I'm taking you now to the Cuban Art Factory - FAC - Fábrica de Arte Cubano. That’s where I got some bananas ( 😀 look at my last post). And —as I mentioned to elbuhito in a comment— the yellow also reminds me of mangoes… because we’re deep into mango season… maybe, maybe…
Funny coincidence how those over there are eating mangoes too.
Oh, you better believe it—I’m a dangerous eye! Anyone who falls within my line of sight gets a photo as a keepsake.
AU!
I just love her glamour! 😐 But riding an electric bike in heels is a bit uncomfortable, isn’t it?
I picked a spot across the street to settle in with my 45–200 mm lens and be a bit nosy without anyone noticing… well, I’m not sure. I was simply doing my job as a street photographer, and believe me, the place is spectacular for capturing its essence and good vibes. It’s as if the walls cling to your body… maybe. Or the walls suddenly strike up a conversation with those who pause there or pass by. There’s a bus stop, and why not take advantage of...
the beach umbrella! 😎
"Don’t swim in the Malecón because there’s a shark in the water…" sang Farah María in one of her songs. I remembered that while writing—such a tune, loved by everyone many years ago… We’re not at the Malecón now, but it seems sharks rather like this stretch of beach too, hahaha… where anyone can pitch a beach umbrella and use their phone.
Imagination runs so wild here, you might even see sharks hanging from the power lines.
No, we won’t step into that world of art today—the one where every kind of artistic expression finds its perfect space and its audience. Maybe we’ll do that another time. I’ve just come to take you for a walk past the kind of art that seems to sing, dance, and speak from its outer walls. There are so many scenes, you could write a whole chapter of a book about each one.
There are plenty of references to cartoon characters, even scenes that might be recreations from Cuban literature. So, if you ever feel inspired to write a book, it would be an intertextuality within another intertextuality, within yet another... and so on, endlessly. You could write poems as well, why not?
I like to describe this walls, too, as urban palimpsests: layers upon layers of visual storytelling.
There were some huge paintings hung higher up. But I only managed to photograph two from where I was standing. To be honest, since I was on my bike, I couldn’t be bothered to move. I was keeping an eye on the bike. I’d leaned it between a fence and an electricity pole that I used for keep it stand.
The painting I’m showing you was done by an artist who goes by the name Raupa. I remember him from many, many years ago, as he was a close friend and creative collaborator of a very, very close friend of mine—so I met him in person. I remember him as a cheerful, genuinely nice guy. He graduated in graphic design.
Take a look—they were all part of a design collective back then called Camaleón.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/C8VxHB4tQik/ - That was one of those exhibitions where people were simply “not ready for that much” ;) Haha... they’ve always been so creative.
A guy on a bike was a must. His backpack completes the devil painting… Look at the little horns—and let your mind drift. What else do you see? He’s got an earbud in his left ear—hopefully a bus didn’t crush it that day…
Look closely—notice how the painting on the wall resembles him, just like in that earlier photo, where the woman in high heels on her electric bike is mirrored by a painting on the wall that looks like her. Tell me, do you get the same impression? 🤔
Careful what you say—if you disagree, that knife might just peel itself off the wall and fly straight at you... hahahahahaha!
This man found a way to escape all that madness… there he is, looking completely worn out.
😁
It was starting to get a bit intense, but I had a certain kind of protection—let’s say, being the photographer gave me... immunity.
If you’re looking for an answer, it might just be hidden in these walls… who knows. But before stepping into this world of whispers and soliloquies, you need to be mentally prepared. The numbers I saw that day—and the closed doors—led me here.
Do you see a gnome? 😛
Lost there, adrift among so many musings… or perhaps none at all. I no longer even know, for I’ve forgotten what I dreamt only hours ago—it was intense, and I know it mattered. I asked for clues to find Filomena. But now, I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore... there are so many colours, they’re starting to cloud my thoughts, and maybe it’s better if we head elsewhere.
There was still so much left to photograph… I don’t know if you enjoyed this walk. I hope you did, and that you were able to take something from all these whispers of the city.
La F de FAC. 😎
Bye.
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