PROVIDENCE, Rhode Island - A powerful three-decade-long performance has been taking place in Providence since 1985, all directed by one man. Umberto Crenca describes himself as a “visual artist, performance artist, and musician with a long exhibition and performance history.” His greatest and longest work is the on-going transformation of Downcity, Providence which started with the creation of an “alternative space” at 220 Weybosset.
In 1985, Bert, as he likes to be called, founded what was at the time a small room called AS220. Meant to serve as a creative hub for local artists, the space has now expanded into three large properties and will continue to grow. The Empire, the Dreyfus, and the Mercantile, house a collection of “58 artist live and/or work spaces, 4 exhibition spaces, a print shop, a media lab including a black and white darkroom - the only public one in the entire state - a fabrication lab, a stage, a recording studio, a black box theater, a dance studio, and a popular bar and restaurant.”
Currently, as creative director of AS220’s programs, Bert melds his passion for art and entrepreneurship into projects that benefit traditional artists, youth, and business owners from the neighborhood. He oversees the creation of public events and venues that foster a “sense of commons” for all members of the community. Bert believes that the city’s creative potential can promote a wholesome city fraught with music venues, art galleries, and bars.
For lunch, he visits AS220’s restaurant, “Foo(d),” with Sheyla Rivera, Director of Programs. Bert quickly decides his meal and orders “Scarface” off the menu, a hearty bowl of meatballs. Shey, as he calls her, takes a bit longer.
“She’s my successor,” he says with a tinge of pride as he casually takes a seat. After working at the organization for four years, Shey will take Bert’s role and continue the legacy of his work.
It’s not all about the titles though. Bert and Shey discuss business as if they are family, casually reviewing upcoming property investments. There’s an informality and friendliness between them that makes their meeting seem like a daughter and father lunch-date. In fact, she’s young enough for anyone to make that assumption.
“I have Shey catch-up news,” she says coyly, hinting at a story too juicy - perhaps dating-related - to be discussed in public. Showing interest with a slight smirk, he understands this and does not probe for details.
“Look at the stylish crew” she remarks, sliding the Providence Monthly magazine to Bert. AS220’s main staff, including Shey and Bert, is acclaimed for its organizational work and aesthetic in the magazine’s fashion section this month, highlighting them as hip local icons that do good while looking good. They softly smile at one another, humbly agreeing that they look pretty fashionable.
Yet nothing from his all-black outfit could define Bert’s style as well as his medium-length, white-faded, cone-shaped goatee. Occasionally molding its shape, he lightly compresses the hairs from its dense roots to its wispy tips.
An artist as well, Shey has mastered managing her own projects with those of AS220. Working at the organization is her “flow of life,” she says emphatically. Similar to Bert, her primary focus is performance and installation art, in which she exhibits an act or space as art. Much of her artwork is “site-specific,” which allows her to “intervene” and give new meaning to an already existing thing or place. Her projects at AS220 are no different.
Bert’s current role and Shey’s future one require them to make “political, strategic relationships with the community.” Shey calls it a job on “steroids,” in which she must “paint ASS20’s picture of impact, activities, and image” onto a pre-existing canvas in order to outline its mission for the Providence community, most importantly for local artists, youth, and business owners.
AS220’s effect has gone beyond providing traditional artists with the space and tools to create their own works without fiscal risk. Its youth program has given many young people an opportunity to express themselves artistically, keeping them preoccupied with cameras rather than guns and paint rather than drugs.
Bert recalls the gangs, violence, and drug use that dominated his Portuguese-populated hometown in Providence during the mid 1900s. He explains that young, impoverished, and ostracized immigrants, like his immigrant father in the early 1900s, felt in control of their city and their self through gang membership. Although risky, being in a gang allowed them make the rules of the streets.
Bert believes that the same power dynamic remains today and he wants none of it on his streets.
“The real gang is the police, and many young kids are demonized for being in gangs,” he says, stridently walking back from lunch. In the sun, his bracelets and rings subtly glimmer with small hints of teal as he emphasizes with hand movement. A large crescent-shape sharply protrudes from one ring and yet it looks so much a part of him it could be easily overlooked. The few tattoos on his arms and hands are even less evident. The most noticeable, ironically, requires a keen eye, or better yet an optimistic one, for many folk mistaken the word “hope” on the inner side of his right wrist for “nope.” “Nope, it’s ‘hope’” he says reassuringly.
Ridiculed as a “dumb Portugi” in his earlier years, Bert successfully discovered a way to own his identity and his urban landscape by making art rather than joining a gang. He has been helping others do the same ever since.
Bert claims that “AS220 envisions a just world where all people can realize their full creative potential” and share it with the community. This potential, however, needs support and exposure to start.
The Stable, for example, was a formerly window-tinted gay bar frequented by police for its suspected drug-activity before Bert bought the building and renovated its façade. He replaced its opaque windows with transparent ones and put its insides on display. By facilitating exhibition, he preserved the bar and made it more welcoming to the rest of the community. It’s now a popular, safe, and trendy gay bar.
“The next project will convert a run-down strip bar called ‘The Satin Doll’ into a performance theatre,” says Bert as he stands on Aborn Street, pointing to a relatively short, wide brick building. Although Bert is a prolific and skilled traditional painter, he is uniquely talented at working with existing walls and spaces in the way that renowned artists, such as Marcel Duchamp, converted found objects into art.
Today, it’s impossible for Bert to walk a block without running into a friend, business partner, or admiring acquaintance. He’s somewhat of a local celebrity and it’s hard to miss his stoic, arm-crossed stance, hoarse voice, or blunt quips on any street corner. It’s not surprising to hear him jokingly say things like, “ Guillermo doesn’t know shit about me! I haven’t had a chance to insult him yet,” about his new employees.
Back at AS220’s office, he stands, eyes perfectly aligned with the screen, reading something off his computer, which lies atop a box resting on his desk. No chair is in sight. A few of the many awards and plaques for AS220’s achievements are placed near his corner of the room, but what catches the eye is a collection of his line sketches on used sheets of paper. From afar, they look like swirls of black, heavy and light lines. Closer inspection reveals faces and voluptuous figures that appear human.
Bert remains a humble man, passionate artist, and levelheaded entrepreneur, stating that “AS220 is not a solution but a catalyst.” Engraving artistic change and urban improvement into the streets of Providence takes time. The show must go on and from the looks of it so far, there’s no doubt it will.