In 2020, as the world faced unprecedented challenges due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I embarked on a transformative journey in my personal life. As someone with an introverted nature who often withdrew from social groups, I felt a deep desire to change and be more open to the world around me. It was time to step out of my comfort zone and discover new dimensions of myself.

This journey led me to an incredible experience where my passion for art found a new and unexpected path. It allowed me to develop further and positively influence both my own life and also that of my community.

It all started when MuralFest, an organization that aims to help youth and other marginalized groups through wall art, opened a call for volunteers to join their team. I saw the call, but I came from a completely different background than what was required. At that time, I was a high school student majoring in natural sciences, where art was generally not given the importance it deserved. At least, it wasn’t treated with the importance that I believed art — something I had been talented in from a young age — should be treated with.

Participating in the MuralFest program seemed like a good opportunity to find a place where art is appreciated as it deserves to be. This commitment also appeared as a gateway for further developing my love, passion and talent for art, mainly painting. Despite my skepticism about how well my profile would fit the requirements of the call, I applied. And, surprisingly, I was accepted.

I received an invitation to the first introductory meeting. I was very excited and also afraid about how it would go. Again, everything went way better than I expected. During the following days, we held meetings where we were informed about the jobs and tasks that we, as young people, would do during that year’s edition.

It was the “CHANGE” edition. This was just one of the various topics that MuralFest has dealt with over the years. Through these themes, the festival has tried to draw collective attention to important social issues such as free movement, the environment, corruption, the notion of home, gender justice and others. It does this by painting public spaces with beautiful colors and images that call for reflection. 

For the edition where I started working, artists and muralists from different countries in Europe, each with a wealth of experience, came to Ferizaj for two weeks to create murals. This work has earned the city the nickname “the city of murals.”

Our role as volunteers was to help these artists realize their work. Once the work began, we were scattered in different locations with different artists, each with a sequence of tasks and responsibilities to fulfill. These tasks mainly involved staying close to the artists in case they needed anything like paint, brushes, or tools. Occasionally, we were also involved in the artistic process, helping to paint parts of the murals. To do this, we had to climb the scaffolding.

A double change 

Despite the fact that the MuralFest team had prepared us for our volunteer experience, it was still brand new to me, which fueled uncertainty about whether I would be able to pull it off. They had told us about the challenges they had faced in past editions — mainly around people’s prejudices and reactions. I had been warned that it was not easily accepted for a girl to climb the scaffolding to paint in the city. However, experiencing it firsthand was different.

I remember my first time climbing the scaffolding and starting to help the artist. People passing by gave me strange looks and made comments like “scaffolding is for men and boys, not girls.” Other hurtful words were also said.

There were also people who, when they saw me walking around the city, would tease me because of the way I looked — covered in paint from working all day. I used to hear comments like, “These city painters have come out, look, look, what she is wearing.” Or, when I was carrying buckets of paint or different work tools, I faced demeaning remarks like, “Hahaha, look at the painter, what’s she carrying?” and “How much do you charge per square meter? I have a bedroom that needs to be painted.”

These behaviors made me doubt myself and question whether what I was doing was wrong. At times, these comments even made me feel ashamed of my commitment. When it was all over and I went home, I thought about those words even longer and harder. Several times, I even considered quitting the experience I had just started.

I discussed the challenges I faced with my parents. They advised and encouraged me not to quit because they saw and understood how passionately and happily I did my work. Their constant advice was to keep working, assuring me that eventually, people would get used to it. They knew our good intentions and noticed the connection I had made with the other members of the group. They were also clear that this experience was positively affecting my personality and development. They tried to give me the courage I needed to continue learning different artistic techniques, convincing me that what I had set out to do was bigger than prejudice and derogatory words. They convinced me that girls could climb the scaffolding and that girls don’t give up.

And I continued. Each year brought a new edition and a new experience. Slowly, people started to get used to us and our work. Prejudices and negative comments began to turn into praise and gratitude for the work we were doing, such as “thank you, you have beautified the city,” “now we are known as the city of murals,” and “you have given life to these old buildings.”

Once, I was carrying some buckets of paint and some young guys passing by said they wanted to help me. This surprised me a lot, as it had not happened to me before. At that moment, I realized that we were giving life to the city with the colors. Also, in addition to raising awareness about the topics we covered in each edition, we were also bringing change in another way — existing without differences and equally in public spaces, from which women are often excluded. This exclusion often occurs in the form of belittling, teasing and mocking, as it did with me. We were working towards the goal that the three women artists who started MuralFest — Lebibe Topalli, Pranvera Sylejmani and Antigona Heta — had from the beginning: supporting and empowering women artists in Kosovo.

The “CHANGE” edition changed more than just the city. As I was part of this change, I also changed. I gained new friends and self-confidence. Along with my artistic skills, I discovered an inner strength that has driven me to fulfill my goals and dreams. I learned to handle my responsibilities and duties more effectively. I became more social, approachable and open in communication. I improved my communication skills, started talking more and built stronger and lasting relationships with those around me.

Even today, I am part of MuralFest. Now that I have started studying architecture, I am attempting to blend technical expertise with creativity to create work that enriches public spaces and makes a valuable contribution to the community. With a growing love for art and a strong sense of commitment to change, I am inspired to continue on my path, focusing on the positive impact and changes that I and my collaborators can bring to our world. A world where girls climb the scaffolding.

Feature Image: K2.0.