pero s
que vendrá. Necesitamos arreglar todo para nuestra partida.
—¿Cuándo?
—Mañana. Nos vamos con el gobierno. ¿Quién se atreverá a
quedarse aquí después que marchen los ministros? Esto es un volcán
realista. En cuanto desaparezca el gobierno que obstruye el cráter, se
agitará con fuego y vapores vomitando horrores. ¡Pobre Sevilla! no ha
querido oír mis consejos, los consejos de la experiencia, señora; hela
aquí en poder del realismo más brutal. Este pueblo, tan célebre por su
riqueza y por su gracia como por sus procesiones, está infestado de
curas, y aquí los curas son ricos.
Ya me fastidiaba esta conversación, y hábilmente la desvié de la
política haciéndola recaer sobre mi objeto. Canencia contestó a mis
preguntas de una manera categórica.
—Esta tarde salimos juntos —me dijo—. Él se quedó en las Gradas
de la catedral, donde tenía una cita, y yo seguí hacia el Alcázar para
asistir a la salida de Su Majestad... Luego nos encontramos de nuevo
a eso de las siete: parecía disgustado, sin duda porque la cita no pudo
verificarse. Entramos en casa, y a poco salió para ver a Calatrava
Díjome que volvería a arreglar su equipaje, y aquí me tiene usted
arreglando el mío, señora, para lo que se le ofrezca mandar. De modo
que si usted desea algo en Cádiz, puede dar sus órdenes con toda
franqueza.
—Yo también pienso ir a Cádiz.
—¡Usted también! Bueno es que vayan todos —dijo con ironía
maliciosa— para que se haga con solemnidad el entierro de la
Constitución. Allí nació, señora, y allí le pondremos la mortaja; que
todo lo que nace ha de perecer... ¡Si se hubieran seguido mis
consejos, señora!... pero los hombres se han dejado enloquecer por la
ambición y la vanidad. Ya no existen aquellos repúblicos austeros
aquellos filósofos incorruptibles, aquellos sectarios de la honradez más
estricta y de la sabiduría ateniense, hombres que con un pedazo de
pan, un vaso de agua y un buen libro se pasaban la mayor parte de la
vida. Ahora todo es comer a dos carrillos, pedir destinos, figurar... en
una palabra, señora, ya no hay virtudes cívicas.
—¿Y es seguro que el gobierno marcha mañana? —le pregunté
para desviarle de su fastidiosa disertación.
—Segurísimo. No puede ser de otra manera.
—¿Por tierra?
—Por agua, señora. Los ministros y diputados marchan en el vapor.
—¿Y usted y Salvador van también en el vapor?
—Iremos donde podamos, señora, aunque sea en globo por los
aires.
Él siguió arreglando sus maletas, y yo me abrumé en mis
pensamientos. En la sala había un reloj de cucú con su impertinente
pájaro, de esos que asoman al dar la hora y nos hacen tantas
cortesías como campanadas tiene aquella. Nunca he visto un
animalejo que más me enfadase, y cada vez que aparecía y me
saludaba mirándome con sus ojillos negros y cantando el cucú, sentía
ganas de retorcerle el pescuezo para que no me hiciera más cortesías
El pájaro cantó las nueve y las diez y las once, y con su insolente
movimiento y su desagradable sonido parecía decirme: «¿Qué tal
señora, se aburre usted mucho?»
Todo el que ha esperado comprenderá mi agonía. Aquel resbala
del tiempo, aquella veloz corrida de los minutos que pasan de nuestra
frente a nuestra espalda, amontonándose atrás el tiempo que estaba
delante, es para enloquecer a cualquiera. Cuando no hay un reloj que
lleve la cuenta exacta de la cantidad de esperanza que se desvanece
y de la paciencia que se gasta grano a grano, menos mal; pero cuando
hay reloj y este reloj tiene un pájaro que hace reverencias cada
sesenta minutos y dice cucú, no hay espíritu bastante fuerte para
sobreponerse a la pena. Ya cerca de las doce me decía yo: «¡Si no
vendrá!»
Habiendo manifestado mis dudas al viejo Canencia, que parecía
algo molesto por la duración de mi visita, me dijo:
—Puede que venga y puede que no venga. Seguramente estará
ahora en el café del Turco o en casa del duque del Parque. Ya es
media noche. Dentro de unas cuantas horas será de día, y... ¡en
marcha todo el mundo para Cádiz!
Mariana bostezaba, siendo imitada por Canencia. Yo me sostenía
intrépida, sin sueño ni cansancio, resuelta a estar un año en aque
sitio, si un año tardaba en venir mi hombre.
—De todas maneras —dije a Canencia—, si se marcha mañana ha
de venir a arreglar su equipaje.
—Es muy posible, señora —me contestó secamente—. En caso de
que quiera usted retirarse, puede con toda confianza dejar el recado
verbal que guste. Yo se lo transmitiré puntualmente y con la fidelidad
de un verdadero amigo.
