Irmandade Vilanismo: Bringing Poetry of the Periphery into the Bienal

Above all, this last point is what mostly deeply shaped our presence at the 36th Bienal de São Paulo. More than a metaphor or simulacrum, the space stands as a promise: a call to claim the right to places of dignity, where we can create, gather, and express the many techniques, materials, and themes that move us, whether through collective action or our individual and subjective expressions. In doing so, we also make room for others who, in some way, relate to us and share these resonant desires.

In recent years, we have temporarily occupied Funarte and the Tebas Building, both in downtown São Paulo. Like hip-hop, this area is a meeting point for artists coming from the city’s outskirts and commuter towns. These studios allowed our work to circulate, but instability has forced us into an urgent—and never entirely voluntary—nomadism. We arrive, clean, restore, care for, and then move on—always working collectively, inventing ways of being and laying the groundwork for future spaces of refuge and belonging.

The metaphor of a headquarters under construction intertwines with the presence of the teleiro, a structure that, along with the map archive, will serve as infrastructure for the Irmandade after the Bienal. What begins as a parody of a studio on display becomes the studio itself—a materialization of our desire and imagination for the space we wish to build.

In this studio, we present an array of archives—videos, photographs, sketches, blueprints, books, and research material—scattered throughout the space. These are accompanied by audio recordings, photographs of members’ relatives, and small “family albums” featuring portraits of all the vilões [villians], as well as images of our community in the many actions and conspiracies of the Irmandade: from exhibitions and collective actions to renovations, cleanups, celebrations, and barbecue gatherings. Of course, as artists, we also present our own artworks. Through a rich variety of themes and materials—what we have come to call curadoTRETA—the exhibition brings together written pieces, drawings, paintings, LED panels, sound pieces, videos, concrete and wooden sculptures, photography on various supports, and other unconventional media.

To keep the space alive, we developed a public program of conversations, workshops, and knowledge-sharing called “Acadêmicos do Vilanismo” —a semantic play that challenges the hierarchy of knowledge, which often privileges academic and university-based learning over the wisdom of the streets, samba schools, terreiros, hip-hop gatherings, quilombos, and the hoods. Without ranking any of these knowledges, we come together in the spirit of aquilombamento to share our technical secrets, our experiences in the art system, and the expertise born from our own lives.

Through our work with the community, another collective action we will carry out is the Cortejo Negro [Black Procession], accompanied by a public reading of the Contramanifesto [Counter Manifesto] alongside those who walk with us. The procession will move through the surroundings of Ibirapuera Park, with its colonial monuments, and continue into the park toward the Bienal Pavilion. We chose November 15 for this action, the day Brazil celebrates its proclamation of the Republic in 1889, barely a year after the so-called abolition of slavery.

More than part of an exhibition, The boys—I don’t know what kind of fraternal oaths they swore to each other—Vilanismo’s installation at the 36th Bienal de São Paulo—and all of Irmandade’s actions are spells casts for the future. They are expressions of imagination and desire for a dignified life, fertile ground, and safe spaces for us and our communities. It is not just a display—it is a call to action, summoning allied discourses to break free from words, take material form, and join in building our physical and symbolic spaces of struggles and care.

Diego Crux: Almost-artist born and raised on the edge, in Parada de Taipas, now living downtown São Paulo. He hustles with art—and other things—across many places. Grandson of Rosa and Esmeraldo, he carries the color that holds memory. His research calls forth intimate and collective experiences, exploring representation, identity, and the limits, enigmas, and contradictions found at those crossroads.

Translation: Jess Oliveira