Santurce is an area that boasts a varied cultural and artistic scene. Formerly known as San Mateo de Cangrejos (St. Matthew of Crabs) and a municipality in its own right, it is now a barrio of San Juan, the capital city of Puerto Rico. If one decides to venture out to explore the area, a rich diversity of cultural offerings including museums, concerts, theaters, and cinemas, among other alternatives await. It should come as no surprise, then, that there have been different initiatives proposed to officially designate Santurce as an arts district. Notwithstanding the aforementioned wide range of artistic and cultural offerings, the first thing that will draw the attention of passersby is the overwhelming variety of public art almost everywhere one looks. Sculptures, murals, and graffiti all rise defiantly in and between common spaces, countering the abandonment and decay to which a good part of what once was one of the most important commercial hubs in Puerto Rico has fallen.

Economic activity began to decline in the area with the advent of the first shopping malls during the sixties and seventies. Most people started to prefer to do their shopping in indoor spaces with air conditioning instead of walking in the city. The heart of economic activity moved from Santurce to the Hato Rey area, forcing many small businesses to close. By the eighties and nineties, Santurce had noticeably deteriorated.

In recent years there have been some efforts to revive the area, concentrating mostly on the zone near Ponce de León Avenue, one of the main arteries of San Juan. These efforts have assumed various forms, from the development of housing, infrastructure, and commercial projects to various outdoor activities designed to draw large crowds. However, in many cases the actual result has been the displacement of entire communities, giving way to the gentrification of the areas that these efforts seek to positively impact.

Partly as a response to this outcome, initiatives have arisen from the artistic community to counteract both the abandonment of Santurce, and the appropriation of the area’s future by interests whose aims may not align with the vision of strengthening the community. These public art initiatives are key in the efforts to revitalize Santurce. Although these efforts do not necessarily originate within the Santurce community, they do enjoy its support and collaboration.

Two of the most salient examples are the urban art festivals Los Muros Hablan (The Walls Speak) and Santurce es Ley (Santurce is Law). Both festivals have managed to create ripples beyond Puerto Rico and are directly responsible for the proliferation of murals in Santurce’s public places. Both festivals feature as their main attraction the creation of murals by local and international artists on the walls of abandoned or deteriorated buildings and also include music, theatrical performances, food kiosks, and in the case of Los Muros Hablan, discussion panels. World-renowned artists have come to create murals for these festivals, leaving their works for all to see on the walls of buildings throughout the area.

Santurce es Ley got its start as the idea of artist Alexis Busquet, owner of the gallery Clandestino 787, as his contribution to the revival of Santurce. In 2013 the festival celebrated its fourth edition with great success, incorporating Puerto Rican artists along with artists that hailed from countries such as the United States, the Dominican Republic, Peru, Portugal, and Ukraine. But what is truly genius about Santurce es Ley is that it was held in one of the most ignored streets in all of Santurce, Cerra Street, thus becoming a real force for change in the community. Residents of the area welcomed the festival, inspiring them to continue their efforts to try and improve the neighborhood’s quality of life, which in its heyday occupied a prominent place in Puerto Rico’s music industry as a record production center.

Los Muros Hablan is a particularly successful case. Its goal is similar to Santurce es Ley, but differs from it in that there is now an iteration of the festival in El Barrio in New York. The New York version of the festival is organized jointly by La Respuesta (a cultural space on Fernández Juncos Avenue in Santurce where different alternative artistic and indie currents converge) and El Museo del Barrio in New York, with support from the local city government. Like its Puerto Rican counterpart, Los Muros Hablan: New York seeks to unite local and Latin American artists in order to rescue abandoned and deteriorated public spaces.

Beyond merely being a festival, Los Muros Hablan is a manifestation of a reality that Puerto Rico is currently undergoing: the massive emigration of Puerto Ricans from the island, particularly to the United States.