—Gracias.
—Le diré que ha estado aquí... Aunque usted no me ha dicho su
nombre, yo creo conocer a la persona con quien tengo el honor de
hablar, por haberla visto en Madrid algunas veces... ¿No es usted la
señora marquesa de Falfán?
Esta pregunta me hizo estremecer en mi interior, como si un rayo
pasara por mí. Pero dominándome con soberano esfuerzo, repuse
gravemente, con afectada vergüenza.
—Sí, señor: soy la marquesa de Falfán. Fiada en la discreción de
usted, me he aventurado a esperar aquí en hora tan impropia.
—Señora, yo soy un sepulcro, y además un amigo fiel de ese
excelente joven; y como le debo no pocos beneficios, a la amistad se
une la gratitud. Puede usted con toda libertad confiarme lo que quiera
Es muy posible que él no pueda verla a usted esta noche. Estará muy
ocupado, y sin duda el viaje de mañana trastorna sus planes, porque s
no recuerdo mal, hoy me dijo que pensaba despedirse de usted, por la
noche, en casa de doña María Antonia.
Al oír esto me quedé como mármol, y en seguida se me llenó e
corazón de ascuas. Desplegué los labios para preguntar: «¿dónde vive
esa doña María Antonia?» pero me contuve a tiempo comprendiendo
la gran torpeza que iba a cometer. Evocando toda mi habilidad de
cómica, dije:
—Así pensábamos; pero no ha podido ser.
El infame pájaro se asomó a su nicho, y burlándose de mí cantó la
una. Yo me ahogaba, porque a mis primeras fatigas se unía, desde
que habló aquel hombre, la inmensa sofocación de un despecho
volcánico de los celos que me mataban. En mi cerebro se encajaba
una corona de brasas resplandecientes; mi corazón chorreaba sangre
herido por mil púas venenosas. Mi afán, mi deseo más vivo era morde
a alguien.
Esperé más. Canencia seguía bostezando y Mariana dormitaba. Yo
sentía en mis oídos un zumbido extraño, el zumbido del silencio
nocturno, que es como un eco de mares lejanos, y deshaciéndome
esperaba. Habría dado mi vida entera por verle entrar, por pode
hablarle a solas un momento, arrojando sobre él las palabras, la furia
la hiel que se desbordaban en mí. A ratos balbucía terribles injurias
que siendo tan infames, a mí me parecían rosas.
El vil pajarraco volvió a chancearse conmigo, y haciendo la
reverencia más pronunciada y el canto más fuerte, anunció las dos.
—¡Las dos!... ¡pronto será de día! —exclamé.
—Fijamente no viene ya, señora. Es que se embarca con los
diputados —dijo Canencia, dando a entender con sus bostezos que de
buena gana dormiría un rato.
—¿Y a qué hora se embarcan los diputados?
—Al rayar el día: así se dijo anoche en el salón del Congreso
cuando se levantó la sesión, que ha durado treinta y tres horas.
Estuve largo rato dudando lo que debía hacer. Delante de m
pensamiento daba vueltas un círculo de fuego que alternativamente
en su lenta rotación, mostrábame dos preguntas. Primera: ¿Y si viene
después que yo me vaya? Segunda: ¿Y si se embarca en el muelle
mientras yo estoy aquí?
Yo veía pasar una pregunta, después otra. La segunda sustituía a la
primera, y la primera a la segunda en órbita infinita. Ambas tenían
igual claridad, ambas me deslumbraban y me enloquecían de la misma
manera. Yo, que por lo general me decido pronto, entonces dudaba
Cuando la voluntad se iba inclinando de un lado, el pensamiento
llamábame del otro, y así contrabalanceados los dos, ponían mi alma
en estado de terrible ansiedad. Largo rato permanecí en esta dolorosa
incertidumbre. Los minutos volaban, y acercándose aquel en que era
preciso resolver definitivamente, el silencio mismo llegó a impresiona
mi cerebro como un bramido intolerable, formado por mil voces. Oía e
latir de mi corazón como se oye un secreto que nos dicen al oído; m
sangre ardía, y por fin aquella misma palpitación de mi alborotado
seno fue como una voz que hablaba diciéndome: «Anda, anda.»
El pájaro, riendo como un demonio burlón, me saludó tres veces
con su cortesía y su infernal cucú. Eran las tres.
—Pronto será de día —dijo Canencia dejando caer sobre el pecho
su cabeza venerable.
Levanteme. Estaba decidida. Pareciome que don Bartolomé, a
verme dispuesta a partir, vio el cielo abierto. Despedime de é
bruscamente, y salimos.
—¿Adónde vamos, señora? —me dijo Mariana—. ¿No es hora de
retirarnos ya a descansar?
—Todavía no.
—¡Señora, señora, por Dios!... Está amaneciendo. No hemos
cenado, no hemos dormido...
—Calla, imbécil —le dije clavando mis dedos en su brazo—. ¡Calla
o te ahogo!
XXX
Amanecía, y multitud de hombres de mal aspecto vagaban por la

