who’s the hood?
Government administrations, institutions, local councils... when they organise a cultural act, they like to talk the talk, but they then often fall flat on their faces. Every now and again, because it’s of political benefit to them or even just for the hell of it, whoever’s in charge of the purse strings for local culture throws together something on a whim, and gets all of the local media behind it. A blast of modernist air. The need to connect with the “hood”. And so when a famous photographer comes along, all the would-be local “driving forces” get naked in a public space, or when they all get together in their open check shirts and spread their tablecloths to have some kind of alternative picnic in a the local park accompanied by the music of some indie-pop band, or even the following day when the local papers are of full of local police-protected graffiti, the result of an official competition, well, it’s all cool.

But if any weird-sounding bearded foreigner on any given day rides a bicycle naked through the streets of town, or when an Ecuadorian family heads off down to the park for lunch accompanied by the sounds of reggaeton and cumbia, or even when a bunch of graffiti artists get their spray out without going through any official filter, well, that’s when those in power, the local police and media decide that any act that doesn’t justify their wages in no longer to be considered as culture, but rather as, well, a criminal act.