Emigration waves are nothing new in the nation’s history. At the beginning of the twentieth century there was a massive emigration of Puerto Ricans to Hawaii, and later during the 1970s there was another wave, this time to cities such as New York and Chicago. However, with the amount of people that have been forced to seek better employment opportunities outside of Puerto Rico during the last ten years, it is the first time that the number of Puerto Ricans abroad is greater than the amount of Puerto Ricans living on the island.

It is not by chance that public art projects have proven to be such effective vehicles by which to build bridges between the island and the diaspora. At a time in which Puerto Rican communities are threatened by fragmentation, both at the micro and macro levels, by economic forces, public art is a powerful means by which to preserve and affirm bonds of cultural identity and social solidarity, of reclaiming the city’s public spaces and to humanize them, restoring their function as meeting places, reference points, or simply to break with the bleakness of the urban landscape. The urban planner Edwin R. Quiles expresses it the following way:

Puerto Rico tiene un gran déficit de espacios públicos. A falta de opciones recae cada vez más en la propia gente, en los grupos ciudadanos dar respuestas a sus necesidades, crear sus propios lugares. Solo el atreverse a actuar, a reclamar territorios, hará esto posible, solo la solidaridad, la concertación y la acción colectiva permitirán que se sostengan y se mejoren. Ya se ha dicho, las ciudades se hacen de muchas maneras, a veces con, a veces sin permiso, pero siempre con creatividad.

Puerto Rico has a great deficit of public spaces. Faced with a lack of options it is up to the people, to citizen groups to respond to their own necessities, create their own spaces. Only in daring to take action, to reclaim territories, will this become possible, only solidarity, common agreements, and collective action will allow communities to sustain themselves and improve. It has already been said, cities are made many different ways, sometimes with, sometimes without permission, but always with creativity.

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Santurce es un área que cuenta con una escena artística y cultural variada. Antiguamente un municipio por derecho propio conocido como San Mateo de Cangrejos, hoy día es un barrio de San Juan, ciudad capital de Puerto Rico. Quien decida aventurarse a explorarlo encontrará una rica diversidad de alternativas culturales que incluyen museos, conciertos, teatros y cines, entre otros ofrecimientos. No debe de extrañar, entonces, que hayan surgido distintas iniciativas para designar oficialmente a Santurce como distrito de las artes.  Pero antes que cualquiera de las manifestaciones artísticas mencionadas, lo primero que llamará la atención del transeúnte es la abrumadora variedad de arte público casi dondequiera que se pose la vista. Esculturas, murales y grafiti se erigen rebeldes en(tre) los espacios comunes, llevándole la contraria a la dejadez y al deterioro que sufre buena parte de lo que una vez fue uno de los distritos comerciales más importantes de Puerto Rico.

La actividad económica de la zona comenzó a decaer con el advenimiento de los centros comerciales (shopping malls) en las décadas de los sesenta y setenta, prefiriendo la gente hacer sus compras en espacios cerrados bajo techo con aire acondicionado en lugar de caminar en la ciudad. El corazón de la actividad económica se movió de Santurce a la zona de Hato Rey, obligando a muchos pequeños comerciantes a cerrar operaciones. Ya para las décadas de los ochenta y noventa el deterioro en Santurce era evidente.

En los últimos años se han dado algunos esfuerzos para revitalizar la zona, concentrándose mayormente en las áreas aledañas a una de las arterias principales de San Juan, la Avenida Ponce de León. Estos esfuerzos han tomado varias formas, desde el desarrollo de proyectos de vivienda, infraestructura y comercio hasta actividades multitudinarias al aire libre. Sin embargo, el efecto real en muchos casos ha sido la eliminación de comunidades enteras, dando paso al aburguesamiento (gentrification) de las áreas que buscan impactar.

En parte como respuesta a esto, han surgido iniciativas desde la comunidad artística para contrarrestar tanto el abandono de Santurce, como la apropiación del futuro de la zona por intereses cuyo fin principal no es necesariamente ayudar a las comunidades del área. Estas iniciativas de arte público son clave para el esfuerzo de revitalizar a Santurce. Aunque no son necesariamente iniciativas gestionadas por miembros de la comunidad santurcina, cuentan con el apoyo y la participación de ella.