calle. Veíanse paisanos armados, y muchos guapos de la Macarena y
de Triana. Mi criada tuvo miedo; pero yo no. Repetidas veces nos
vimos obligadas a variar de rumbo para evitar el encuentro de algunos
grupos en que se oía el ronco estruendo de ¡vivan las caenas!, ¡muera
la nación!
Llegamos por fin al río. Ya el día había aclarado bastante, y desde
la puerta de Triana vimos la chimenea del vapor, que despedía humo.
—Si esos barcos de nueva invención humean al andar —dije—, e
vapor se marcha ya.
Desde la puerta de Triana a la Torre del Oro se extendía un cordón
de soldados de artillería. En la puerta de Jerez había cañones. Nada
de esto me arredraba, porque mi exaltación me infundía grandes
alientos, y hablando al oficial de artillería, logré pasar hasta la orilla
donde algunas tablas, sostenidas sobre pilotes, servían de muelle. E
vapor bufaba como animal impaciente que quiere romper sus ligaduras
y huir. Multitud de personas se dirigían al embarcadero. Reconocí a
Canga-Argüelles, a Calatrava, a Bertrán de Lis, a Salvato, a Galiano y
a otros muchos que no eran diputados.
«Él se irá también —pensé—. Vendrá aquí de seguro... Pero no, no
creo que se me pueda escapar.»
Una idea grandiosa cruzó por mi mente, una de esas ideas
napoleónicas que yo tengo en momentos de gravedad suma
Ocurriome embarcarme también en el vapor, si le veía partir. No tenía
equipaje, ¿pero qué me importaba? Mariana se quedaría para llevarlo
después.
Acerqueme a Calatrava, que se asombra mucho de verme.
—Quiero un puesto en el vapor —le dije.
—¿También usted se marcha?... ¿De modo que...?
—Temo ser perseguida. Estoy muerta de miedo desde ayer. Me han
amenazado con anónimos atroces.
—¿Ha preparado usted su equipaje?
—He preparado lo más preciso: el viaje es corto. Mi criada se queda
para arreglar lo que dejo aquí.
—También nosotros dejamos nuestros equipajes, porque no caben
en el vapor. Irán en aquella goleta.
—¿Me hace usted un sitio, sí o no?
—¿Un sitio? Sí, señora. Dejando el equipaje... El gobierno ha
fletado el buque. Puede usted venir.
Esto se llama proceder pronto y con energía... Pero observé a todos
los que llegaban, y no le vi. A cada instante creía verle aparecer.
—No puede tardar —dije, después que di mis órdenes a Mariana—
Ahora sí que es mío.
Mariana hacía objeciones muy juiciosas; pero yo a nada atendía
Estaba ciega, loca.
—¿Y si no se embarca? —me dijo mi criada—. Todavía no ha
venido...
—Pero ha de venir... A ver si está por ahí el duque del Parque.
Miramos las dos en todos los grupos, y no vimos al duque.
—¿El señor duque del Parque no va a Cádiz? —pregunté a
Salvato.
—El señor duque no se ha atrevido a votar el destronamiento.
—¿Y qué?
—Que los que no votaron no se creen en peligro, y seguirán en
Sevilla.
—De modo que Su Excelencia...
—No tengo noticia de que se embarque con nosotros.
—Venga usted —me dijo Calatrava alargándome la mano para
llevarme a la cubierta del buque.
—Entre usted, amigo, entre usted, que aún tengo que decir algo a
mi criada.
—Parece que vacila usted...
—En efecto..., sí..., no estoy decidida aún.
No, no podía entrar en aquel horrible bajel que iba a partir silbando
y espumarajeando, sin llevar al que turbaba mi vida. Yo les vi entra
