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From NJ PBS Studios, this is NJ SPOTLIGHT NEWS WITH BRIANA VANNOZZI.

Hello, and welcome to a special edition of NJ SPOTLIGHT NEWS.

I'm Joanna Gagis.

We continue our journey through public art across the state with our digital documentary series, Painting Community.

The latest episode takes us to New Brunswick and tells the story of artist Albertus Joseph and his mural depicting the racial divide between New Brunswick and North Brunswick, dating back to the 1970s, and how the area has changed over time.

This is the first in a series planned for New Brunswick, illustrating scenes from the community's shared history.

Take a look.

So this is a fat cap.

See the gap there is really wide?

There's like a slit there.

So that's how you know it's a fat cap.

The spray comes out wider.

And there's all different types of caps with spray paint, right?

And you can see the same thing here.

We have the hole there, and that little tiny little slit right next to it, that's how you know it's a skinny cap.

But the skinny's like the clog in the hole.

See how much more paint's coming out?

So that's a fat cap.

We're all like limited editions.

I'm only going to make but so much art.

What's the point of being an artist in today's climate?

Art and life are one and the same.

You're constantly composing.

( MUSIC PLAYING ) The experiences that I draw on the most are the negative ones, or the perceived negative ones.

I liked to do graffiti like in the 80s.

I was in high school, I was a young kid, totally illegal, outside of something I would normally do, and I got caught by the cops.

They roughed me up, they sprayed the spray paint out of my hair, they kicked my butt, so that's why I don't do anything bad 'cause every time I do something bad, I get caught.

I had the worst luck in the world.

It's far better on the heart and the stress levels to do it legally, because then you can put a lot more into it.

As a kid, my father moved us to Suriname, South America.

So I lived in the rainforest.

We moved to Plainfield, New Jersey.

I considered it, but who considers being an artist when you're 18 years old and you don't have any examples of artists that are successful at making a living?

I get into Rutgers, into the engineering program, I almost fail out.

I changed my major to art, and I haven't stopped since.

( PIANO PLAYING ) The more experiences you subject yourself to, the more you have to draw from, and the more people you talk to, the more you have to draw from.

Life is not univocal.

I don't drink and I don't smoke, but I understand addiction because I know when something grabs you.

How you can't shake it.

It's like a monkey on your back, you know?

It's like constantly buzzing in your head.

Everything you see, you're framing as, "Oh, look at that color.

Look at that skyline."

And you're seeing these things through rose-colored glasses.

I'm sure you do it, sir.

Yeah, you do.

You're like, "Oh, that's a good shot over there.

Get some balls over there.

I would just totally take that."

( LAUGHTER ) I don't do clubs.

I don't do bars.

I don't do any of that stuff because I'd rather be home making art.

Everything is a distraction if you're not doing what you're supposed to be doing.

We're here in front of Memorial Stadium.

We're New Brunswick High School's football team plays.

We are in the final lap of getting our most recent mural completed.

CoLab's mission is to create projects and programs that directly connect our local community with artists who create really beautiful, provocative work.

We'll typically advance a project two years or more.

We've been working with Rutgers University's Department of American Studies to document the historic district split between New Brunswick and North Brunswick Township back in 1973.

There was a displacement of the historic black community and they've largely left the city.

And what we do have now is a new generation of Latino immigrants coming from Central America and Mexico.

There was a breakup between the two municipalities right after the Civil Rights Movement.

Basically, everybody that lived in North Brunswick was of one persuasion, everybody that lived in New Brunswick was another persuasion.

The mural depicts the oral testimonies that were given.

It's about a guy teaching younger Latinos about old New Brunswick.

The reason why things like this take so long is the narrative is complicated.

There's a lot of love for this area.

There's a lot of history for this area.

It's really exciting.

In one way, it is an ending of a process and a project, but because of the future plans for this facade, it's also the beginning of a very long, exciting process.

Essentially, we're gonna be spending the next decade planning out new installations that are going to document the history of the city, going all the way back to indigeneity, and then leaving the last couple of panels open for someone for the next 50 years to decide what should be designed.

[ PIANO PLAYING ] It's kind of an honor to be invited into somebody's space, specifically in New Brunswick, and I'm not being paid to say this.

The people at Collab Arts go above and beyond.

