Friday, May 1, 2026
Marcela Valente
- From a distance it looks like an ordinary traffic sign, a yellow rhombus like so many others in the Argentine capital. But on approach, the sign can be seen to contain an unusual warning message: “A former torturer lives 100 metres from here.”
The sign, quietly placed in a public area, will not stay in place for long, but the Street Art Group (GAC) does not care. “It may last a day, a week, or a little longer,” Carolina Golder, a member of the group, told IPS.
The aim of this collective of eight artists, designers and photographers is to infiltrate traditional communication systems and “subvert the message,” she commented.
The GAC was formed in 1997 to back a protest by teachers demanding wage hikes and a greater share of the budget for education. The teachers had pitched a massive tent in front of Congress, and took turns camping there for more than two years.
The artists adorned the White Tent, as it was called, with black and white silhouettes of the white coats worn by teachers in Argentina.
The group became famous, however, when the Parque de la Memoria (Memory Park) was inaugurated. This is a green area along the bank of the Rio de la Plata commemorating those who were detained and ‘disappeared’ during the 1976-1983 military dictatorship. The GAC put up a set of “road signs” with messages to recount the last few years of Argentine history.
“We define ourselves more as activists than artists,” said Golder, the group’s spokesperson. Passersby react with surprise and curiosity. Many drivers think they must have been imagining things after seeing the usual symbols of law and order transformed, for one brief moment, into a new and unexpected message.
The GAC has worked with HIJOS, a human rights group made up of children of people who were forcibly ‘disappeared’ by the dictatorship, in actions (known as “escraches”) to make neighbours aware of where former torturers and other agents of repression are living.
That gave rise to the idea for the rhombus-shaped signs to alert people to the possible presence of former torturers. Maps have also been made, similar to the maps of the Buenos Aires subway system, but which show in red where clandestine concentration camps were located during the dictatorship.
Later on, the group’s activities expanded and took on a higher profile.
On the eve of Argentina’s late 2001 economic and political collapse, the members of the GAC encircled the Congress building with red-and-white tape like that used on the streets to warn about danger.
They also made signs reading “closing down sale,” like those used in shops getting ready to shut their doors. But they put them up on the front of the Casa Rosada – the government palace – and on the Congress building and the Obelisco monument in the city centre.
“What we do isn’t art, but collective interventions aimed at opening up a dialogue with people,” said Golder. She added that their work is always unsigned because the idea is to create an ambiguous message which looks like a quirk within the information system itself.
In spite of the short-lived nature of the messages, they are welcomed by the public, even though they sometimes touch on sensitive issues. “Usually it’s the police who take them down,” the artist said. But members of the group are persistent, and often replace their sign, map or poster on, or near, the same spot.
The GAC has also put up plaques and altars, similar to those that commemorate the country’s independence heroes, in memory of the 29 demonstrators killed by police in December 2001 during the brutal crackdown on the popular uprising which forced then president Fernando De la Rúa to step down halfway through his term of office.
The artists mark the place where the victims fell, along with their name, age, and the date they were killed, with printed paper covered in resin, which makes it hard to remove. These markers tend to disappear after a few weeks, but the group and the relatives of the victims merely replace them.
Another controversial initiative is printing tickets identical to those sold by the subway company, with the same typeface and colours, but with the name and photo of a former torturer who currently works as head of security for the subway firm Metrovías.
Sometimes the activist artists resort to a quicker method of production which is nonetheless just as effective. They merely add their message to billboards and advertising posters. For example, to a poster for a recital by Puerto Rican pop star Chayanne, they added a bubble in which the singer is calling for freedom for those arrested in a street demonstration.
With organisations of the unemployed, the GAC took part in a traditional pilgrimage to the church of San Cayetano, patron saint of work, and distributed the usual small pictures of the saint among the faithful.
But instead of a prayer on the reverse side, their cards had a summary of a proposal to reduce the working day from eight to six hours.
The group’s latest contribution to street art has already crossed borders and has been used in Germany and Brazil. They produced silhouettes that look like shooting targets, but have a printed message saying “we are still the targets of… ,” and the message is completed with the particular user’s reply: “consumerism,” “precarious employment”, or “repression.”