uno tras otro, les conté; ni uno solo escapó a mi observación, y ¡él no
estaba! ¡Siempre ausente, siempre lejos de mí, siempre en dirección
diametralmente opuesta a la dirección de mis ideas y de m
apasionada voluntad! Esto era para enloquecer completamente, y digo
completamente, porque yo estaba ya bastante loca. Mi desvarío
insensato aumentaba como la fiebre galopante del enfermo solicitado
por la muerte.
Se embarcaron, ¡ay! Vi al horrendo vapor separarse del muelle; v
moverse las paletas de sus ruedas machacando y rizando el agua, le
oí silbar y mugir echando humo, hasta que emprendió su marcha
majestuosa río abajo.
No yendo él, no podía causarme aflicción quedarme en tierra. É
estaba también en Sevilla.
—Ahora —dije—, ahora no es posible que lo pierda otra vez. S
tengo actividad e ingenio, pronto saldré de esta angustiosa situación.
No quise detenerme, como el vulgo que se extasiaba contemplando
el humo del vapor que conducía hacia el postrer rincón de España e
último resto del liberalismo. Como aquel humo en los aires, así se
desvanecía en el tiempo la Constitución... Pero en mi mente no podían
fijarse ni por un instante estas ideas.
Érame forzoso pensar en otras cosas, y en la realidad de mi ya
insoportable desdicha. ¿A dónde debía ir? En los primeros momentos
después del embarque no pude determinarlo, y vagué breve rato por la
ribera, hasta que me obligaron a huir los excesos de la salvaje
muchedumbre, que se precipitó sobre los equipajes de los diputados
apoderándose de ellos y saqueándolos en presencia de la poca tropa
que había quedado en el muelle.
Al mismo tiempo sentí el clamor de las campanas echadas a vuelo
en señal de que Sevilla había dejado de pertenecer al gobierno
constitucional, y en cuerpo y alma pertenecía ya al absolutismo
¡Cambio tan rápido como espantoso! El pronunciamiento se hizo entre
berridos salvajes, en medio del saqueo y del escándalo, al grito de
¡muera la nación! La verdad es que los alborotadores hacían poco
daño a las personas; pero sí robaban cuanto podían. Al entrar por la
puerta de Jerez, procuré apartarme lo más posible de la turbulenta
oleada que marchaba hacia el corazón de Sevilla, con objeto, según
oí, de destrozar el salón de sesiones y el café del Turco, donde se
reunían los patriotas.
Lejos de desmayar yo con tantas contrariedades, el insomnio y e
continuo movimiento, parecía que la misma fatiga me daba alientos
prodigiosos. No sentía el más ligero cansancio, y mi cerebro, como
una llama cada vez más viva, hallábase en ese maravilloso estado de
actividad que es para los poetas, para los criminales y para los que se
ven en peligro, la rápida inspiración del momento. Yo sentía en mí un
estro grandioso, avivado por mis contrariadas pasiones, mi rencor y m
despecho. Tenía la penetrante vista del genio, y había llegado a ese
momento sublime en que los más profundos secretos de nuestro
destino se nos muestran con claridad espantosa. Mi pensamiento
como la aguja magnética de una brújula, señalaba con insistencia la
casa del marqués de Falfán.
—¡Oh, allí, allí... he de encontrar la solución de este horrible
problema!
XXXI
Y corriendo hacia la casa, no soñaba ya con las delicias de un

