text_ANICÉE GADDIS photography_GUSTAVO DI MARIO

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ike a true Argentine, one of the first things I did upon landing in Buenos Aires – the city of “Fair Winds” or “Good Air” – was take myself to a café in Palermo, one of the city’s most vibrant neighborhoods. I had

been to Buenos Aires once before, during the economic crisis in 2002, and was anxious to rediscover the city that, by all accounts, has been resurrecting and recalibrating itself with unswerving devotion ever since. As I sat among a lively afternoon crowd, picking my way through a bowl of fresh guacamole accompanied by a local Quilmes beer, I began to feel some of the nostalgia from my first trip seep through my jet-lagged inertia. Like an old samba, or a childhood memory, or a favorite lover, Buenos Aires is about the feeling it gives you; a mix of cerebral brightness and sensual timelessness that, once it gets into your system, seems to linger around the edges indefinitely. As I walked back to the guesthouse I was staying at in Palermo Viejo (Old Palermo), I started to remember all the experiences that had first pulled me in five years earlier: the music, the people, the metallic sun reflected against the buildings during the days and the endless aluminum nights. Although the neighborhood of Palermo is something of an anomaly in the South American city of three million, it is also one of its defining features. With its cobbled streets, two-story homes and mood of unaffected tranquility, it offers a much coveted escape from the tony neighborhood of Recoleta for example, where high-end shopping abounds, or the historic district of La Boca, where tango is rumored to have been born. Palermo is also one of the largest neighborhoods in the city, with some 250,000 residents, not including the infinite universe of dogs. It is home to the city’s botanical gardens and zoo, as well as the new Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires (MALBA). In fact Palermo is so rich with nuance, it now has sub-neighborhoods going by the names of Palermo Soho, Palermo Hollywood, and even Palermo Queens. After introducing myself to my housemates, who hailed from all four corners of the globe, we decided to have dinner at Minga, a restaurant that specializes in meat dishes. The reputation for grass-fed beef in Argentina precedes itself. Locals will go so far as to argue that their brand of cattle is superior even to the Japanese Wagyu breed, which produces the popular Kobe beef. Whatever the case, you can still order a three-course meal with wine for a criminally affordable price, especially if you have U.S. dollars or euros (the exchange rate is roughly three pesos to the dollar). Once two Argentine friends joined us, we began discussing the ethnic makeup of the city, a topic that was appropriate considering our own motley blend. I learned that people have lived in Palermo since the 1600s, before the area had a name. The population began to surge in the 1800s with the arrival of Spanish, Italian, Eastern European and Middle Eastern immigrants. During the 1920s, more than half of Buenos Aires inhabitants had been born abroad, mainly because Argentina was the second largest port for immigrants traveling to the American continent after the United States. If you ask a local about his family roots, he is likely to boast a bi or tri-cultural citizenship. The beauty of Buenos Aires, like New York or London, is the intercontinental mash-up; Greeks, Italians, Spanish and Germans form the foundation of the human fabric, while Chinese, Mexicans and Brazilians complete the texture. Argentina also has the fifth largest Jewish community in the world, after Israel, the U.S., Russia and France. But demographics aside, what makes the alchemy so special is the sometimes startling beauty of the people. With their dark hair, blue eyes and Roman noses, they resemble a European-South American cross-pollination that looks like it belongs on a plinth in Florence’s celebrated Duomo rather than as pedestrian traffic in the streets. And the Porteños, as the locals call themselves, know this. They consider themselves to be world citizens of a world city rather than mere South Americans occupying the southern length of the continent,

I think for sure we have a reason to be here in life, and I’m here to spread happiness!!

I create my own way, my style. My heart is totally involved when I work, so it’s a mix of soul, knowledge and experience.

My experience as a traveler is my main influence. I think that people and places have a deep relationship. That balance is what I try to catch.

As a surrender, where the mind doesn’t make a decision, just the heart. To know your limits in life.

My friends and family. The big economic difference between social classes.

Becoming a mother. I love electronic music. One of my best nights was at the South American Music Conference,

where I was in charge of all the production (sets, performers, costumes, etc). It was such a joy to see all these people enjoying my work.

