The Art of Planning - Columbia University Graduate School of ...

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The children’s piece is one among dozens of murals
that confront you with its immediacy. Another mural
emphasizes the global aspect of the HIV/AIDS
epidemic, a disease that first made headlines in
the United States in cities like San Francisco. This
mural brings attention to HIV/AIDS-inflicted Africa.
An excerpt from William Butler Yeats’ The Second
Coming, published in 1921, captions the piece:
“THINGS FALL APART/THE CENTER CANNOT
HOLD/MERE ANARCHY IS LOOSED UPON THE
WORLD.” Political discourse, racial conflict, and
community memory are here, portrayed on the walls
around you, demanding that you become engaged.
Balmy Alley’s mural collection also includes
Indigenous Eyes that watch over the neighborhood
(and your reaction to the artwork!) from within a
lush mountain-ringed landscape, at least until the
garage door upon which the scene is set opens, and the eyes retract. 500 Years of Native
Resistance is depicted on another nearby garage and 500 Years of Rebellion blankets two
sides of a Roman Catholic Church. Native Resistance, like so many other pieces in the
neighborhood, is not, however, resistant to weather and is showing the signs of exposure
to San Francisco’s climate conditions—bright sunlight, damp fog, and torrential winter
rains. The artwork is also not resistant to neighborhood change and the looming threat of
gentrification.
These murals are vulnerable and impermanent. They are painted in tempera on any
available surface at the consent of private property owners. A New York Times article from
March of this year wrote “a neighborhood is a gallery, [and] it’s brick walls canvases.” 1 But
if Balmy Alley were a gallery or museum, it is one that is communal, free of charge, and not
protected by security guards, curators, or a large budget. Its collection is thus vulnerable
to deterioration, decay, vandalism, and redevelopment. There are no conservators or art
buffs overseeing multi-million dollar restorations. Fortunately, some of the most damaged
murals have been touched up by members of the community and by the Precita Eyes
organization. Other works have been re-sampled, as artists incorporate them into new
murals superimposed upon the old.
Another major force affecting the fate of these murals is gentrification. The Mission
District is a far cry from what it was thirty years ago, as is most of San Francisco. This
neighborhood, with its storied history, low-rise
buildings and innate turn-of-the-last-century charm
is a destination of choice for the latest generation of
urban hipsters. Part of this neighborhood’s resilient
response to the forces of gentrification is, of course,
art. A mural placed prominently on a neighborhood
fence depicts a knife-wielding ogre, with a snake for
a second head and dollar signs for eyes, terrorizing
a flock of half-dead ducks. The ducks are being
forced to migrate away, their suitcases tucked under
wings, next to the accusation: “HOME ROBBERS.”
A few blocks away, a developer is transforming a
long-vacant apartment building into condominiums.
As the boards are peeled off of the windows, pieces
of a mural that covered the entire façade drift
away like autumn leaves. This loss is tempered by
Photograph by Kevin Leichner
a small victory, however, as what remains will be
weatherized at the developer’s expense. Not far from here, the walls surrounding the
24 th Street Mini-park are coated with murals painted by children, the new generation of
the Mission. They can admire their artwork as they play on recycled-content matting,
ride the coils of a mosaic snake and run through a push-button activated fountain.
This park is not far from the Precita Eyes Mural Arts and Visitors Center, the organization’s
headquarters, at 2981 24 th Street. In addition to its educational role, the Center also facilitates
mural painting and matches muralists to mural requests. We return to the question—is this
a museum? No, this is the fabric of a neighborhood. The Mission neighborhood gives
generously, asking for nothing but some thoughtful consideration and respect from its
patrons; there is no donation box and no museum store hawking cheap wares at the end
of your experience. This is in keeping with the Precita Eyes vision statement: “We intend to
bring art into the daily lives of people through a process which enables them to reflect their
particular concerns, joys and triumphs.” If only planners could be so inspired…
REFERENCES
1
Villano, Matt. “A Neighborhood Is a Gallery, Its Brick Walls Canvases.” New York Times, 28 March, 2007. For
more information, visit the Precita Eyes homepage at www.precitaeyes.org, or perform an online image search for
“Balmy Alley”.
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