encuentro feliz y de una amable reconciliación, sino con proporcionar a
mi alma el inefable, el celestial, el infinito regocijo de un escándalo, de
una escena, de una de esas venganzas de mujer que son la Ilíada de
corazón femenino. No sé si me equivocaré juzgando por mí de todas
las mujeres; pero pienso firmemente que ninguna, por muy tímida que
sea, deja de sentir en momentos dados, y cuando se discuten asuntos
del corazón, el poderoso instinto de la majeza. La maja, digan lo que
quieran, no es más que lo femenino puro. De mí puedo asegurar que
en aquel instante me sentía verdulera.
«Tengo la seguridad —decía— de que le encontraré allí. El corazón
me lo dice... Es precisamente lo que necesito; es la satisfacción más
preciosa y agradable de mi inmenso afán, el desahogo de mi pecho
semejante a un volcán sin cráter; el consuelo de todas mis penas
Hablaré, gritaré, vomitaré injurias, ¿qué digo injurias?, verdades. Diré
todo lo que sé: abriré los ojos de un marido crédulo y bonachón
arrancaré la máscara a una hipócrita; confundiré a un ingrato... En
suma, estaré en mi elemento... ¡¡Ahora, Santo Dios de las venganzas
ahora sí que no se me puede escapar!!»
Al dirigirme a la plaza de la Magdalena, donde vivía el marqués, vi a
dos o tres patriotas que eran llevados presos por el pueblo con una
cuerda al cuello. ¡Pobre gente! Entre ellos vi a Canencia, que me
dirigió al pasar una mirada suplicante; pero no hice caso y seguí. Cas
arrastrando a Mariana, que apenas podía seguirme de puro cansada y
soñolienta, llegué a casa de Falfán.
En el patio encontré al marqués, que al punto que me vio
asombrose de la alteración de mi semblante, creyendo que ocurría
algún grave accidente.
—Señora —me dijo ofreciéndome una silla—, no extraño que esa
gente mal educada... Se están cometiendo toda clase de excesos en
la desgraciada Sevilla.
—No es eso, no. Si no me ha pasado nada.
—Señora, su rostro de usted me indica desasosiego, agitación.
—Es verdad; pero...
—Está usted muy intranquila.
—Intranquila no: estoy furiosa.
Después de decir esto y de romper en seis pedazos mi abanico
que ya lo estaba en cuatro, procuré tomar una actitud aparentemente
serena, pues el caso requería en mí la grave majestad del que
condena, no la atolondrada cólera y pueril turbación del condenado.
—¿Y por qué está usted furiosa? —me preguntó el marqués
confundido—. ¿En qué puedo servir a usted?
—¡Yo sé que está aquí!... —dije mirando al marqués de un modo
que le aterró.
—¿Quién?
—¡Oh!, ¿quién?... será preciso que yo hable, que lo diga todo...
—Señora, no comprendo una palabra.
—Llame usted a la señora marquesa, y quizás ella me comprenda
—repuse con amargo sarcasmo.
—Andrea no está en casa.
Al oír esto sentí un sacudimiento. Nuevo y más doloroso cambio en
mis ideas, en mi voluntad, en mi cólera, en mis planes; nuevo
movimiento de la aguja magnética que brujuleaba en mi corazón
marcándome el derrotero en medio de la tempestad... El marqués no
podía tener interés en negarme a su esposa. Así lo comprendí a
momento, y sin vacilar un instante, dije:
—¿Ha ido a la casa de doña María Antonia?
—Precisamente, allí está —manifestó Falfán en tono de confianza
honrada y tranquila que hubiera cautivado a otra persona más irritada
que yo—. La señora doña María Antonia se puso anoche mala, y m
esposa fue a acompañarla un ratito. A las diez estaba de vuelta.
—¿A las diez?
—Pero sin duda hoy se agravó la señora doña María Antonia
porque al rayar el día vinieron a buscar a Andrea y allá está
¿Encuentra usted en esto algo de extraño?
—No, señor, nada —dije levantándome—. ¿Y dónde vive esa doña
Antonia?