Occupation: Hotelier

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After a perfect breakfast of the sweet, crispy medialunas (the Argentine version of croissants) with the bitterly strong matte tea, I took a drive with Astrid Perkins, our hostess from the night before who runs her own P.R. company Think Argentina. As we careened down the main stretch of the heart of downtown, past the old tango bars and art deco shopping plazas – the Times Square of Buenos Aires as it is known – Astrid schooled me on some of the magic of her city. She is a world traveler, with stints in London, New York, Paris and even Kenya, where she had a first-rate Hemingway style romance with a game hunter who nearly convinced her to stay with him and raise a family. As we pulled up to a traffic light at the Avenida de 9 Julio – the date marks the city’s independence – Astrid told me that at an estimated 140 meters it is one of the widest avenues in the world. With twelve lanes of traffic, making your way across the Av. 9 de Julio on foot requires a multi-phase plan of attack. “This is one of the most memorable scenes for me,” Astrid commented. Indeed with the giant Obelisk commemorating the city’s 400th anniversary looming ahead, the Teatro Colón and the statue of Don Quixote at the intersection of the Avenida de Mayo in the distance, there was little doubt that we were cruising down a monumental history-way of sorts. Even Astrid’s Fox Terrier Duca, who was perched in the backseat, seemed to be mesmerized by the view. Later that evening, I stopped by the Philip Starck-designed Faena hotel. With its plush velvet interior accented by the Starckian touch of a skewed mirror or a red glass ashtray, the boutique outpost offers a prime example of sophisticated South American luxury. The real estate magnate and hotelier Alan Faena is currently in the process of establishing an arts foundation – similar to New York’s P.S. 1 multi-arts space – that will be housed in the historic Los Molinos building. There is also a rumor that producer Harvey Weinstein is investing in a new film production company to be based in Buenos Aires in collaboration with Faena. I met a friend for a drink at the hotel bar and, as we talked, the place began to fill with attractive young locals out for a Friday night. Although we hadn’t realized it at first, it quickly became apparent – especially when a man with five-inch-tall sculpted hair began banging out a version of “Hound Dog” on a piano – that we were in the midst of an Elvis Presley tribute soirée. (The Porteños are music heads to the max, and their tastes range, somewhat wildly, anywhere from Frank Sinatra to Dire Straits to Pink Floyd to the world-famous tango maestro Àstor Piazzolla.) As we were making our exit, I asked one of the bellmen why there was an Elvis party on that night in particular. “It’s the 30th anniversary of his passing,” he said. “He was a hero, an American hero, but still a master.” As we waited for a “Radio taxi” outside, the line to get into the hotel turned into a velvet rope affair. “That was kind of freaky,” my friend said, as we drove away. “Cool, but freaky.” We ended the night, or rather broke open the morning at a party at the nightclub La Catedral. It’s a fantastic ages-old building packed with street-rescued furniture, which gives it a post-chic, art-house aesthetic. Spotlights highlight the dance floor where you can watch young couples renovating the timeworn ritual of tango. But even with the house music pounding and the drinks flowing, the Porteños never seemed to lose their cool. By the time I finally made it home I felt like I’d been jetted through a time warp from the past tense to the future perfect. There was a dog barking somewhere nearby as I was dozing off. I pulled the covers over my head but then got up again to set my alarm because I didn’t want to miss out on the next day’s adventure.

