Street Art for Hope and Peace | eL Seed | TED Talks

Translator: Kristaps Kadiķis Reviewer: Ilze Garda

In 2012, when I painted the minaret of Jara Mosque

2012. gadā, kad apgleznoju Žaras mošejas minaretu

in my hometown of Gabés, in the south of Tunisia,

savā dzimtajā Gabesā, uz dienvidiem no Tunisijas,

I never thought that graffiti would bring so much attention to a city.

nekad neiedomājos, ka grafiti pilsētai pievērsīs tik lielu uzmanību.

At the beginning, I was just looking for a wall in my hometown,

Sākumā es savā dzimtajā pilsētā vienkārši meklēju sienu,

and it happened that the minaret was built in '94.

un tā sagadījās, ka minaretu uzcēla 1994. gadā,

And for 18 years, those 57 meters of concrete stayed grey.

un 18 gadus šie 57 betona metri bija un palika pelēki.

When I met the imam for the first time, and I told him what I wanted to do,

Pirmo reizi satiekot imāmu un izstāstot viņam par iecerēto,

he was like, "Thank God you finally came,"

viņš noteica: „Paldies Dievam, tu beidzot atnāci.”

and he told me that for years he was waiting for somebody

Viņš pastāstīja, ka gadiem ilgi gaidījis, ka kāds uz tās kaut ko pasāks.

to do something on it.

The most amazing thing about this imam is that he didn't ask me anything --

Apbrīnojamākais, ka šis imāms man neko nejautāja –

neither a sketch, or what I was going to write.

nedz uzmetumu, nedz arī to, ko rakstīšu.

In every work that I create, I write messages

Visos savos darbos es rakstu vēstis savā kaligrafiti stilā –

with my style of calligraffiti -- a mix of calligraphy and graffiti.

kaligrāfijas un grafiti sajaukumā.

I use quotes or poetry.

Es izmantoju citātus vai dzeju.

For the minaret, I thought that the most relevant message

Runājot par minaretu, man šķita,

ka mošejai vispiemērotākā būtu kāda vēsts no Korāna,

to be put on a mosque should come from the Quran,

so I picked this verse:

tāpēc izvēlējos šo pantu:

"Oh humankind, we have created you from a male and a female,

„Ak, cilvēce, esam tevi radījuši no vīrieša un sievietes

and made you people and tribe, so you may know each other."

un sadalījuši tevi tautās un ciltīs, lai jūs viens otru iepazītu.”

It was a universal call for peace, tolerance, and acceptance

Tas bija vispārējs miera, iecietības un pieņemšanas aicinājums,

coming from the side that we don't usually portray in a good way in the media.

nākošs no puses, ko plašsaziņas līdzekļos parasti neataino labā gaismā.

I was amazed to see how the local community reacted to the painting,

Biju pārsteigts, kā uz gleznojumu reaģēja vietējā kopiena

and how it made them proud to see the minaret getting so much attention

un kā viņos viesa lepnumu lielā uzmanība, ko saņēma minarets

from international press all around the world.

no starptautiskās preses visā pasaulē.

For the imam, it was not just the painting;

Imāmam tas nebija tikai gleznojums,

it was really deeper than that.

bet gan kas daudz vairāk.

He hoped that this minaret would become a monument for the city,

Viņš cerēja, ka minarets kļūs par pilsētas pieminekli

and attract people to this forgotten place of Tunisia.

un piesaistīs cilvēkus šai aizmirstajai Tunisijas vietai.

The universality of the message,

Vēsts vispārējums,

the political context of Tunisia at this time,

Tunisijas tā laika politiskais konteksts

and the fact that I was writing Quran in a graffiti way

un tas, ka grafiti veidā rakstīju tekstus no Korāna,

were not insignificant.

nebija mazsvarīgi.

It reunited the community.

Tas atkal apvienoja kopienas.

Bringing people, future generations,

Caur arābu kaligrāfiju satuvināt cilvēkus, nākotnes paaudzes –

together through Arabic calligraphy

is what I do.

tas ir mans darbs.

Writing messages is the essence of my artwork.

Manu mākslas darbu pamatā ir vēstījumu rakstīšana.

What is funny, actually, is that even Arabic-speaking people

Smieklīgi, ka pat arābvalodīgajiem

really need to focus a lot to decipher what I'm writing.

ļoti jāpiepūlas, lai izburtotu manis rakstīto.

You don't need to know the meaning to feel the piece.

Nav jāzina nozīme, lai izjustu mākslas darbu.

I think that Arabic script touches your soul before it reaches your eyes.

Manuprāt, arābu raksts, pirms iekrīt acīs, aizķer dvēseli.

There is a beauty in it that you don't need to translate.

Tajā ir skaistums, kas nav jāpārtulko.

Arabic script speaks to anyone, I believe;

Uzskatu, ka arābu raksts uzrunā ikvienu:

to you, to you, to you, to anybody,

tevi, tevi, tevi, ikvienu,

and then when you get the meaning,

un tad, saprotot nozīmi,

you feel connected to it.

jūti ar to saikni.