—En la calle que sale a la puerta de Carmona, número 26. ¿Pero
se va usted sin explicarme el motivo de su visita, su agitación...?
— Sí, señor, me voy.
—Pero...
—Adiós, señor marqués.
Quiso detenerme; pero rápida como un pájaro fugitivo, le dejé y sal
de la casa.
—A la calle que sale a la puerta de Carmona, número 26 —dije a
Mariana, que me seguía durmiendo; y para mí en el horroroso vértigo
que formaban mis pensamientos y mi marcha: «Ahora sí que de
ningún modo se me puede escapar.»
Yo saboreaba de antemano las horribles delicias del escándalo que
iba a dar, de la venganza que tomaría, de las palabras que saldrían de
mi boca, como el humo y la lava de un volcán en erupción. Me
deleitaba con aquella copa de amarguras que se convertía en copa
llena del delicioso licor de la venganza. Había llegado al extremo de
recrearme en el veneno de mi alma, y de hallar delicioso el fuego que
respiraba. Seguía teniendo las mismas ganas de morder a alguien, y
creo que mi linda boca tan codiciada, habría sido un áspid si en carne
humana hubiera posado sus secos labios.
Mariana, que a Sevilla conocía, me llevó hacia la puerta de
Carmona, yo no sé por dónde ni en cuánto tiempo. Había yo perdido la
noción de la distancia y del tiempo. Vi una calle larga y solitaria, con
muchas rejas verdes llenas de tiestos de albahaca. Vi una fila de
casas de fachada blanca iluminadas por el sol, y otra línea de casas
en la sombra. Yo buscaba el número 26, cuando sentí pisadas de
caballos. Delante de mí, como a cuarenta pasos, abriose una gran
puerta y salieron tres hombres a caballo. ¡Era él!
Corrí, corrí... Iba vestido con el traje popular andaluz, y su figura era
la más hermosa que puede imaginarse. Los otros dos vestían lo
mismo. Caracolearon un instante los corceles delante de la casa, y en
seguida emprendieron precipitadamente la carrera en dirección a la
puerta de Carmona.
Yo corría, corría, y al mismo tiempo gritaba. Mariana, que no había
perdido el juicio, me detuvo enlazando con sus dos brazos mi talle... M
furor estalló con un grito salvaje, con una convulsión horrible y este
apóstrofe inexplicable: «¡Ladrones! ¡Ladrones!»
En el mismo momento en que yo rugía de este modo, dos mujeres
se asomaban a la ventana de la casa y saludaban a los jinetes con sus
abanicos. Él miró repetidas veces hacia atrás y saludaba también
sonriendo. Vi brillar el lente de doña María Antonia, vi los negros ojos
de Andrea... ¡Oh, Satanás, Satanás!
Seguí hasta ponerme debajo de la ventana; pero esta se cerró
Seguí corriendo un poco más. Un grupo de hombres feroces apareció
por una bocacalle. Su aspecto infundía pavor; pero yo me adelanté
hacia ellos, y señalando a los tres jinetes que huían a escape fuera de
la puerta, entre nubes de polvo, grité con toda la fuerza de mis
pulmones:
—¡Que se escapan!... Corred... Corred tras ellos... ¡Que se
escapan!... Los patriotas, los más malos de todos, los ateos
blasfemos, los republicanos, los masones, los regicidas, los enemigos
del rey..., los que querían matarle... Corred y cogedles... Yo tengo
dinero... Mil duros al que les coja... ¡En nombre de la religión!... ¡En
nombre de las caenas!... Vamos, vamos tras ellos... ¡Que se escapan!
A medida que hablaba, iba desapareciendo en mi espíritu la noción
de lo externo, y me sentía envuelta en tinieblas o en llamas, no sé en
qué; me sentía caer en un hondo infierno lleno de demonios
sumergirme en abismos de negro delirio, de fiebre, de sueño o muerte
pues no puedo expresar bien lo que era aquello.
Perdí el conocimiento.
XXXII
Mi dolorosa enfermedad, que me puso al borde del sepulcro, duró