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I met with Andrés Bonavera, one of the founding members, along with Lucas Lasnier, of the graffiti collective Kid Gaucho, on Saturday. Over cups of steaming matte at his studio in Palermo Soho, we discussed his work, the inspiration behind it and the various crosswinds that had landed him at the center of his passion. Andrés explained that he was in a hardcore metal band when he first met Lucas, who was producing visuals for the band’s shows. “We were both skaters; both into the same music, the same graphics, the same women,” Andrés said. He came up with the “Kid Gaucho” moniker based on an episode from a Walt Disney cartoon, where the character of Goofy is dressed up as a gaucho. “A gaucho is an Argentine cowboy. You see them a lot in the region of the Pampas. It was a very pop image for me,” Andrés added, “and very compelling.” His work blends the bubble letters and dough-bodied figures reminiscent of New York’s “Wild Style” era, accented by more a refined technical drawing. His characters are inviting because they seem to be animated even as they pose stationary on one of the city’s brick or cement walls. I saw much of the Kid Gaucho brand during my stay in Buenos Aires. More than just street artists, Andrés and Lucas have been commissioned recently by commercial brands like Motorola, Adidas and Dasani to work on advertising campaigns. “When we go to paint, the neighbors usually give us cakes and drinks,” Andrés said. “We’re not a gangster tribe… we just want to change the view of the city.” When I asked about the legality of street art (i.e. graffiti) in Buenos Aires, Andrés pulled out a small-scale working canvas for a large mural he had just completed. “When I did this painting a cop came up and started watching me. I said, ‘Is it okay?’ And he said, ‘With me, yes, it’s fine.’” Back at the guesthouse, we got ready for a house party to close out the weekend. It was not so different from a house party in any city, save for the fact that being one of the few Americans in the mix made me the subject of curiosity for the evening. I had a lengthy conversation with a young filmmaker named Gabriel Delponte about early American cinema. I talked with a strong-limbed young woman about the growing popularity of yoga in South America, and then with Nedjelco Karlovich, a fellow New Yorker who recently launched the design firm Santos & Karlovich, about the timeline and style shifts of graffiti from the world over. But the most enlightening and enjoyable conversation was with a man named Marcello Mortarotti, who, after comparing his list of favorite authors with mine (Pablo Neruda and Virginia Woolf were neck and neck for a good half hour), told me he was preparing to open a writer’s retreat in the Western wine region of Mendoza. We talked some more – he praised my “sensation of humor” and I complimented his “top-shelf mind.” Before saying our goodbyes, Marcello invited me to his place in Mendoza as soon as “the plumbing got operational.” The party lasted until five in the morning. Once the conversations ebbed, the dancing began and it was hard to get people to leave until someone suggested hitting a club. Another guest I’d been talking to, Romano Lametti, told me Buenos Aires was now “second to New York.” When I asked him what he meant by that, he said, “We are the second city that never sleeps. You are the first and we are the second. But be careful because we are catching up.” I lay down on the bed in my upstairs room and listened to the downstairs cavalry of departing guests. Someone had put on a D’Angelo CD and I couldn’t stop smiling as I drifted, exhaustedly, into sleep.

I read once in “Psychology for Dummies” that a calling was sexual energy sublimated. I focus mine on painting.

My uniqueness resides in the fact that as soon as my brush touches the canvas, it’s like a disco version of “Die Walküre” sung by James Blunt.

Pompeian paintings, Roman sculpture, art books published in the 1950s and 1960s, artists like Goya, Watteau, Mondrian, the Argentinean Pampas, Goethe, Borges, Susumo Yokota, Michael Sembello, Burt Bacharach, Wagner.

Passion is an uncontrollable fire that devastates everything… it triggers wars as well as works of art.

To fear death is natural, to fear mediocrity is mediocre. To be afraid of making a mistake is what paralyzes one’s energy.

That Buenos Aires remains a project. There are many things halfway done. Immigrants arrived a long time ago to put up a fantastic city, which hasn’t yet been finished.

The art market is still young. I

remember a particular night in which I went to a very well known club called the Black Tiger in an elegant neighborhood in the city. I managed to hit on six girls and take them back to my place, where I made them experience orgasmic ecstasy while reading them “The Brothers Karamazov.”