Dos de los ejemplos más exitosos son los festivales de arte urbano Los Muros Hablan y Santurce es Ley. Ambos festivales han logrado repercutir más allá de las fronteras nacionales y son directamente responsables de la proliferación del muralismo en los lugares públicos en Santurce. Los dos festivales tienen como atracción principal la creación de murales por artistas locales y del exterior en paredes de edificios deteriorados o abandonados, e incluyen también música, representaciones teatrales, quioscos de comida y paneles de discusión en el caso de Los Muros Hablan. Artistas del muralismo internacionalmente reconocidos han participado de los festivales, dejando sus obras en las paredes de edificios de toda el área.

Santurce es Ley comenzó como una idea del artista Alexis Busquet, dueño del espacio Clandestino 787, para contribuir a mejorar Santurce. En 2013 el festival celebró con mucho éxito su cuarta edición, incorporando a artistas puertorriqueños y a artistas provenientes de países tales como los Estados Unidos, la República Dominicana, Perú, Portugal y Ucrania. Pero lo verdaderamente genial de Santurce es Ley es que se llevó a cabo en una de las calles más ignoradas de Santurce, la Calle Cerra, convirtiéndose así en un agente de cambio real para la comunidad. La acogida entre los residentes del área fue sumamente buena, inspirándolos a continuar esforzándose por mejorar la calidad de vida en su vecindario, el cual en su momento llegó a ocupar un lugar prominente en la industria musical de Puerto Rico como centro de producción disquera.

Los Muros Hablan ha sido un caso particularmente exitoso. Su fin es similar al de Santurce es Ley, pero se diferencia de aquel en que también se comenzó a celebrar el festival en el vecindario de El Barrio en la ciudad de Nueva York. La encarnación neoyorkina de Los Muros Hablan es organizada conjuntamente por La Respuesta (un espacio cultural en la avenida Fernández Juncos en Santurce donde convergen distintas corrientes artísticas alternativas y de la escena indie) y El Museo del Barrio en Nueva York, con apoyo del gobierno local de la ciudad. Al igual que su contraparte puertorriqueña, Los Muros Hablan: New York busca reunir artistas locales y latinoamericanos para rescatar espacios públicos perdidos y deteriorados.

Más allá de ser meramente un festival, Los Muros Hablan es el reflejo de una realidad que Puerto Rico vive actualmente: la emigración masiva de puertorriqueños hacia el exterior, particularmente hacia los Estados Unidos.

Las olas de emigración no son nada nuevo en la historia del país. A principios del siglo XX se dio una emigración masiva de puertorriqueños hacia Hawái, y luego en la década de los setenta se dio otra hacia ciudades como Nueva York y Chicago. Sin embargo, con la cantidad de gente que se ha ido en los últimos diez años en busca de oportunidades de empleo, es la primera vez que el número de puertorriqueños en el exterior sobrepasa el número de puertorriqueños en la Isla.

No es casualidad que los proyectos de arte público sean un vehículo tan efectivo para tender puentes entre la Isla y la diáspora. En momentos en que las comunidades puertorriqueñas son amenazadas por la fragmentación, tanto a nivel micro como macro, por fuerzas de índole económica, el arte público es un medio poderoso para conservar y estrechar lazos de identidad cultural y de solidaridad social, de retomar los espacios de la ciudad y humanizarlos, devolviéndole su función de servir como lugares de encuentro, puntos de referencia o sencillamente romper con la banalidad del entorno urbano. El urbanista Edwin R. Quiles Rodríguez lo expresa de la siguiente manera:

Puerto Rico tiene un gran déficit de espacios públicos. A falta de opciones recae cada vez más en la propia gente, en los grupos ciudadanos dar respuestas a sus necesidades, crear sus propios lugares. Solo el atreverse a actuar, a reclamar territorios, hará esto posible, solo la solidaridad, la concertación y la acción colectiva permitirán que se sostengan y se mejoren. Ya se ha dicho, las ciudades se hacen de muchas maneras, a veces con, a veces sin permiso, pero siempre con creatividad.