There's a lot of bureaucracy involved.

Most of it I understand.

They have to make sure it doesn't upset the denizens or the people of that neighborhood and you have to make sure it's not offensive, gang-related or violent.

So then you go from like limitless and your world starts shrinking.

So any idea you have that's outside of the box, you have to think of a witty way of saying something or hiding something in the work.

We try not to shy away from social justice messages.

And those have led to some questions or points of tension, but never in a way that has created an obstacle from us doing work in the future.

- You feel like you're in a box because you have to behave yourself.

And artists don't like to behave themselves.

You see just how much you can get away with.

Artists don't like to be marginalized.

You have to work within the lines.

So this is sort of like a, you know, like, I'm gonna write what I want to write.

There's sort of like my graffiti kind of background creeping in.

Basically what you do is you mark up the wall and then you use that as points of reference.

I'm going to superpose an image over the wall and then all the letters from the poem are guidelines to where the lines of like the face, the eyebrows, the nose, like the contour of her chin, I could just sketch it right out.

This one, it's just a poem that just always stuck with me.

It's very poignant.

Sometimes I put a song up there.

I could have just wrote A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L... Sometimes I do that, 'cause I just need to mark the wall up.

The last time I wrote, it was Shakespeare, you know, Butts off, light through, yonder window breaks, 'cause I'm a hopeless romantic, I think.

[ LAUGHTER ] They didn't like it.

At first I got the cops called on me, and he was like, we got a call that somebody's writing poetry on the wall, and I was like, oh, that's perfect.

Cop and I got a good laugh, and then I got more calls, and then I got a visit from a security guard from across the street, and then I got jeers and looks from the people across the street.

If this was a transfer, it'd be gone in like a day.

Who goes to deface something with a machine with caution tape?

Like, who does that?

So then the cop's like, "Hey, that's got to come off the wall."

It's gone on up to as high as it can go, and they're threatening, like, canceling the project.

With the city, you're sort of putting the plane together while you're flying in certain respects where you push on what is acceptable, and people come along with you to a certain extent.

It's something to laugh about.

I am sorry that I made people uncomfortable, but isn't that the purpose of good art, is to make people uncomfortable and get them to talking and maybe engage, maybe go home and talk to your kids about what that says.

I think there was a little bit of curiosity with this project and process, simply because it's a new mural in an area that hasn't really seen them before in the city.

It's on property that is very meaningful and important to a lot of community members.

And it's directly across the street from the middle school, which was the historic high school that the story that we talk about this district split references.

But when you start to engage the fuller, larger community, questions come up.

And we're always happy to have conversations once those happen.

But I get it.

This isn't my neighborhood, and you should be aware of what people in that neighborhood want.

It's a privilege to be invited into somebody's home, right?

[ MUSIC PLAYING ] I think public art is absolutely necessary.

There's this need to be a part of something, especially to show inclusion for the people that live there.

The oral poem that's going to go on the bottom part, that was written by a middle schooler from across the street getting ready to go to high school.

She wanted to be represented and feel like she's part of the community.

And that's really why I'm doing the mural, because I love the poem.

It's an honest take.

High school's a microcosm of everything.

When you're capable of being anything you want to be, do not let others dictate your fate and write your story.

Be a shield that protects others.

Here is where your story begins because this is where you're supposed to be.

I like that she made a feeling of anxiety and turned it into something positive.

How more artistic can you get than that?

We should be conscious, but conscious has a very high cost.

[ PIANO PLAYING ] I quit every day.

Something inside of me says, "I don't need this."

It's like this whole mountain of stuff that happens outside, and then you have to deal with the bureaucracy, and the red tape, and the feelings.

Day in and day out, the struggle is real.

And I do it all again because I've worn many hats, and this is the most fulfilling by far.

Street art does have a purpose.

Like, it really does feel good.

It's a multi-tiered escapism.

It's a window or doorway to like a zen experience.

Everything quiets down.

It's rewarding.

You are bringing some awareness to the citizens that they are being considered.

To a certain extent, you can look at a city as a canvas.

There's always more to do, and that's sort of how I feel about New Brunswick.

I see really great work that I love, and I'm always excited about the next opportunity.

In face of all the other pressures that we have to deal with, you know, mortgage, politics, religion, you have to juggle what really gets you going and what resonates within you, you know, as a person who's struggled.