Occupation: Painter

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Sara McDevitt picked me up the following Sunday afternoon. I had met her and her husband Prince at the party the previous evening, and they had invited me to visit them at their home in the neighborhood of Saavedra. Together they form the clothing company Prisa, which translates as “to go fast” in Spanish. They specialize in polo jerseys for some eight teams, based in Florida, Kentucky and, of course, Buenos Aires. The actor Tommy Lee Jones, who has his own polo team San Saba, is one of their clients, as well as the Argentine superstar Adolfo Cambiaso. Prince, who was born and raised in Buenos Aires, met Sara, a native of Seattle, in Munich, Germany, during a time when they were both working as designers for Adidas. They fell in love, left Adidas behind, formed Prisa and got married in Las Vegas. According to Sara’s swollen belly, a new sibling will soon join their daughter Leyka. While Prince showed me some of his recent designs and mock-ups, we talked about his passion for Argentina and sports, an interdependent romance that defines his personal life as much as his professional one. “I’m a sports fanatic,” he said, mentioning that he had played soccer, tennis and “paddle” as a teenager. “And I’m very influenced by my mother culture. When I used to design jerseys for the Argentine soccer team, it was always about how they looked. I would wake up early to buy the morning paper after a match just to check out their picture.” When Sara and I first arrived at the house, Prince was glued to a flat screen television showing an NBA basketball game. The irony is that with his renaissance goatee and shaven head, he looks more like a modern-day Socrates, or a figure from one of Plato’s morality plays than a polo-designing sports fan. Prince explained that he and Sara split their time between Miami and Buenos Aires, and sometimes attended up to five polo matches a week. The irony continued when he showed me a ream of digital photos of polo players attending awards ceremonies, mounted on horseback, and poised beside he and Sara – the two design-minded bohemians mixing it up with a typically bourgeois clique. Their daughter Leyka was in one of the photos. Her blond hair was windblown and her expression of childish wonderment literally lit up the frame. As I had learned at the house party, and am constantly reminded by expatriated Argentine friends living in New York, the creative community in Buenos Aires is anything but stagnant. In looking at the subjects of this Citiscape, the variety of disciplines, backgrounds and temperaments spans the roster from environmentalism to journalism, from Yugoslavian to Italian, from fire-branded enthusiasts to slow-burn philosophers. But the common thread is an openness coupled with a contagious sense of impatience to exploit the worldliness and creative intelligence of the transcultural metropolis. Edgar Betelu, who was born in Buenos Aires and has been a longtime New Yorker, still divides his time between the two cities. He runs a globally-influenced record label, Circular Moves, that puts out some of the most esteemed artists from New York, France, Cuba, Brazil and Argentina. Likewise, Teresa Bo, a correspondent for Al Jazeera, spends her time mapping the seven continents from behind a news camera with her microphone constantly in hand. Most recently she has reported on stories from Iraq, Peru and El Salvador. Back at the guesthouse, Astrid picked me up with her trusty sidekick Duca and her friend Nedjelco, whom I’d met at the house party, later that afternoon. “I have a surprise for you,” Astrid said with dancing eyes. “A Sunday surprise.” She took Nedjelco and I (Duca had to stay in the car) to La Ideal, one of the oldest, and by far grandest architectural and cultural wonders of the city. Located on the Avenida Corrientes, La Ideal is a classic ballroom and confitería that was built in 1918, where you can watch or participate in tango, all day on Sundays and on certain nights during the week.

Barbara Palacios: To play and to sing.Leandro Bulacio: I’m convinced that mine is to play music. Camilo Carabajal: My calling is to travel, to listen, to smile, to connect, to dance, to share, to fall in love, to cry = music!

BP: Photographs, a good painting, a good record. Everything that transmits beauty comes back at the moment of composition. LB: What influences my work most of all is the people whom I share the scenario with. CC: In some moments different memories flourish but mostly life itself.

BP: As the best and the worst part of life.LB: It is that place inside you that makes you go ahead with the art of living.CC: I define it as a place where you lose control of your own mind. Sometimes that’s good, other times difficult.

LB: As the moderator, or container that stops you from being an asshole.CC: As something unexpected and unknown.

BP: Obviously, its folklore, in every way.

LB: What I don’t like in Buenos Aires is what I don’t like in the rest of the world. The globalization germs, the supermarkets, the malls, all the enterprises inviting you to give them money.

CC: My son Lucero came out of his mother while she was singing. He was screaming and I was crying.

CC: Every night has its magic in Buenos Aires. Last week we played with Semilla in a superfest and then in our peña, in the milonga called La Catedral. We had dinner with lots of friends and made new friends as well. We sang, we danced, we partied, which happens almost every time we get together.