 

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While academe was certainly never immune to exclusions and privilege, it has also long sought to be regarded as a meritocracy in which “the cream rises to the top.” The pervasiveness of this mentality, in which systemic failure is often assimilated as personal inadequacy, has frequently impeded vital discussions on the fractures within academia. The realities of disparate access to tools of research and cultural production (books, journals, search engines, arts materials, institutional support), according to one’s rank and institution, longstanding difficulties in implementing work-life balance, and the ways in which individual identity is imbricated with one’s standing in a chosen field creates a self perpetuating hierarchy unknown to most outside of higher education. Simultaneously, this inaccessibility of a quality education in many places remains intertwined with the intersection of race and class, failing to provide a means of entry—to both knowledge and opportunity – to populations that most need it. While a typical student is unlikely to recognize or understand the difference between a “Professor” and an “Instructor,” the reality of those distinctions is likely to manifest itself in the time the faculty member is able to spend on teaching and advising, activities that are most crucial to student development. The unfortunate truth is that students may be obtaining an education from a skilled work force that is all too frequently struggling to make ends meet.

Such inequities were always freely recognized in (post)colonial societies, where access to papers behind a journal pay wall or to conferences held in major European or North American centers have long presented a barrier to prominent visibility or achieving diffusion of research. Particularly and most ironically for (post)colonial or subaltern studies, critical debates have often elided or marginalized those they intend to speak of. These dialogues can and often do fail to engage with vital voices whose subject-positions may not be neatly defined within a discursive paradigm. Similar disparities are only recently being recognized as also true across disciplines in the United States, as contingent academic labor becomes a prominent topic, the practices of academic publishing and author rights become cause for increasing alarm, and all forms of knowledge not immediately translating to quantifiable “value” are subjected to suspicion and ridicule – or eliminated altogether.

Nicholas Kristof’s recent editorial, “Bridging the Moat Around Universities,” hits upon the zeitgeist of the moment, as there is general consensus that something is broken, yet he misses many of the structural components that support the distant and disengaged academic body he describes. He also overlooks positive, potentially disruptive elements that are driving change such as the many (primarily digital) efforts being furthered by young and contingent faculty and their tenured allies, or the rising tide of highly capable and educated individuals choosing to leave academe to broaden the conversations around higher education. Indeed, it is in this place of structural fracture that fruitful discourse and knowledge not only survives, but may thrive. Social media and independent publications not only allow but encourage voices that have been marginalized to move from the periphery to the center, and to transcend what may otherwise have been insurmountable structural confines.

It is as a response to this crossroads in academe, and in recognition of and in solidarity with the many engaged academics attempting to build bridges to systems and structures outside of the academy, that The Postcolonialist was created. We seek to create a global, digital space in which the boundaries and constructs of (post)coloniality, as a thought tradition and geographical and historical category, may be deepened and questioned. Moreover, given issues of scholarly access, a greater need for inter-disciplinarity, and fluid disciplinary landscapes, The Postcolonialist endeavors to shift the geography and epistemological direction of critical thought in a way that empowers (de)colonial and broad thinking within academe and far beyond. By featuring peer reviewed work in English, French, Spanish, and Portuguese from across the world (with a particular focus on voices that speak from and of (post)colonial regions), alongside cultural production and analysis in other genres, we aim to provide an open access platform that broadens the scope and reach of academic research, creating vital integration and collaboration with the journalists, artists, writers, and policy makers who impact postcolonial societies. There is a need, and a responsibility, to foster dynamic public intellectual work that supports, furthers, and questions the role of civil society and open debate.

There are many engaged scholars, journalists, artists, and writers validating and (re)claiming the humanities as both public and human. We must support and continue to value—critically, intellectually, and ethically—the contributions of those who work to foster knowledge both within and outside academe. By creating avenues of access and collaboration and by deploying critical thought in alternate, public spaces, we support the role of scholarship and cultural production as integral to and indeed constitutive of societies of the future.

Lara Dotson-Renta
Editor-in-Chief

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