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Each symbol in the colorful new mural on the side of La Sirenita restaurant begs a story--just like the painting project itself. As far as anyone can tell, the new painting on Northeast Alberta Street is Portland's first Chicana mural; it depicts a modern-day female Mexican revolutionary. Although the dedication for the artwork Saturday is expected to go smoothly, the mural's creators--social workers Rosina Catalano and Edward Beánes and their youth group, Si Se Puedo ("Yes We Can")--say the project has been anything but seamless. First there were funding problems, then questions arose over the mural's lack of "diversity," and now there's a fear that "Maria y Libertad," as the mural is named, will be painted over, because the tacqueria was listed for sale last month. "When Edward said, 'Let's do a mural,' I said, 'Sure, why not? It'll be great,'" Catalano recalls. "Famous last words," she adds, laughing. It's not that Catalano, 31, lacked experience painting murals. Before moving to Portland two years ago from Tucson, Ariz., Catalano says she had worked on eight Chicano murals directed by well-known Latino artists. Her artistic partner, Edward Beánes, 33, had never directed a large mural project before but had grown up around them. "In East Los Angeles we have hundreds of these," he says. "People want to get together and dress the community up. At the same time, they want to send messages to the people: to keep going, to keep the kids in school...whatever." Beánes and Catalano both wanted to paint a Chicana mural in Portland because they hoped to recreate something from the communities they had left behind. They also needed an educational and inspirational project for the teens at FamilyWorks, the Lutheran social-services agency that hosts Si Se Puedo. Around the same time, Beánes had also met Latino principal Edgar Lampkin, who offered the group wall space at his school, Shaver Elementary in the Parkrose District. Then came the money: The Portland Parks and Recreation Department approved a $5,000 youth development grant last March. Soon, however, the project started to unravel. Suffering from a budget reduced by measures 47 and 50, the city scaled the grant back to $2,000. Then Catalano and Beánes hit a second snag. Lampkin left Portland to return to California, where, according to Beánes, Latino educators get more support. Catalano says the new principal, Tom Klansic, would agree only to a mural equally representing all races attending Shaver Elementary. It's typical of Portland's penchant for inclusiveness, but inappropriate for a mural aimed at empowering young Latinos and Latinas. "This was supposed to be a mural focused on being a Chicana," says Catalano. After that snub, Catalano says she and the students from Si Se Puedo started soliciting owners of businesses along Northeast Alberta Street for wall space. Almost immediately, Catalano says, she got a call back from building owner Richard Sanchez, a man who had been a pachuco, or zoot suiter, in East Los Angeles during the 1940s. "We told him what we wanted to do," says Catalano. "He said, 'Fine, you just do whatever you want on my wall.' He was skeptical at first that we would get anything done." By September, however, the group had blocked out the pattern and was out painting several afternoons a week and nearly every weekend. Catalano says almost everyone in the neighborhood supported the project, with the exception of an elderly woman who lives next door. "She told us, 'It's horrible. Why do you people have to paint such ugly things? It's just like those black murals. Why can't you people paint something happy?'" says Catalano. Catalano says Si Se Puedo and the neighbor have since reached a cool detente as work has continued on the mural. Last weekend, as the group put the finishing touches on the painting in 40-degree weather, several onlookers stopped to ask about its meaning. In response, the students, who have take to calling themselves the "Brown Angels" and "Tres Panchitos Productions," rattled off events and characters in the Chicano movement. The black and red eagles, for example, represent the United Farm Workers, a union of migrant farm workers organized by Cesar Chavez in the 1960s. The god and goddess, the pyramid and the calendar are Mayan and Aztec symbols. The angry-looking man is a Brown Beret, a Chicano protector from 1970s Los Angeles. In the center of the mural is Maria y Libertad, a modern representation of Adelita, a Mexican revolutionary. Her chest bears a heart symbolizing Christ's immaculate conception, her wings are the Mexican flag and around her hands are broken chains. "She has broken chains because we're not meant to be housekeepers," says Silvia Toscano, 16, who came to Portland from Guatemala with her family about five years ago. "She looks like we want her to look. Everything is there because we want it to be." "[Latina women] are independent now," adds Griselda Jacinto, 14. "We're working. We're educated. We have businesses. It's not like before when the guys were keeping us in." At one point, Arturo Jacinto, 16, even stopped to give a brief lecture on feminism to two older white men, both native Oregonians. "It's good to notice the woman," says Jacinto, referring to the mural's central character, Maria y Libertad. "They don't notice the Brown Beret guy much. Usually they just say, 'Nice colors.'" The real test, however, is how the building's new owner will like the colors. Although Sanchez promised he would try to insert a clause in the sale contract protecting the mural, Catalano still worries. "You never know," she says. The group, however, got some good news last weekend. Jose Moreno, who rents the space from Sanchez, says he plans this summer to move his restaurant a few blocks down the street. When he does, he wants the group to paint another mural--this time of the heroes of Mexico. Paint for the mural was "oops paint"--leftover paint donated by Home Depot. |