I always make sure to write messages

Es vienmēr rakstu vēstis,

that are relevant to the place where I'm painting,

kas aktuālas vietai, kur tās gleznoju,

but messages that have a universal dimension,

taču tām ir arī vispārējāka šķautne,

so anybody around the world can connect to it.

lai ikviens pasaulē ar tām varētu rast saikni.

I was born and raised in France, in Paris,

Es piedzimu un uzaugu Francijā, Parīzē,

and I started learning how to write and read Arabic when I was 18.

un 18 gadu vecumā sāku mācīties lasīt un rakstīt arābiski.

Today I only write messages in Arabic.

Šobrīd es vēstis rakstu tikai arābiski.

One of the reasons this is so important to me,

Viens no iemesliem, kāpēc man tas ir tik svarīgi,

is because of all the reaction that I've experienced all around the world.

ir visā pasaulē piedzīvotās reakcijas dēļ.

In Rio de Janeiro, I translated this Portuguese poem

Riodežaneiro es pārtulkoju

Gabriela Toresa Barbosas portugāļu dzejoli,

from Gabriela Tôrres Barbosa,

who was giving an homage to the poor people of the favela,

kurā viņš apliecina cieņu favelu nabadzīgajiem,

and then I painted it on the rooftop.

un tad uzgleznoju to uz jumta.

The local community were really intrigued by what I was doing,

Vietējo kopienu manis darītais ļoti ieinteresēja,

but as soon as I gave them the meaning of the calligraphy,

taču, tiklīdz paskaidroju viņiem šīs kaligrāfijas nozīmi,

they thanked me, as they felt connected to the piece.

viņi, sajutuši saikni ar darbu, man pateicās.

In South Africa, in Cape Town,

Dienvidāfrikā, Keiptaunā,

the local community of Philippi

vietējā filipi kopiena

offered me the only concrete wall of the slum.

piedāvāja man graustu rajona vienīgo betona mūri.

It was a school, and I wrote on it

Tā bija skola, uz kuras uzrakstīju

a quote from Nelson Mandela,

Nelsona Mandelas citātu,

saying, "[in Arabic],"

kurā teikts: „[arābiski].”

which means, "It seems impossible until it's done."

Tas nozīmē: „Tas šķiet neiespējami, iekams kāds to paveic.”

Then this guy came to me and said, "Man, why you don't write in English?"

Tad pie manis pienāca puisis un teica: „Draugs, kāpēc neraksti angliski?”

and I replied to him, "I would consider your concern legit if you asked me

Es atbildēju: „Es uzskatītu tavas bažas par pamatotām, ja tu jautātu,

why I didn't write in Zulu."

kādēļ nerakstīju to zulu.”

In Paris, once, there was this event,

Parīzē reiz bija viens pasākums,

and someone gave his wall to be painted.

kurā kāds ļāva apkrāsot savu sienu.

And when he saw I was painting in Arabic,

Pamanījis, ka rakstu arābiski,

he got so mad -- actually, hysterical -- and he asked for the wall to be erased.

viņš ļoti sadusmojās, patiesībā krita histērijā,

un pavēlēja sienu notīrīt.

I was mad and disappointed.

Es biju dusmīgs un vīlies.

But a week later, the organizer of the event asked me to come back,

Taču pēc nedēļas pasākuma rīkotājs mani ielūdza atpakaļ

and he told me that there was a wall right in front of this guy's house.

un pateica, ka šī puiša mājas pašā priekšā ir siena.

So, this guy --

Tāpēc šis puisis...

(Laughter)

(Smiekli)

like, was forced to see it every day.

ik dienu bija spiests uz to noraudzīties.

At the beginning, I was going to write, "[In Arabic],"

Sākumā grasījos rakstīt „[arābiski]”,

which means, "In your face," but --

kas nozīmē „še tev...”, taču...

(Laughter)

(Smiekli)

I decided to be smarter and I wrote, "[In Arabic],"

nolēmu būt gudrāks un uzrakstīju „[arābiski]”,

which means, "Open your heart."

kas nozīmē „atver savu sirdi”.

I'm really proud of my culture,

Es ļoti lepojos ar savu kultūru,

and I'm trying to be an ambassador of it through my artwork.

un ar saviem mākslas darbiem cenšos būt tās vēstnesis.

And I hope that I can break the stereotypes we all know,

Ceru, ka ar arābu raksta skaistumu spēšu apgāzt mums visiem zināmos stereotipus.

with the beauty of Arabic script.

Today, I don't write the translation of the message anymore on the wall.

Šobrīd es uz mūra vairs nerakstu vēsts tulkojumu.

I don't want the poetry of the calligraphy to be broken,

Es negribu izjaukt kaligrāfijas dzeju,

as it's art and you can appreciate it without knowing the meaning,

jo tā ir māksla, ko var novērtēt, arī nezinot nozīmi,

as you can enjoy any music from other countries.

gluži kā var baudīt citvalstu mūziku.

Some people see that as a rejection or a closed door,

Daži cilvēki to uztver kā atraidījumu vai slēgtas durvis,

but for me, it's more an invitation --

taču man tas drīzāk ir aicinājums –

to my language, to my culture, and to my art.

manā valodā, manā kultūrā un manā mākslā.

Thank you.

Paldies.

(Applause)

(Aplausi)