‘Spray paint is a different kind of freedom’ at Precita Youth Arts Festival

Around 1 p.m. on Saturday, a cluster of 8-by-20-foot wood panels stood blank along the western end of Precita Park, reflecting the sun. Within minutes, a stream of smiling parents, toddlers in tow, made their way among the panels, setting down crates of spray paint and greeting each other with fist bumps and hugs. 

The clack of shaking spray cans filled the air, and artists got to work. Precita Eyes Muralists’ 27th annual Urban Youth Arts Festival was in motion.

By 3 p.m., every panel was blanketed in colorful layers of graffiti, the work of local legends mingling with the impromptu sketches of six-year-olds. 

“Our first one was in 1996,” said Susan Cervantes, shielding her eyes from the bright day. Cervantes founded Precita Eyes in 1977 with her late husband, Luis, right on Precita Park.

“The first festival was inside, at the Precita Valley Community Center. We had a piñata shaped like a spray can that the teenagers could bash. It was full of markers and condoms that fell out,” she laughed. 

Back then, said Cervantes, graffiti art wasn’t tolerated. “Everybody was being criminalized,” she said.

“My kids would get in trouble for just having markers. They weren’t allowed into School of the Arts because admissions said their art looked too much like graffiti. Now, they like that kind of thing.”

Cervantes first noticed tags going up around the Mission in 1985, she said, following in the footsteps of New York graffiti artists from 10 or so years earlier. But, she said, the police wouldn’t tolerate it, and arrested the mostly Black and brown youth who were getting into it.

“We wanted to help make a place where the kids could share their ideas and art without getting judged and without getting busted. Kids would tell other kids to come through, and now it’s something we do every year for the community.”

Several panels away, a girl named Naomi, 14, painted red and black spiders alongside friends from Bayview-based community organization Us4Us. “I love Spiderman,” she said.

Damien Posey, known as Uncle Damien, founded Us4Us and is a mentor for kids all over District 10. “Naomi is a rising star artist,” he beamed. She smiled sheepishly. She might want to continue art when she starts at Rise University Prep in the fall, she said.

As she spoke, a group of five high schoolers at June Jordan School for Equity in the Excelsior walked up on a stage set up nearby. The group rapped a few songs, classmates and friends from other schools cheering them on.

“Hate it or love it, a community will be built,” said the rappers’ teacher, Mandeep Sethi, referring to graffiti. Sethi, a rapper known as SETI X, teaches music tech at June Jordan. “Graffiti and hip-hop culture will always be a community experience,” he said.

Throughout the afternoon, young local rappers and R&B artists cycled on and off the stage.

“With gentrification, the community experience gets pushed away. If people aren’t given space to express themselves, they’re going to steal paint and do it on the walls.”

At most schools, said Sethi, kids won’t get the chance to do the kind of art they can do at the festival. “Spray paint is a different kind of freedom,” Sethi smiled. 

One June Jordan senior, a tall young man named Symba, 17, walked up and greeted Sethi. 

“I love to do it,” said Symba, looking proudly at a piece he painted on a nearby panel. “It’s just fun.”

A dozen of his friends convened in the middle of the park, hoodies up and backpacks on, practicing tags and painting.

A few panels away, Marcella Ortiz alternated between spraying and chasing after her two daughters, Rosario, 1, and Amaya, 3. Growing up in the Excelsior in the ‘80s and ‘90s, she said, she loved doing graffiti.

“I started bombing when I was 14,” she said. When she was 15, she started going to the Urban Youth Arts Festival and meeting other artists. 

“It took me a minute to get out of my regular life and let my daughters see how I get down,” said Ortiz. She now works as a union electrician and doesn’t do so much panting.

“He taught me how to jump all the fences,” she said, pointing to a man standing nearby. Dno (pronounced Dino) laughed and hugged his old friend.

Now in his 40s, Dno, who grew up in Valencia Gardens, has also attended the festival since he was a young man.

“It was tougher to do graffiti back then,” he said. Dno acknowledged that as he’s gotten older, sometimes he finds himself shaking his head at youngsters.

“It becomes a knucklehead thing after a while,” he said. But it’s still a big part of his life, and he loves it.

“As a graffiti artist, you’re taking a risk, but you have the most freedom to express yourself,” said Dno. “It’s one of the last free types of art forms.”

“There’s an innocence to it. It teaches you to think outside the box in all areas. You’re exposed to free thinkers.”

Dno looked happily at Ortiz’s piece, “Slide” sprayed in a splash of neon pink and green with a small “Dno” in black along the side. Rosario played with a spray can, watching her mom finish up.

“I wanted my daughters to see my true self,” said Ortiz, scooping up Amaya and stepping back to look at the panel.