[MUSIC] This mural project has highlighted the power of art to create conversation and increase awareness in the community.

I'm joined now by the artist himself, Albertus Joseph.

Albertus, so good to have you with us.

Thanks for being here.

You worked on this project in New Brunswick called the Neighborhood Revitalization Mural.

What was the inspiration behind that project?

It was in commemoration of the 50 years of separation of two municipal school districts, North Brunswick and New Brunswick in 1973.

You approached that by creating the vision of a storyteller.

You yourself are a storyteller.

How did you tell that story in such a simple picture?

And not simple in terms of the art, but just simple in terms of how you kind of communicate this major historic divide in one mural.

Well, it was actually a collaboration of sorts with the team at Colab Arts and myself and two or three, I think three people.

So we were bouncing ideas off of each other and then trying to find the imagery that would fit the story and all the work that they did before, you know, community outreach and talking within the community to see what would fit that neighborhood.

And when we look at that picture, what are we looking at?

What are you telling us right there?

Well, the story is that the older generation of New Brunswick welcoming in, teaching the newer generation about the history of the school districts.

- I love the process for you of the graffiti as part of kind of your framework of the image that you want to create.

And of course, it was fun to watch.

You have to undo the graffiti in this experience.

Why graffiti?

Why do you approach it that way?

- I guess it's a little bit of angst.

It's something that I kind of put it down there for to be positive.

But graffiti is looked at very negatively.

I like to adjust the position between the two ideas, writing something very positive, but it being very negative, at the same you know, the collision of ideas.

- These paintings and these painting community projects really focus on public art.

What is public art to you?

- Public art.

Public art is anything that the public is comfortable with, whereas as opposed to studio art, where you're trying to make people think or the goal is to make people uncomfortable.

- Is that your goal?

- In my work, in order to force a conversation.

So public art is a lot more accepting and thoughtful, thought-provoking, but safe.

So, in your work, if it's not for public consumption, your goal is to provoke, in a way.

Yes, to bring about something, you know, through shock and awe or, you know, to show differences or to make some kind of commentary on some kind of idea or feeling that I'm having at a particular time.

Explain that a little more.

Give us an example of the types of conversations you try to create.

Within myself or within the public?

Within yourself, in your artwork.

Well, it's a, you know, life is a struggle, dealing with current events and internal events, trying to reconcile the two.

And then at the same time, doing something seemingly innocuous and not connected to anything, but yet it is.

Do you understand what I mean?

I do.

And that there's a huge burden put on the artist to represent life in the present or wherever they're creating, yet that burden is also that realization is also felt by the artist as a burden.

So when you take that and you bring it into a public space, how do you tone it?

How do you create it palpable but digestible?

Well, you kind of dumb it down a little bit.

You make it simple, you make it easily readable, you don't want to be too cryptic.

Even though I love being cryptic, I love this whole kind of cryptic stuff in there.

You know?

- Give us an example in this New Brunswick painting.

What's cryptic there?

What was very cryptic was the transfer, how I did the graffiti in the beginning, and then I did the painting on top of it.

The graffiti was from a poem, a very positive poem, but it was received very negatively, because it was seen as graffiti.

So I kind of love I can't say why, but I don't know.

I just loved the drama of it.

You know, it created something that just got me going, you know.

So it got you going, but it got the police going as well.

It got everybody going.

It got the community going.

What did they make you do there?

They made me paint it out and then only add what as I went along instead of doing the whole wall.

And I knew that might be contentious, you know?

Is that the fun part for you?

Being a little contentious?

Absolutely, yeah.

You say that graffiti is a selfish art form.

Explain that.

Well, my graffiti friends are going to not like this.

But in terms of what it is, it's a text, you know?

It's typographical, it's text.

It's rather self-serving because most graffiti artists do different versions of their own name or their street name or whatever cred name they're using.

And it's reproduced over and over and over.

And then there's the element of legal walls versus illegal walls, you know, the euphoria or the fun that they have in doing something that's illegal or, you know.

But you take that and you try to spin it into something that's positive, and it's a part of your public art.

Yeah, because as a street artist, I only do legal wolf.

And I only delved in graffiti as a kid for a very, very short period of time.

