‘Wouldn’t it be cool to just paint the whole thing’, Jeroen Koolhaas and Dre Urhahn said to one another in 2005, looking at the big slums rising above Rio de Janeiro. “It was one of those wild plans you sometimes have,” Koolhaas says. “We just finished shooting our film Firmeza Total, about hip-hop culture in the favelas, the enormous slums in Rio de Janeiro where one third of the city’s population lives.”

The aim of the documentary was to prove that youth culture is the same in big cities anywhere on the planet. Koolhaas: “Even if they are poor, don’t have sanitation systems and the criminality rate is high. We wanted to give attention to the positive side of the story. For example a lot of refreshing new music emerges in the favelas.”

Illustrator Koolhaas (30) and gallery owner Urhahn (33) thought of other ideas to give more attention to the favela’s. They came up with the idea to paint at least part of the slums that lie on the hillsides around the city and thus are visible on every postcard and tourist snapshot. “If we could manage to make some big paintings, we thought, the skyline of the city would change forever. It would automatically generate a lot of attention for this problematic area; maybe even give it a new identity. It would be something impossible to ignore by the inhabitants of the richer parts of the city or by the authorities.”

In 2006 they decided they were up for it. Their lives were about to change, as Urhahn gave up his job at the Amsterdam based gallery a Blue Chicken, and they rented a nice apartment by the sea in Rio. Although they had many ideas for locations and designs, they preferred to discuss everything with the inhabitants and let them decide.

“That took a long time, because the slums are controlled by armed drugs gangs, and the people were a bit cautious. We already had some friends there, but we needed to gain more confidence from the residents. We were thinking of painting a Brazilian flag, or maybe children, because they are the future of the favela, but we let everything up to them.”

The first painting emerged in the neighbourhood of Vila Cruzeiro, overlooking a square used as a soccer field. A blue design with the image of a boy flying a kite, something all the children do in the favela’s, was chosen by the residents. Local children helped paint the grids, plaster the walls, and document everything on photo and video. “We really wanted it to be their piece of art, we saw ourselves only as the catalysts of the project. They don’t have a lack of pride, but they do of possibilities and perspective. We even thought about making t-shirts, and developing a small economy for them to sustain themselves. But first we have to continue painting.”

Meanwhile Koolhaas and Urhahn have started a second painting, in the same neighbourhood. “One day, when we went to visit a friend we saw these enormous stairways. Immediately we knew we wanted to paint a river on it. In fact, it’s already a concrete river, as it is used as a drainage canal. Because of the shape of the wall we thought it would be great to draw a characteristic Japanese tattoo-like painting of fish and water. We invited the renowned artist Rob Admiraal from Amsterdam, an expert in Japanese tattoo-design, to help us design it. Then we started the whole painting process. We’re right in the middle of it.”

Because of the success of the first painting, Koolhaas and Urhahn are being treated well by the neighbours. “People here are proud of our work, and often give us compliments and ask us questions about which colours we’re going to use.” The Dutch artists have no contact with the Brazilian authorities, as the favela where they’re working is totally controlled by the drugs gang Comando Vermelho. Koolhaas: “The way it works is this: first, we present our designs to the drug boss, and we ask permission to continue with our project. Well, we don’t do it directly; we have a middleman for that. By doing it in that way we’re never bothered by the guys with the machine guns in the streets.” But the guns have already hurt the first painting in the soccer field. “Yes, it has about fifteen bullet holes, luckily none in the face.”

This article appeared in art magazine MOOSE