Occupation: MUSICOS in the band Semilla

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The scene was ripe with nuance. There were young, old and people somewhere in between heating up the parquet floor with an unqualifiable hot-blooded grace. The women melted into their partners’ arms while the men held them with taut, elongated electricity. The atmosphere was one of controlled sexuality threatening to explode below the surface. Both the men and the women were dressed beyond the nines. But the best dressed of the evening was an older “smooth operator” who bore a striking resemblance to the American actor Harvey Keitel. After an hour of observing the dance floor over café con leches served with fresh pastries, we noticed this gentleman had a penchant for partners markedly younger in age. When he eyed Astrid between sets, she clenched my hand under the table. “I could stay here all day,” Nedjelco said, biting into an oven-fresh palmerita. “I can see now how couples can stay married for fifty years,” I said, “or not.” “I love to come here with good people who want to share the experience.” Astrid said winking at us both. It was late by the time we left, and raining. I’d been told that Buenos Aires was the city that never slept, but we had a hard time finding a spot open on a Sunday night to fill our empty stomachs. After another drive down the Avenida 9 de Julio – this time everything looked diamond-encrusted in the rain – and three failed attempts at restaurants that were already closing for the night, we finally ended up at Romario’s, which serves the city’s best thin-crusted pizza. Another friend joined us and as we ate, we bemoaned the fact that two of us would be flying out in the morning. With the rain coming down and all the shared experiences packed into a few days time, a sense of pre-mature nostalgia began to take root. As we finished off the night over scoops of dulce de leche – one of the more celebrated treasures in Argentina’s culinary vault – at the ice-cream parlor Volta, I thought again of my last trip and how the mood of defiance and uncertainty had been replaced by a newly restored joie de vivre. (It has been predicted that the Argentine economy will grow at nearly three times that of the U.S. this year alone.) As we drove back through Old Palermo for one last night at the house that had become like a second residence, Astrid told me how much she appreciated the spontaneity of the city. “There are so many things to cherish here, so many cultures and attitudes and old stories,” she said. “Plus we are coming back now, so I will never leave. I never wanted to leave before… I feel rooted here but I can still flow.”

Special thanks to Kelley Blevins and the management of Livian Guesthouse. To learn more visit www.livianguesthouse.com.ar

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I believe in hard work mostly. At times I’ve worked for no money because I wanted to be on the project so badly.

I’m a non-traditionalist who is willing to take risks. Also there’s always a little undercurrent of insecurity even though I know exactly what I want.

My mother culture. When I used to design jerseys for the Argentine soccer team, it was always about how they looked. I would wake up early to buy the morning paper after a match just to check out their picture.

I wouldn’t know where to begin.

The profound influence of friends and family, especially my daughter Leyka. Describe one of your most soulful experiences. My wife’s pregnancy, waiting for my daughter to come out. Also getting married in Las Vegas when I cried. Things like having a wife and a child, once they happened, became holy.

Occupation: Creative Director and Founder of Prisa

Everybody has a calling. Architecture is mine. That I want to clean the most polluted river in the world; the Riachuelo - Matanzas,

that is located in the heart of our city. I have been working for the last ten years on the project DES-LIMITES, that proposes establishing the Olympics (2016 or 2020) in the area.

My parents who work in the public hospital, Gandhi, Yugoslavian partisans and my grandmother’s bees. Working every day to reach the goal of having the water of our rivers clean again.

Nothing. The sky and the polluted rivers.

The noise of the buses. Having my daughter Ana.

October 1997, after finishing the first stage of the project DES-LIMITES, we gathered in one of the very first and real rave parties in Buenos Aires: Underground Park.

Occupation: Architect

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People have a calling but most don’t answer it. A few fortunate ones do and then speak their minds. That’s what good artists do. I’m taking watercolor painting classes to see what happens.

Nobody hears what I hear. Releasing records is like putting out memories and that is very personal and unique.

Music, books, movies and especially conversations with others.

It’s totally irrational. Rooting for my football/soccer team even though they are dead last and might be playing in second division next year.

Not getting a table at El Obrero, one of my favorite restaurants in Buenos Aires, on a Friday night.

Buenos Aires, like New York, is a fantastic city. Great writers and musicians have lived here and left their marks. I think places are what you make of them and for me Buenos Aires is full of memories, which I’m always trying not to forget.

I consider myself both a New Yorker and a Porteño and at times I need to get away from both. When I’m in New York it’s like I’m cheating on Buenos Aires and the other way around.

Without question the birth of my children. Raymond Carver, an influence, says that nothing happened to him before his children were born!

Last March, the end of summer here, a couple of musicians and good friends from New York came to Buenos Aires. One night, after dinner, I took them for a drink to an old and very grand café called La Ideal. The place was full of dancers and several tango bands played until the early morning. To my surprise one of the groups to perform was the Leopoldo Federico orchestra, a legendary ensemble. We all agreed it was one of the most fantastic live performances we had heard in a long time. When we walked out it was almost dawn so we decided to go for breakfast by the river and watch the sun come out.

