I write today to celebrate the life and art of the Brazilian graffiti tagger Caroline Pivetta da Mota (1984–2023), known as Carol Sustos. Her artistic craft combined sharp, angular letters with raw, expressive energy that reflected the risks and rhythms of Brazilian metropolises.
Carol was part of the “pixação” movement, a form of urban tagging unique to Brazil, where “pixadores” (illegal taggers) scale buildings and leave striking, cryptic signatures for all the city to see. In a country where access to cultural resources is limited to an elite few, the unstoppable frenzy of the pixadores turns the city into a collective, open-air gallery.
Her trajectory was marked by a historic intervention in the 28th São Paulo Biennial and remains alive in the memory of art created on the margins of institutional spaces.
Carol entered the São Paulo Biennial Pavilion twice in her life.
The first time was on October 26, 2008, when she participated in an action with about 40 other graffiti taggers on the second floor of what became known unofficially as the “Biennial of the Emptiness”. Due to a curatorial decision, an entire floor of the 28th São Paulo Biennial was left without any works of art.
Uninvited, graffiti taggers from the outskirts of São Paulo decided to occupy this space with their art on opening day. Carol was the only woman in the group. She was also the only one arrested after the action [1].
The image of her arrest was broadcast on TV news across the country, sparking a major debate. Handcuffed and escorted by two military police officers who seemed twice her size, what stood out in that moment was the strength of her voice: "Sou pixadora mesmo! Viva a pixação!" she shouted [2].
That year, the Biennial’s theme was “In Living Contact.” At 23 years old, Caroline spent nearly two months incarcerated in the Santana Women's Penitentiary for leaving her group’s tag (SUSTOS) on the empty walls of Brazil’s premier elite art event.
It was inside that prison that we met and spoke for the first time [3].
Not only her imprisonment, but also the incisiveness of her speech, which was published in the Brazilian press, led to protests for her release, which eventually reached the upper levels of the Brazilian government.
“My work is for people to see and dislike. It’s a visual assault.”
After her liberation, much to the dismay of her persecutors, Carol not only continued to paint illegal graffiti, but also became a leader in the street art scene, denouncing sexism within graffiti culture.
Two years later, with a new São Paulo Biennial on the rise, the collective Carol was part of (PIXAÇÃOSP) agreed to show photos and videos of their work. Invited by the curators, she chose not to visit the pavilion where she had suffered such brutal and unjust violence.
The second and final time Carol entered the São Paulo Biennial Pavilion was in 2018, accompanied by her youngest daughter, Isis, then three years old. The 33rd São Paulo Biennial had the theme “Affective Affinities”.
It had been ten years since the historic intervention by the graffiti artists in that space. Caroline was working as an independent graphic artist and kitchen assistant on the outskirts of Porto Alegre, in southern Brazil. She remained active and admired within the illegal graffiti scene.
I asked her if she wanted to return to the Biennial Pavilion—she said yes. Carol wanted to show the place to her youngest daughter. She wanted Isis to know her story. Ever since the toddler learned to speak and paint, she had expressed the desire to become an artist like her mother [4].
When Carol passed away in 2023, the São Paulo Biennial, then hosting its 35th edition, did not state mourning. It also omitted any reference to her role in the institution’s recent and uncomfortable history. The theme that year was “Choreographies of the Impossible”.A striking contrast to the dozens of tributes the brave pixadora has received since then, especially from her peers on the street art circuit.
Writing this memorial text is one way to honor Carol’s memory. It is a tribute to her history and to an artistic practice marked by defiance and an unwavering desire for self-expression.
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- Footnotes
[1] Christina Roiter, “Pichação at the São Paulo Bienal: Art or Crime?,” The Art Section, no date, https://www.theartsection.com/art-or-crime
[2] I am a graffiti tagger! Long live illegal graffiti!
[3] Diógenes Muniz, “‘Picho para o povo olhar e não gostar’, diz jovem presa na Bienal,” Folha de São Paulo, December 5, 2008, https://www1.folha.uol.com.br/fsp/cotidian/ff0512200818.htm
[4] Fausto Salvadori, “‘Pivetta’: O que acontece quando uma rebelde vira mãe,” ponte.org, September 4, 2021, https://ponte.org/pivetta-o-que-acontece-quando-uma-rebelde-vira-mae/
Image:
Reproduced: TV Cultura (2008), Carol Pivetta during the intervention in the space of the 2008 São Paulo Art Biennial. Courtesy TV Cultura
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