Early this February, Malta's social media culture-zealots took up their arms and painted a new bullseye on a series of temporary public artworks. The series - which is still on display - was unveiled in Valletta as part of the city's time as European Capital of Culture (ECoC), under the collective title Hekk Jgħid il-Malti (which, in English, means 'As it is said in Maltese'). It consists of 13 statues, made from steel supporting structures, polystyrene, gesso, waterproofing, hard-coating membrane and paint.
Each of them has been positioned in a prominent place across the city, intended to provide a visual reminder of Malta's linguistic heritage. Like many well-intended projects before it, the purity of the message behind the series was instantly stamped on by the public's perceptions and projections - a ritual that comes with the territory when creating art that is high in proximity and visibility. Some people were delighted with the series' levity, some were appalled by its formal simplicity and alleged crudeness and most forgot - or simply ignored - its purpose.
"We pitched our concept to Valletta 2018, discussed it with the programme coordinators and V18 eventually supported our project," says Joel Saliba. He responds to my questions despite his hectic week working at his co-owned boutique creative agency. His frankness about how the concept of the work came about un-muddies the water for the many people who believed the statues had an ulterior political message. "The concept was entirely our pitch. We wanted to develop a project using the Maltese language as inspiration," he says. "We wanted to translate words into images with a degree of fun that would convey the creative elements of the spoken word - structures that would be viewer-friendly and engaging".
And engaging they were. So welcoming were the statues in their aim to attract viewer interaction that they quickly fell prey to vandals, with several of the works being carved into, chipped and dismembered. The damage prompted a new wave of "hang on a minute..." reactions. Critics of the statues were quick to condemn the attacks, climbing back on to their seat of righteousness with fingers a-wagging and tongues a-tutting. But Saliba describes the vandalism as simply 'a reaction'. "At the moment, we are in the process of repairing the damage," he explains - almost dispassionately. "Eventually, all the pieces will be collected and put back in place."
"Yes, some people have interacted negatively," he continues. "Many others, on the other hand, were positively enthusiastic and liked the pieces a lot. We certainly can't say that Hekk Jgħid il-Malti didn't provoke a response." Those responses came through in a positive cascade - from the highest echelons of the local art scene to the man and woman on the street.
But none of this was really at odds with the team's intended ambition. "The assumption that you can please everyone is hardly realistic, particularly in a world governed by social media and keyboard warriors," says Saliba. "There is ample evidence of [negative] reaction and experience, not only in the Maltese context but universally and throughout history. Public space is highly contested: look at the deluge of negative reaction to the knot monument in Castille Square, or the three-legged horse."
He points out that the statues generated discussion on the Maltese language, "the authenticity of art, the democratisation of art in public spaces, the purpose of art, the politics of art, which social group has the right to decide what is good or bad art, etc. We wanted people from all walks of life to talk about art, culture and the Maltese language - and they did."
As Saliba elaborates on the team's intentions behind the series, it becomes clear that this was a project guided as much by pragmatism as by symbolism and interpretation. "Apart from the Maltese public, the pieces were also meant to grab the attention of the thousands of tourists who visit our beautiful capital on a daily basis," he says. "We wanted them to engage and discover the meaning behind these sculptures and, in some cases, compare or even contradict the proverbs found in their native language. Proverbs are derivatives of past life experiences, traditions and wisdom, in any language, which may be identical or completely opposite, according to culture, area, nation or individual experience. We think this is unity in diversity - and that this reflects the scope of the ECoC."
In a year where public art has been central to contentious discussions all over the world - Jeff Koons' Bouquet of Tulips has been spiritually rejected by the Parisian people, the Louvre cancelled its plans to publicly display the provocative Domestikator installation by Atelier Van Lieshout, and many social media users have outwardly criticised Ai Weiwei's public art installation, Good Fences Make Good Neighbours, recently erected across New York - this local crowd-divider seems to be very much on trend. In a sense, this series is doing exactly what it needs to do. It is allowing people to attach their own socio-political rhetoric to it, their individual qualms about the state of the nation, their new personal proverbs generated as reactionary answers to the situations in which they deem themselves to be.
Saliba explains that one of the proverbs they chose to interpret, Il-baqra koll hati nbiegħ (all parts of the cow are sold) "is very relevant - particularly in a contemporary world where the number of likes or dislikes are the currency of popularity and where group chats are vocal on every topic under the sun. We intentionally wanted to display this interpretation in front of the Piano parliament building - a beautifully designed building that has itself generated controversy with a lot of negative and positive reaction".
"Hekk Jgħid il-Malti never claimed to be anything but temporary public space art with a playful element inspired by the Maltese language," he insists, the emphasis being on 'temporary'. "The project was meant to be a fun, light-hearted take on Maltese proverbial expression, with a universal appeal."
The success of the series can only be measured by how the nature of 'appeal' is defined. Is it the ability to please, give joy to or titillate a nation, or is it the act of making an urgent request to the public? Hekk Jgħid il-Malti may have unwittingly achieved both these things in different ways. On the one hand, it has given the nation something new and inviting to discuss. On the other, it has forced them to turn the discussion to art - its eternal polarising function, outright and irrefutable relevence and unparalleled ability to hold up a mirror to society and our position in it.
Hekk Jgħid Il-Malti was created by Joel Saliba and Margaret Pace from Ikona Artworks, with assistance from Sara-Lee Zammit, Chris Galea and Perry Scenic Ltd, and is currently on display in Valletta.