Occupation: Music Producer/Record Label Director

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I am a curious person but I don’t know if I have a calling. If I want to do it I go for it and take the best and the worst from that experience.

I can’t tell you if Kid Gaucho is unique…that’s for other people to say.

The London Police (artist), MK12, Lobo from Brazil, Stardust from the U.S. I love The Ramones and Jane’s Addiction. Also skating.

When I go out to paint I do it with passion. Also in Argentina we love to cook an asado or go to a football match. I think the South Americans have too much passion!

There are a few big cities in the world and Buenos Aires is one of them. You can find good women, good art, good music. You can find people from Latin America, Europe, Asia. We have so many cultures here… I never want to leave.

When I was in New York for the first time the Twin Towers collapsed, and the next week my grandmother died. My family is very catholic, so for me it’s the Virgin Mary and then my grandmother. 2001 was a hard year in Buenos Aires as well. The economy collapsed, people were looking for food in the streets. It was at this time that I painted my first canvas.

Once a month we do a big party where we start at midnight and finish at eight in the morning. Everyone who comes is involved in the arts and the vibe is so cool. We all wait for these parties like kids.

Occupation: Graphic Designer / Co-Founder Kid Gaucho

Certainly. Thank God I found mine. But what amazes me is that some people do not. If you’ve got the need you’re going to look but some people are happy not to.

The commitment my gallery has to the situation of nature being menaced and the social repercussions of that. It is unusual to come into an art gallery and receive this type of message. But for me it’s the most important one.

The fact that there are people still reforesting lands and keeping old knowledge alive. The whole ecological movement that followed the flower power movement was very influential. There are people working to protect the planet now and there is a whole tradition of humankind behind them.

The joy of life. What you need in order to get to know

your mind.

Something to do with La Boca, Palermo, Piazzolla and certain street corners.

Not much, but certain politicians make me work more than I like to.

Family in all of its ways: I have four sons. Certain silences in nature. And of course meditation.

Occupation: Tree planter and Founder of Arte Etnico

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More than a calling, I believe it’s a mission. It is related to the path you feel in your heart.

Love and creativity. Touching and transforming the textile. Making scenarios where the thread is manifested in itself. Working over a philosophy, or concept.

Context, experience, discovery and internal stories. An internal strength capable of not being extinguished for many years, sometimes

a whole lifetime. Mental blocking. Limits. Many times fear is based on a trauma from the past.

I was born in Buenos Aires and what makes me loyal to the city is the incredible coincidence that here is where most of the people I love happen to live.

The fact that sometimes I want to run away from the proximity of the people I love the most! Loving the same person for eight years

Summertime, friends, a roof-top party.

Occupation: Designer

I do. Mine has always been trying to show the other angle of a situation. That’s why I like to work in journalism and to shed light on stories that are generally forgotten.

I do not believe people are unique. I think loving what you do is a way of adding your own personal touch.

Social stories. I love traveling to countries and regions that are often underreported. However, on many occasions we just have to cover everything.

Doing what you love. Doing what makes you happy and that, in a way, can also benefit others. Routine.

It’s a great city, full of life, interesting people, good restaurants, and it’s where my family is. It’s far away from everything else.

During the war in Iraq, I was surrounded by death, and one little boy came over and offered me a flower. I’ll never know where he found it because there was nothing left.

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Occupation: Journalist

Making an instant of light and inspira-tion shine longer and expand towards others.

Intending to both write and make music. The mix of sweet and sexy charisma.

Falling in love (with anything). Enthusiasm and eagerness. Spring and summer. Nature. Holding an illusion. Feeling free. Despair.

You want me. I want you. You make me move. Oh, you are so restless, desire. But please, don’t leave me alone.

You can’t. You mustn’t. You won’t. You lost. I

was born here and I am totally devoted to Buenos Ai-res. I have traveled a lot but always come back to this feeling of being at home in a city that is fun, chaotic and where friends are the best mirrors of life.

Pollution, aggression, the economy.

. It was October 1999, the launching of issue #6 of a literary magazine Gary Pimiento and I used to do: I never never want to go home (Nunca nunca quisiera irme a casa). Everybody had a great time in this old Spanish-Arab ballroom. When the party finished we all clapped our hands for a long time. Happy together.

Occupation: Writer and Singer