Streeter: The decision to keep a Mount Vernon mural is a victory for art, free speech and peace

Olive branches are generally considered a positive thing. They’re about peace and reconciliation. But this week, a huge depiction of dramatic green fruit, branches and leaves, set off by an intriguing swath of Arabic, was front and center in a debate about art and historical preservation.

The image, from a contested Mount Vernon mural, was at the heart of a decision entwining two of my favorite things: free speech and art. The former is how I make my living, and the latter is what I live for. And when the gavel came down, free speech and art won the day. Huzzah.

“I hope this emboldens more people to make art,” said a relieved Joseph Orzal, of art collective NoMüNoMü. He and street artist Gaia won retroactive approval from Baltimore’s Commission for Historical and Architectural Preservation for the mural on the side of a home at 902 Tyson St. in Mount Vernon.

The piece, which Orzal’s group commissioned Gaia to paint, depicts those olives, accented with James Baldwin’s epic quote “Every bombed village is my hometown” in swirling color in Arabic and English. It’s the first of 78 cultural acts planned around the world to bring more attention to the plight of Palestinians, Orzal told me before the commission hearing.

Work on the piece was ordered to stop after members of the Mount Vernon-Belvedere Association objected. Orzal had not gotten permission from the commission before the painting started, for which he apologized in his remarks.

But he and Gaia asked the commission to reconsider, supported by more than a dozen current and former residents, business owners and patrons in the area. Many testified that the art improved the neighborhood. “I think the mural is beautiful,” resident Megan Lizambri said.

So do I. I love public art, and I’m relieved the mural gets to stay because we need more lovely, positive things to look at in this city, not fewer. Frequent readers of this column might think that’s a little hypocritical, as I recently celebrated the disappearance of Confederate statues, which are also public art.

The difference is that those figures were erected to celebrate the so-called glory of people who owned humans and fought to keep them. The Mount Vernon mural, however, was painted to convey peace and solidarity with those who live across the planet. To me, it’s not political to say you shouldn’t drop bombs on people.

“This is true democracy,” said Gaia, who was sick on his couch at home but followed the hearing online. “The angry parties get their two-and-a-half minutes to make their argument, and all sorts of people come to state their feelings about the piece.” The commission’s decision allows him to complete the mural, which is almost finished.

The commission found that the approval could be granted because the mural’s size and location were within its guidelines. It had been painted on a party wall, or a shared wall between the house and another rowhome that had been demolished. Also, the wall had previously been painted and had no significant historic architectural features.

Before the mural went up, the space was “just a dirty white wall with graffiti on it,” Orzal said. Paint had been thrown up to cover the graffiti, followed by even more graffiti — rinse and repeat.

Scott Ponemone, chair of the Mount Vernon-Belvedere Association’s architectural committee, was the only opponent present, although others had written letters to the Commission for Historical and Architectural Preservation confirming their objection. Their position was that permission had not been sought, that the writing turned the side of the building into a billboard, and that retroactive approval would set a bad precedent “that makes it unnecessary to have to apply.” I’m glad the mural was approved, but I do see their point on that one.

No one else thought the Baldwin quote rose to the level of advertising, including me. But what’s interesting is that neither the commission nor the community association argued, at least verbally, about the mural’s meaning, although its supporters are very clear about it.

In her remarks, Lizambri said the helplessness and grief of watching what’s happening in Palestine is “heartbreaking,” and that the mural “serves as a reminder that other people in our community are feeling that grief, too.”

Good art makes you feel something, whether beautiful or disturbing. This mural is a beautiful reminder of painful things and how we all connect to each other.

“Art can bring calm,” said Akiva Scherer, a former resident of the house the mural is on, who now lives in Baltimore County. “Art makes you look up from your phone and breathe. That’s what the mural asks you to do.”

She’s right. There are so many excellent things created in our city to look at, to consider, and to enjoy amid the sirens and noise we’ve created. Some of them are historic buildings, and others, like the olives of Mount Vernon, are created to make an ugly, struggling thing new. And maybe, as with this art, we can bring light to ugly struggles elsewhere.