I got snapped out of that real quick.

And not to say there's no money to be made, or not to say that there's not any money to be made in graffiti, but there's a lot more money and it's a lot more lucrative to be a studio artist, or 'cause it's more long-lasting.

You've done similar projects to this New Brunswick mural in other regions.

You've done Brooklyn and the Bronx.

What inspires your work when you're looking at a wall to make this artwork that's going to be consumed by the public?

That's a good question.

I usually have to, usually whatever I have planned, goes out the window as soon as I get to the wall.

And then I usually, if it's like a festival, there's other art, or I have some interactions with people on the street, then I try to go with something that's more, I don't know, whatever the feeling is at the time.

- Representative of that community?

Representative of the community, conscious of the community.

And if it doesn't fit, it doesn't fit.

Do you scrap it and start over?

I just do, yeah.

Your backstory is really interesting.

You were born in New York, moved to Suriname at the age of five, where your father grew up, then came back to New York for a short time, then to Jersey.

- Yep.

- How did those experiences shape who you are right now?

Wow.

Yeah.

To this day, it's profound, having been a boy, a little boy from Queens, moving into the rainforest of Suriname, even though we lived on the outskirts of Patamaribo, which is the capital city of Suriname, but then speaking English at home.

So I was a bilingual in another country, you know?

And then I was an American, dirty American.

And yeah, it was quite the experience growing up, seeing the rainforest as a New Yorker, and then, you know, finally getting comfortable and having to leave because of the political climate, and then coming back to New York.

You also, originally you said your dad was your hero, and you tried to follow in his footsteps, but it just wasn't your calling, and eventually you had to walk away from that and find your passion, which was art.

Explain how you got there.

What was it about art that finally hooked you?

Well, my mom was an artist, so we did art in the house.

It was a normal thing.

I thought everybody did it.

I think most kids do it in the beginning, you know, but we just kept doing it and doing it and doing it.

And then I had older brothers and sisters that were, you know, older than me, so they were better than I was, so it was a little bit of a sibling competition, so, you know, just keep at it, keep at it, keep at it.

But when did you know that this would be your career?

When I flunked out of college.

- At Rutgers University?

- I was .9 GPA, I was like you know, I don't know.

And you said engineering is not for me, I'm moving to art.

How did your dad take that?

Well, we were watching the World Cup.

And I was nervous.

And I was waiting for, you know, soccer.

There's like no you have to wait until halftime to get a break.

So I was hoping that his team was going to win or, you know, he'd be in a good mood.

And when I had my chance, I told him, and he just kept looking at the television, and he goes, "If that's what you want to do, do it."

And it was like a weight, like, taken off.

I was like almost having an epiphany, you know, like, "Wow, it was that easy."

He was so accepting of it, which I did not.

My father's a very unpredictable man, but... Let me ask you this.

When you look at the work that you've done and you look at the work that you continue to do or plan out, do you see art as a form of public service?

Yes.

- How?

To bring in many ways, to bring awareness to certain things, to beautify a neighborhood, to bring awareness to cultural relevance, civil responsibilities.

You know, the list goes on about, you know, being a patriot or finding some connection or beautifying a neighborhood, et cetera, et cetera.

- And specifically in this New Brunswick project, what do you hope people who walk by, passersby, take away from the work?

- Well, that's a difficult one, because it's not a gotcha kind of a mural.

It's more of a historical learning thing.

The ideology behind it is softer, but it's really meant for the kids across the street, which are the middle school, about to go into the high school.

The poem on there is from a middle schooler at the time.

I'm sure she's in high school now.

So it's really about those children feeling comfortable in their newfound home or their home away from, you know.

- Their home away from home.

- Exactly.

- Unfortunately, we don't have any more time, but I really appreciated having this conversation with you.

Thanks for having me.

That's going to do it for us.

You can check out the Painting Community documentary series at myNJPBS.org.

I'm Joanna Gagis for all of us here at NJ Spotlight News.

Thanks for watching.

We'll see you next time.

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- Have some water.

Look at these kids.

What do you see?

I see myself.

I became an ESL teacher to give my students what I wanted when I came to this country.

The opportunity to learn, to dream, to achieve, a chance to belong, and to be an American.

My name is Julia Toriani Crompton, and I'm proud to be an NJEA member.

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