Life is (Not) a Game

White mannequin mask, fiery red wig, voice disguised as the distortion: Laika (like the dog that was launched into space on Soviet Sputnik) has enlivened the walls of Rome in recent pandemic years with posters and murals that scream civil indignation (the best known is the one who imagines a hug between Giulio Regeni and Patrick Zaki). Two years of battles of the street artist with a mysterious identity, followed in his night outings by the camera of Antonio Valerio Spera, who mixes fragments of Laika's video notes with a pop spirit, interviews with the recipients of his messages, archive materials on the "hot" topics dealt with by the artist and, of course, his works. To relive these years through the eyes and talent of a woman who defines herself as "a Roman attacker" and demonstrates a profound moral and artistic awareness. White mannequin mask, fiery red wig, voice disguised as the distortion: Laika (like the dog that was launched into space on Soviet Sputnik) has enlivened the walls of Rome in recent pandemic years with posters and murals that scream civil indignation (the best known is the one who imagines a hug between Giulio Regeni and Patrick Zaki). Two years of battles of the street artist with a mysterious identity, followed in his night outings by the camera of Antonio Valerio Spera, who mixes fragments of Laika's video notes with a pop spirit, interviews with the recipients of his messages, archive materials on the "hot" topics dealt with by the artist and, of course, his works. To relive these years through the eyes and talent of a woman who defines herself as "a Roman attacker" and demonstrates a profound moral and artistic awareness. White mannequin mask, fiery red wig, voice disguised as the distortion: Laika (like the dog that was launched into space on Soviet Sputnik) has enlivened the walls of Rome in recent pandemic years with posters and murals that scream civil indignation (the best known is the one who imagines a hug between Giulio Regeni and Patrick Zaki). Two years of battles of the street artist with a mysterious identity, followed in his night outings by the camera of Antonio Valerio Spera, who mixes fragments of Laika's video notes with a pop spirit, interviews with the recipients of his messages, archive materials on the "hot" topics dealt with by the artist and, of course, his works. To relive these years through the eyes and talent of a woman who defines herself as "a Roman attacker" and demonstrates a profound moral and artistic awareness. White mannequin mask, fiery red wig, voice disguised as the distortion: Laika (like the dog that was launched into space on Soviet Sputnik) has enlivened the walls of Rome in recent pandemic years with posters and murals that scream civil indignation (the best known is the one who imagines a hug between Giulio Regeni and Patrick Zaki). Two years of battles of the street artist with a mysterious identity, followed in his night outings by the camera of Antonio Valerio Spera, who mixes fragments of Laika's video notes with a pop spirit, interviews with the recipients of his messages, archive materials on the "hot" topics dealt with by the artist and, of course, his works. To relive these years through the eyes and talent of a woman who defines herself as "a Roman attacker" and demonstrates a profound moral and artistic awareness.