SANTUÁRIO

_2020

What’s the story?

In 2016, I attended the 17th annual Pride march in Lisboa, where I made this, and also where I realised that I could not find a rainbow flag for sale ANYWHERE. I tried in every shop. Nadinha.

This really bothered me. I entertained the idea of buying a thousand rainbow flags from a wholesaler and giving them away for free to lojas de conveniência across the city, telling them that they should sell them for whatever price they want.

I thought (perhaps somewhat naively) that by normalising this symbol, and making it popular with residents and tourists alike, it would, in some small way, help to remove the baseline "fear of the other" from the equation.

From flag to sticker

Fast forward to summer 2019, I returned to the kernel of that idea, but wanted to create something new and less commercially minded.

Anyone who lives in Lisboa will have seen the name GECO spray-painted and stickered absolutely everywhere.

A year earlier the anonymous Italian behind the tag had given an interview to O Corvo and I was intrigued by how unashamedly egocentric his art was; a desire to be in so many places it would be impossible to not know his name.

I took note of this very effective technique.

Creating a new design

The Pride flag has always gone, and continues to go, through many transformations.

I wanted to create something that was more local, more inclusive, and which would stand out in its relatively discreet size once printed as stickers for the urban landscape.

I settled on a distinctive narrow strip shape, incorporating colours from the pride and trans flags, the name of my city, and a sharp black outline to define a clear boundary between itself and wherever it ended up.

If you squint, I think it looks a bit like Lisboa’s brightly colourful buildings between the sky above and the Tejo below.

It was bright and awkward, it could fly under the radar but was unmissable once spotted.

In other words, it was queer.

It felt incredibly well-timed, too. In July 2019 there was the news of a conservative magazine in Poland giving away free “LGBT-free zone” stickers.

I printed off the first batch of 200 150mm x 29mm stickers.

The plan was to put them up in these locations:

But I realised after putting up the first few…

…that I would need a hell of a lot more to make the impact I had originally imagined.

Still, I created a custom map with the location of every single one, and attached the photos I took of them right after I did.

It was a fascinating — and genuinely terrifying — experience.

I would usually head out alone on weekdays after 22:00 or later, when there were less people on the streets, but I was never not surprised by how scared I felt while doing it.

It was illicit behaviour, and every time I reached into my pocket to pull out another, I was overcome with anxious feelings.

The fear of getting caught.

The thought of the shame I would feel if I was.

Having to “act normal”.

It felt like being in the closet all over again.

But I also felt defiant, and was emboldened by this mission to seed the urban landscape with little colourful winks hiding in plain sight.

I imagined others like me might feel a little safer when they saw it.

After all, 6 in 10 of us are afraid to hold hands in public.

I called the project SANTUÁRIO (SANCTUARY).

It stalled a couple of months later. I had gotten up to 284.

The Câmara Municipal had started and continues with a huge effort to clean graffiti across the city and most of the stickers have long since vanished.

Some remain to this day, and it’s a nice surprise when I come across them.

But with almost ten times as many left in my house as I ever managed to put up, I wanted to put them to good use.

So I reached out and donated this bulk to the sexual health clinic CheckPointLX and to Portugal’s oldest queer rights association ILGA, for them to sell to supporters for a suggest 2€ each as a way to raise funds for their vital activities.

That feels like an even better outcome than I originally planned.

I continue to produce and distribute the stickers around town — please do reach out to me if you’d like some.

[carrozo]

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