cuarenta días, de los cuales no sé cuántos pasé en terrible crisis, sin
conciencia de las cosas, atormentada por la fiebre. Mi sangre
enardecida había descompuesto en tales términos las funciones de m
cerebro, que en aquellos angustiosos días no vivía con mi vida propia
sino con el mismo fuego mortífero de la enfermedad. Asistiome uno de
los primeros médicos de Sevilla.
Cuando salí del peligro y hubo esperanzas de que aún podría
seguir mi persona fatigando al mundo con su peso, halleme en
tristísimo estado, sin memoria, sin fuerzas, sin belleza. Mas empecé a
recobrar muy lentamente estos tesoros perdidos, y con ellos volvían
mis pasiones y mis rencores a aposentarse en mi seno, como después
de una inundación, y cuando las aguas se retiran, aparece lentamente
la tierra, dibujándose primero los altos collados, luego las suaves
pendientes, y, por último, el llano. Así, pasada aquella avenida de
sangre que envolvió mi pensamiento en turbias olas venenosas, fue
apareciendo poco a poco todo lo existente antes del 13 de junio.
Una imagen descollaba sobre todas las que me perseguían cuando
mi fantasía, como un borracho que recobra la claridad de sus sentidos
empezó a presentarme lo pasado. Esta imagen era la de la huérfana, a
quien supuse corriendo sin cesar por campos y ciudades, buscando lo
que no había de encontrar. ¿Acaso el tormento de ella no era tan
grande o quizás mayor que el mío? Pero yo no me hacía cargo de
esto; y lejos de sentir lástima de mi víctima, echaba leña a la hoguera
de mis rencores, discurriendo mil defectos y fealdades en el carácte
de la hermana de Salvador, para deducir que sus angustias le estaban
muy bien merecidas. ¡Qué desatinos tan horribles pensé con este
motivo! Parece mentira que la exaltación de mi ánimo me llevara hasta
los últimos desvaríos, hasta el sacrilegio y la blasfemia.
«Es muy posible —decía yo— que mis horribles angustias hayan
sido causadas por las maldiciones de esa mujer. Al verse engañada
habrá pedido a Dios mi castigo, y Dios, no hay duda, hace caso de los
hipócritas... ¡Ah, los hipócritas! ¡Perversa raza! Son capaces con sus
fingidas lágrimas de engañar al mismo Dios y compelerle a castigar a
los buenos.»
A estas horrorosas ideas, hijas de una turbada razón, añadía otras
quizás más sacrílegas. Mi enfermedad, que parecía un aviso del cielo
no me había corregido; antes bien, cuando resucité estaba más
intolerante, más soberbia, y proyectaba nuevos planes para vencer la
tenaz contrariedad de mi destino. Lejos de desconfiar de mis fuerzas y
de acobardarme, tenía fe mayor en ellas y me vanagloriaba
suponiendo una inmediata victoria.
«Me han ocurrido tantos desastres —decía— porque he sido una
tonta. Pero ahora..., ¡oh!, ahora, yo me juro a mí misma que moriré o
he de atraparle... Iré a Cádiz.»
Cuando esto decía, finalizaba julio y la temperatura de Sevilla era
irresistible. El médico me ordenó que buscase en la costa aires más
templados.
Los franceses se habían establecido ya en Sevilla, donde reinaba
un orden perfecto. En toda España, y principalmente en algunos
puntos privilegiados de la tragedia, como Manresa y la Coruña, corría
la sangre a raudales. Los dos furibundos partidos se herían
mutuamente con impía crueldad. Pero los ejércitos de ambas naciones
no habían empeñado ninguna lucha verdaderamente marcial y
grandiosa. El nuestro se desbandaba como un rebaño sin pastores, y
el francés iba ocupando las ciudades desguarnecidas y dominando
todo el país sin trabajo y sin heroísmo, sin sangre y sin gloria. Sus
victorias eran ramplonas y honradas; su proceder dentro de los
pueblos, templado y noble. Era aquel ejército como su jefe, leal y sin
genio; un ejército apreciable, compuesto de cien mil buenos sujetos
que no conocían el saqueo, pero tampoco la gloria. ¡Detestable suerte
la de España!... ¡Haber hecho temblar al coloso, y sucumbir ante un
hijo del conde de Artois, ante un pobre emigrado de Gante!
¡A Cádiz, a Cádiz! Estas palabras compendiaban todo m
pensamiento en aquellos días. Empecé a disponer mi viaje con gran
prisa, y a principios de agosto nada tenía que hacer ya en Sevilla.
Mi belleza recobraba al fin su esplendor. Y no era esto poco triunfo
porque me había quedado como un espectro. ¡Con cuánto alborozo
veía yo despuntar de día en día la animación, la gracia, la frescura, la
viveza, todos los encantos de mi fisonomía, que iban mostrándose
como flores que se abren al cariñoso amor del sol! Yo no cesaba de
mirarme al espejo para observar los progresos de mi restauración, y
casi, casi estoy por decir que me encontraba más guapa que antes de
mi enfermedad. Perdóneseme este orgullo vano; pero si Dios me hizo
así, si me dio hermosura y gracias, ¿por qué no he de decirlo para que
lo sepan los que no tuvieron la dicha de conocerme?
El conde de Montguyon se me presentó en el momento de parti
para Cádiz. ¡Oh, feliz encuentro! Mi don Quijote, que había sido
ascendido a jefe de brigada, me acompañó en casi todo el camino de
Sevilla a la costa, mostrándose en extremo orgulloso por creer próximo
el momento de mi definitiva conquista, y yo cuidaba no poco de
confirmarle en esta creencia, porque quería tenerle muy dispuesto a
servirme en negocios difíciles. Hablamos también de política y de la
Ordenanza de Andújar, en que Su Alteza recomendaba la mayo
templanza a los absolutistas, habiéndoles disgustado por esto. Pero e
tema más agradable a mi caballero era el amor.
Según se expresaba, su bello ideal estaba a punto de realizarse. E
país ardiente, el territorio pintoresco, la dama hermosa, nada faltaba
para que la leyenda fuese completa. Pero yo, esmerándome en
fomentar sus esperanzas, era sumamente avara de concesiones. M
Ordenanza de Andújar prescribía también la moderación. Ya me había
yo instalado en el Puerto cuando, apremiada por el conde, le revelé la
causa de mis ardientes deseos de penetrar en Cádiz.
—Un hombre —le dije— que antes poseía mi confianza
administrando los bienes de mi casa; un mayordomo que supo
servirme algún tiempo lealmente para engañarme después con más
seguridad, huyó de Madrid, robándome gran cantidad de dinero
muchas alhajas de valor y documentos preciosos. Ese hombre está en
Cádiz...
—Pero en Cádiz hay tribunales de justicia, hay autoridades...
—En Cádiz no hay más que un gobierno moribundo, que para
prolongar su vida entre agonías se rodea de todos los pillos.

