Making The Bench Of A Bad Situation

Local artists Sarahi Zacatelco, Eamon Linehan, Israel Sanchez, and Joel Celi faced a blank canvas in the form of a freshly painted white bench right outside of Evolution SD Hairstudio on Grand Avenue.

The functional sculpture is part of a collective initiative to design socially distanced seating outside the many small businesses that sit on Fair Haven’s main commercial drag.

During a Saturday afternoon interview, Zacatelco, the project’s leader, said that the piece is also meant to ​“make people a little less miserable” during a time of mass death and hardship.

“I live across the street; I walk here everyday,” Zacatelco said. ​“It’s lonely. No art. No life.”

“We need more color, more Latin… more spicy!” she added, laughing.

“I’m Mexican, he’s Ecuadorian,” Zacatelco said, pointing to Sanchez. ​“This is about us, the culture. Fair Haven.”

Zacatelco came up with the idea after returning to her childhood city during the pandemic.

The fine artist had previously worked on community centered art in Spanish Harlem, where she collaborated with other artists to build outdoor eating areas for restaurants that were hit hard by Covid-19.

Zacatelco would paint murals across the walls which protected diners from street traffic.

The desire to serve her home community only grew when she got back to Fair Haven. She asked herself over and over again, ​“How can we help each other, how can we continue to create?”

Quarantine-induced restlessness was also partly responsible for the new art. At a time when many report feeling emotionally and physically stuck, Zacatelco declared, ​“Let’s do something! Let’s paint!”

Her long-time friends and colleagues were also thinking about how to bring joy and awareness into their community.

“I noticed disparaging differences in support for downtown businesses compared to here,” Linehan said. Fair Haven is a low-income area that is composed primarily of people of color: 63 percent of the neighborhood’s population is Hispanic.

The women-led, grassroots art project was an opportunity to celebrate the makeup of the community, connect artists and allies during a time of immense isolation, and educate Fair Haven folks about the virus itself.

Zacatelco said that over the past months she has seen long lines of people waiting outside of the hair studio. Other than a few dining chairs out front, there was nowhere for people to sit before their appointment. Zacatelco’s attention was drawn instead to the garbage littering the streets.

She imagined new benches that would encourage people to patronize stores, and allow them to stay physically separate while putting their feet up. In addition to safe social engagement, the structures could promote environmental friendliness.

Linehan built the bench himself out of shipping skids and other recycled materials. He said the construction process took around 40 hours.

The outcome was a carefully crafted loveseat, divided in two by a wooden crate in which the artists planted a bright pink hibiscus plant.

The flower itself was a gift from the wife of the hair studio’s owner; Zacatelco shared that local business owners had been ​“super duper welcoming” of the project.

The bench was not the only brilliant display sharing the sidewalk outside of the hair studio.

Eunice Pereda was showcasing, and selling, a different kind of artwork inspired by the current moment.

While Zacatelco, Linehan, Sanchez, and Celi have known each other for years because of their intersecting childhoods, artwork, and activism, Pereda and Zacatelco first connected through Facebook this spring.

Pereda is the founder of MUSAS Oaxaqueñas, an artisan clothing store which sells clothes that are handmade by families in Mexico to people in the United States. When the pandemic hit, she was living in the Bronx, unsure how to continue her work.

“I wanted to keep helping artisans with a new concept,” Pereda said. Though Pereda had little experience with sewing, she happened to have a sewing machine stored in the back of a closet. She took it out and began making her own face masks, even creating a Youtube tutorial called ​“the easiest way to make a face mask” for those who wanted to fashion their own.

While in New York, she contacted Zacatelco and asked for help and insight. ​“Come to Connecticut,” Zacatelco urged her. ​“We can help each other!”

The two asked around and earned permission from the barber shop to set up shop outside of the building, charging $10 – 15 for masks alongside a variety of other products.

“People asked me, what are you doing outside, you’ll get sick!” Pereda recounted. ​“I need to eat,” she told them.

Soon Pereda was able to work solely as a sales rep, reaching out to eight different families in Mexico who now send her the pieces they make at home.

“It’s to help everyone,” Zacatelco said, emphasizing how the operation has connected Hispanic communities across the globe. ​“Everyone’s trying to make some money right now.”

“It’s women’s empowerment,” Zacatelco stated. ​“There are so many women in this time who need to work themselves but stay at home. I say, you can create something working with your hands… you can make and sell cookies! You can help each other.”

She added that because of Pereda’s straightforward Youtube tutorial, more ​“poor people are starting to make and sell masks.” Zacatelco asserted that the fabric masks were more sustainable than common surgical ones. And, of course, ensuring that as many affordable masks are available to those in low-income areas is promising for overall public health.

“It’s For Everyone!”

Throughout the afternoon, passerby and nearby employees stopped at 314 Grand Ave. to add their own design to the bench. Those without masks were given one from Pereda’s stand.

The artists themselves did not have a strict vision for how the bench would be painted. ​“It’s mostly for the kids,” Zacatelco said. ​“Whatever they want!”

Sanchez laughed. ​“Then it will probably be something abstract.”

Linehan estimated that around 25 people stopped by, pressing hand prints and painting hearts alongside the established artists. Others inquired whether the bench would be able to withstand temperamental weather conditions and support a broad range of body types. ​“The answer is yes,” Linehan said.

Pereda’s table of rainbow-hued goods attracted just as much attention as the bench. Even those who did not purchase anything exclaimed, ​“Que lindo!” when they saw the colorful counter.

During six months of social stagnation, Zacatelco said that at the very least the new bench suggests that ​“something has changed,” and may provide hope to those who take notice.

Zacatelco also spoke to the beauty of collaboration.

Everyone in the community had something unique to offer, whether that was a splash of paint, free masks, or a storefront in front of which to place the bench. Zacatelco also highlighted the diverse skills of her fellow organizers.

Zacatelco came up with the idea and oversaw its unfolding. Linehan built the bench and took photographs of the event. Sanchez has expertise in graphic design and created the banner which hung behind the bench. And Celi, like the others, is a professional painter.

While all the artists are busy with their own personal projects — and Linehan noted that ​“there isn’t a lot of funding in the art department”— Zacatelco has many ideas for future community work.

In addition to building more benches across the street, she has taken inspiration from an artist in Bushwick who made ​“friendly fridges,” which are painted, public refrigerators that offer free food to anyone who needs it.

“I see people asking for food on these streets everyday,” Zacatelco said. ​“I see this project, and I ask, ​‘Can I take it?’” she recalled. The artist replied: ​“Yes! It’s for everyone!”

While the public artwork really is for everyone, Zacatelco had one personal hope underlying the mission. ​“Businesses have treated me like a friend,” she said of the project’s process. ​“I want everyone here to know me.”

Hands on her hips, she stated softly, ​“I just want everyone’s respect.”