JR, by shaunyboy on Mar 31, 2009 13:02:53 GMT 1, www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/features/living-large-the-biggest-artist-in-the-world-1657832.html

Living large: The 'biggest artist in the world'

JR has turned the Kibera slums in Nairobi into a huge canvas for his work. Daniel Howden reports

Modern art is useful. At least it is for Doreen Achieng. A huge canvas featuring her eyes and shot by one of the hottest young artists in the world is stretched across the roof of her house. If nothing else, she says it helps to keep the rain out.

The black-and-white slice of Doreen's face, looks out on one of the most extraordinary sights on Earth, the Kibera valley – one of the heaviest concentrations of abject poverty anywhere in the world. And her eyes are not alone: dozens of others, all women's, look up from the corrugated iron rooftops at the railway line that cuts through the slum.

The images are the work of French artist JR, the self-styled "biggest artist in the world", whose supersized enlargements have adorned everything from the Tate Modern in London to the West Bank barrier dividing Israel and Palestine.

The boy from Paris who refuses to reveal his real name and used to do graffiti until, aged 17, he found a camera on a metro train, has been taking his monumental photography to some of the poorest places in the world.

He came to Kibera in Kenya's capital Nairobi at the end of 2007 to take photographs of ordinary women for his 28 millimetre project. At the beginning of this year he returned to paste their waterproofed portraits over the rootftops and wrapped around the train, so that, when it passes, twice a day for a split second their smiles on the slopes meet the eyes on the carriage, reuniting their faces.

That idea makes Doreen laugh. She's still in a good mood when she quips that the first beneficiaries have been the men. "When they come home drunk they don't have to listen to the rain on the metal and they can sleep very well."

She's only half joking.

An upright lady with a natural poise and confidence, she looks much younger than her 43 years – only a few threads of grey at the roots of her tight dreads reveal the passing years. Asked if she ever imagined her eyes as an artwork, she doesn't miss a beat: "Yeah, why not?" she replies.

Seen from above, the monochrome exhibition is undoubtedly beautiful, set off perfectly by the oxide red of the earth and rusted metal shacks. At ground level the scene is less abstract and less attractive. Naked children wander around the stagnant blue-black pools of sewage, and the only business underneath the art-clad roofs is the production of the lethal local moonshine.

No one seems to be aware that their roof canvas is worth many times more than their house. JR is among the most sought-after artists in the world and a single print of his sold for £26,250 last month at Sothebys in London. An average rent in the part of Kibera is around £7 per month.

Standing on the railway track with the eyes watching him, Bankslave, a graffiti artist who lives in Kibera, is untroubled by this. He describes what he sees as an "inspiration" and a "morale boost" for the community.

"It's art from out there. An extraordinary, massive piece of work. It's a nice experience for us to see something from the international guys."

Not everyone is convinced. As far as Catherine Katuti is concerned, the eyes are "no big deal for Kibera". While she can't raise much indignation at rich world artists using the slum roofs, the nutritionist with the Centre for Disease Control is not convinced that it does much lasting good either.

Kibera's real problem is that it's starved of food, not art, she argues. She has a project of her own dealing with this more urgent need, where she helps women grow vegetable gardens in old hessian sacks.

Calleb Ochieng knows about the precariousness of Kibera life. His wife, Jecinta, whose eyes adorn their roof, is inside recovering from the death of their first born. Velma lived for only one day before succumbing to a chest infection.

This sadness, he says, doesn't dampen his joy at seeing "the eyes of my wife" as he comes home.

Jane Auma, a 25-year-old mother of three, lacks the confidence of Doreen and admits that she would have been reluctant to see her whole face, but "it's only my eyes".

She smiles coyly as she remembers being photographed 24 times, but the real value for her is that, when the rain comes, it will no longer fall on her bed like it used to. The problem is that the rains haven't come. Kibera is like a clay oven during a dry season that doesn't want to end.

The eyes are now blurred by the same thick coat of red dust that dresses every surface in Kibera. Like everything else in Kenya, JR's installation is waiting for the coming of the rains.