Street Art of Resistance 1St Ed 2017 Edition Sarah H Awad Editor All Chapter

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Street Art of Resistance 1St Ed 2017 Edition Sarah H Awad Editor All Chapter

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Street Art of Resistance 1st ed.

More information about this series at

Palgrave Studies in Creativity and Culture

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017964491

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2017

Cover illustration: Artwork by .frA* / www.instagram.com/essegeefra / #essegeefra

Printed on acid-free paper

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by Springer Nature

I ntroducing the Street Art of Resistance 1

Part I Theories of Aesthetics, Resistance and Social Change 17

 rt and Social Change: The Role of Creativity and Wonder 19

 ubjectivity, Aesthetics, and the Nexus of Injustice:

 esisting Forms: Prolegomena to an Aesthetics of Resistance 63

Part II Image Circulation and Politics 85

I ndigenous Images of Democracy on City Streets:

 he Resistance Passed Through Here: Arabic Graffiti

 he Arabic Language as Creative Resistance 155

Part III Urban Space: The City as an Extension of Self 177

 peaking Walls: Contentious Memories in Belfast’s Murals 179

I nventive ReXistence: Notes on Brazil Graffiti and City

 mbodied Walls and Extended Skins: Exploring Mental

I ndigenous Graffiti and Street Art as Resistance 251

Part IV Artists and Social Movements 275

 epresentations of Resistance: Ironic Iconography in

 he Democratic Potential of Artistic Expression in

The Aesthetics of Social Movements in Spain 325

 heherazade Says No: Artful Resistance in Contemporary

Fig. 4 Gigi (Marjorie Peñailillo), Luisa del Bosque (2012),

Fig. 3 A still from ‘The Homeland Hack’, photo courtesy of

S.H. Awad (*) • B. Wagoner

© The Author(s) 2017 1

We will start the introduction of the book with a case example of a

 evolutionary Graffiti in Egypt:

election. The mural is significant in a number of ways, each of which

A regime fearing a paint brush and a pen

Finally, it is the nature of street art to be transitory. The above mural

Social Life of Images

The Symbolic Nature of Images

Images are interpreted here from a psychological understanding of

t­ ransformed by individuals. Through symbols human beings are in a con-

Social Actors and Dialogue

Context is a complex notion that involves social-cultural factors, the

t­horoughly described by hermeneutic philosophy: when we interpret

placement of markings on colonized space is a physical symbolic act of

Central to the study of images in the public sphere, especially urban

On the Multiple Forms of Art and Resistance

r­ esistance as an act of opposing dominant representations and affirming

The Chapters to Follow

celebrates the current and past challenges to colonization posed by native

serves as a ­symbolic method of occupation, where the image stands in

Bartlett, F. C. (1924). Symbolism in folklore. In Proceedings of the VIIth interna-

communication from the American University in Cairo. Her research interests

Brady Wagoner completed his PhD in psychology at University of Cambridge

V.P. Glăveanu (*)

© The Author(s) 2017 19

social world. Creative ­activism is thus not a sub-form of social activism

The arts’ role in activism can include the communication of a movement’s

such artistic depictions of the social world are not inconsequential. On

Creativity and Social Change

as innovation rather than creativity; Anderson, Potočnik, & Zhou, 2014).

How is Street Art Creative?

were made and received by others. Of particular interest are experiences

Creativity, Perspectives, and Wonder

I ntroducing the Street Art of Resistance 1

Part I Theories of Aesthetics, Resistance and Social Change 17

rt and Social Change: The Role of Creativity and Wonder 19

ubjectivity, Aesthetics, and the Nexus of Injustice:

esisting Forms: Prolegomena to an Aesthetics of Resistance 63

Part II Image Circulation and Politics 85

I ndigenous Images of Democracy on City Streets:

he Resistance Passed Through Here: Arabic Graffiti

he Arabic Language as Creative Resistance 155

Part III Urban Space: The City as an Extension of Self 177

peaking Walls: Contentious Memories in Belfast’s Murals 179

I nventive ReXistence: Notes on Brazil Graffiti and City

mbodied Walls and Extended Skins: Exploring Mental

I ndigenous Graffiti and Street Art as Resistance 251

Part IV Artists and Social Movements 275

epresentations of Resistance: Ironic Iconography in

he Democratic Potential of Artistic Expression in

The Aesthetics of Social Movements in Spain 325

heherazade Says No: Artful Resistance in Contemporary

evolutionary Graffiti in Egypt:

Social Life of Images

The Symbolic Nature of Images

t ransformed by individuals. Through symbols human beings are in a con-

Social Actors and Dialogue

thoroughly described by hermeneutic philosophy: when we interpret

On the Multiple Forms of Art and Resistance

r esistance as an act of opposing dominant representations and affirming

The Chapters to Follow

serves as a symbolic method of occupation, where the image stands in

social world. Creative activism is thus not a sub-form of social activism

Creativity and Social Change

How is Street Art Creative?

Creativity, Perspectives, and Wonder

Social Change, Art, and Collective Wonder