The Power of Graffiti in Amman
“This doesn’t anger me; in fact, it represents the ever-changing nature of street art” Allaedin says calmly with a wide smile across his face. I ponder his words while examining the coffee stain that drips down the wall, thrown purposefully over the face of the spray-painted figure. Her hair flows wildly, as if it were the waves of an ocean keeping afloat the origami boat, or is it an origami hat?
We are standing at the first wall of our street art tour in Amman, the dusty capital of Jordan made up of seven steep hills. Walking atop these hills, the view reveals a sea of sandstone buildings that ebb and flow to the rhythm of the land. A haze spreads across the surface of the city – a mix of heat and dust from the surrounding desert. Standing in front of this painted lady, she seems out of place amidst the aged buildings, but this contemporary art form is emerging all over Amman’s walls, and is giving a much needed to voice to the community.
“Street art is for the people from the people.” Allaedin tells us, his kind face smiling, excited to show us around his city. He wears a snapback hat and yellow, pink and blue paint-splattered jeans. The tongue of his chunky white trainers pokes up over the bottom of his jeans; hip hop style. Allaedin explains that, alongside street art, his passion is breakdancing – one of the five elements of hip hop. “It was hard to be accepted in traditional Arabic culture but, when I showed my dad, he loved my dancing”.
Graffiti, or street art, is another element of hip hop, a 1970s Afro-American creative movement built as a vehicle for social commentary and expression. Amman’s hip hop community share messages through their art that otherwise wouldn’t be talked about, focusing on issues from mental health to climate change. “There are a few things we cannot talk about in our art, the three red lines. These are politics, sexuality or nudity, and religion.” These restrictions are imposed by the government, where slandering the king or offending religious beliefs can lead to up to three years imprisonment.
Allaedin gestures to the wall, explaining that Sardine is one of the most prolific street artists in Amman. “Once you notice it, you will see it all over Amman” he says, pointing to Sardine’s tag, the white origami boat on the woman’s head. Sardine uses his art to highlight Jordan’s water problems – sitting well below the water poverty line, many Amman residents only have access to water once a week. Allaedin tells me the dead sea is drying up, and is estimated to disappear in 30 years due to climate change and filtration for farming.
“An orchestra of cars honk harmoniously, the sweet smell of flame-cooked corn wafts through crowds of people”
We continue down the road and come to a narrow staircase where art-covered walls line the stairs. Allaedin stops at a dreamlike orangey pink wall, the word ‘tam’ (translating to ‘group’) suggesting community within these walls. A cloud floats out of the orange figure’s ear, the word ‘lost’ spray-painted in bold red. “Notice there are holes where the eyes should be” Allaedin points out. This piece is by Yara Hindawi, a female artist who uses her art to speak about mental health. She often depicts children without eyes, ears and hearts to represent the lack of support in Jordanian society as Allaedin explains “Opening up about mental health is quite taboo here”.
We make our way down a wide staircase, a blanket of colourful umbrellas brightening the way. We emerge into Downtown Amman, a stark contrast to the peaceful hilltop streets we have been exploring. An orchestra of cars honk harmoniously, the sweet smell of flame-cooked corn wafts through crowds of people walking in all directions. A thick-bearded gentleman sits on the steps of his carpet shop, watching the midday bustle. We are back where we began, but my view of Jordan has changed. More than just desert, camels and mosques; this traditional Arabic country is embracing the influence of hip hop. Touching on taboo topics through graffiti is allowing this community of artists to give a voice to the people.
I thank Allaedin for showing us his city, but see he is distracted with something behind me. I follow his eyeline to the top of the sandy building next to us where I notice a white origami boat, Sardine’s tag. This community really is leaving their mark all over Amman.
