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Just after sunset on one of the first mild nights of spring, Richard Reynolds parked his hatchback near a traffic circle in the London neighborhood of Hoxton. Tied to his roof were a potted honeysuckle and a dozen box hedge plants, spilling out of garbage bags. Trays of bright white Paris daisies filled the trunk, and cartons of variegated ivy were wedged in the passenger seat. Hipsters drank indifferently outside a nearby pub.
The car was swiftly unstuffed. Soon Reynolds and five accomplices were over a short black fence and onto a small, squalid crescent of land at a bend in the sidewalk. They were ankle-deep in food wrappers and beer bottles and the spindly overgrowth of a bullying bush that Reynolds — bent over, wearing work gloves and high black rubber boots — started clipping fervidly.

“The problem is, it got too leggy,” he said. “This is the kind of plant that needs to be thinned every year, otherwise it becomes a scraggly mess.” The shrub along the rear fence was in fine shape, however, and Reynolds imagined it could be pruned and incorporated into their new garden. “That’s a buddleja. A buddleja davidii. Its common name is a butterfly bush,” he explained. (He takes a horticulture course one day a week in Regent’s Park.) “It has huge, very pendulous blooms.”

Reynolds is 30, long-limbed and willowy, with a floppy pile of dark curls. For the next several hours, as he and his troops reclaimed this lost crumb of London, people — young and old, lucid and drunk — would pause on the sidewalk to stare or cheer them on. Many asked if this was what they suspected it must be: the vaguely political, very radical thing they’ve heard is happening around the city. And this being artsy Hoxton — “the Williamsburg of London,” as one American ex-pat put it to me — what seemed like every third passerby photographed the spectacle for his blog.

But here at the outset, trash was being handed out of the thicket, then sorted into bags of recyclables by more foot soldiers. Full dumpsters were rolled across the street and swapped for empty ones. Someone found a wallet. Reynolds stood up holding a stainless-steel sink. A young woman in a green jacket with horses printed all over it stopped to ask what they were doing.

“We’re gardening,” Reynolds told her.

“Who are you gardening for?”

“For everyone and ourselves,” he said. “We’re guerrilla gardeners.”

Reynolds defines guerrilla gardening as “the cultivation of someone else’s land without permission.” He didn’t invent the term or the tactic but has become, as he puts it, “a self-appointed publicist for the movement” and the breadth of impulses and ideologies behind it.

Last week he published a book, “On Guerrilla Gardening.” It’s a political history of people growing things where they shouldn’t — from Honduran squatters to the artists and students he credits with originating the term “guerrilla gardening” in New York City in the early ’70s. During the city’s financial crisis, the self-styled Green Guerillas began cultivating derelict lots around the Lower East Side, either by clipping barbed wire fences or chucking “seed bombs” over them — Christmas ornaments or condoms filled with tomato seeds, water and fertilizer. After early confrontations, the city ultimately gave in and legitimized many of their plots into one of the country’s first community-garden programs, staking a claim for green space before gentrification vaulted the value of all that abandoned land.

Today, rifling through the multitude of guerrilla-gardening Flickr pages and blogs — discovering all the action in Amsterdam, Calgary, Turin, Tokyo or Long Beach — you can almost start to see this kind of vigilante greening as the instinctual human response to city living. In “On Guerrilla Gardening,” Reynolds describes gardeners he has met around the world through his own blog, guerrillagardening.org. (Its forum, where guerrillas plan “troop digs” and exchange advice, now has more than 4,000 registered users.) These include a sunflower specialist in Brussels; a founder of an unsanctioned community garden currently fighting eviction from vacant lots in Berlin; and the San Franciscans who converted disused properties into vegetable gardens, even pirating absentee owners’ water. Reynolds’s book is also full of references to horticultural “sleeper cells” and “shock and awe” plantings, and culls tactical advice from the writings of Che Guevara and Mao Zedong — though “I think Mao comes across far more kindly than I intended him to,” he told me regretfully.

Reynolds has helped build 28 gardens around London over the last four years. Unlike many guerrillas I spoke to, he is not building big community gardens, growing food or hijacking neglected, privately owned land to critique the capitalist system. Instead, he is planting strictly ornamental arrangements of flowers and shrubs on roundabouts, roadsides, tree pits and other slivers of public land that have fallen into disrepair. He is fundamentally an aesthete. And at first glance, there’s a confounding innocence to it all. Yet Reynolds has managed to stir controversy and, very recently, found himself surrounded by the police. He is quickly becoming both a subculture celebrity (Adidas sent him a treatment for a guerrilla-gardening-themed ad campaign) and a public intellectual, challenging ideas about what it means to live in a city — simply by decorating one.

reportegem completa aqui
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/08/magazine/08guerrilla-t.html?ref=magazine

vamos começar ???????
 

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Interessante, mas é uma pena que muitos lugares de nossas cidades não possuam espaço para plantar algo nas calçadas e afins.
 

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O bairro que eu to morando parece uma selva de tantas arvores e flores que tem nas calçadas, seria um pouco assustador em uma noite sem Lua ficar perdido em uma dessas ruas se a eletricidade acabasse.
 
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