Spain’s housing crisis finally hit the tenants of Calle Tribulete 7 in Madrid when their building was sold to an investment fund. Feeling pressured to leave because of rising rents and aggressive construction work that flooded some apartments, they did everything they were supposed to do: held meetings, contacted the tenants’ union, and found a lawyer. They also protested, spoke to journalists, and created an Instagram account to spread the word. But they also did something I’d never seen before.
They opened their homes to the public and invited musicians to play inside—right in the flats and shops that were suddenly at risk. A month later, they flipped this idea on its head and moved their furniture out onto the street. There, the tenants cooked, knitted, played chess in their dressing gowns, worked from home, and swayed in their armchairs to a local band playing a brass version of “Freed from Desire.” It was a spectacular theatrical performance of everyday life, but also a fight for their survival.
In the years after the 2008 global financial crisis and the Spanish housing disaster that followed, the country’s activists have slowly changed their approach. Back then, banks and their reckless mortgage loans were the main problem, and the frontline was led by the Plataforma de Afectados por la Hipoteca (PAH)—the organization that made Ada Colau famous and helped her become mayor of Barcelona, and that helped stop countless evictions. Though the PAH is still relevant today, the Spanish housing crisis of the 2020s involves domestic and foreign investment funds, like Blackstone, buying up entire residential buildings—some with a hundred tenants inside.
The media’s portrayal of Spain’s housing crisis has also evolved. For decades, photographers like Olmo Calvo and Alberto Astudillo have documented the most brutal cases: armed police breaking down doors, personal belongings piled on sidewalks, grieving parents trying to shield their traumatized children. But a new style of coverage is emerging—one that celebrates the community under threat, hoping that celebration can inspire citizens to mobilize and protect the right to a decent home.
This is exactly what I and fellow documentary filmmaker Elisa González have been involved in for two years in our own neighborhood of Lavapiés in central Madrid. From that first day of living-room concerts, we realized we weren’t just documenting Spain’s housing crisis—we were witnessing the birth of a new social movement.
The tenants of Tribulete 7 are a typical cross-section of Lavapiés society: young families, pensioners, single women, migrants, teachers, healthcare workers, writers, actors, musicians. They are all deeply woven into the cultural fabric of Lavapiés—a neighborhood known for its creativity and history of resistance. So when their homes came under threat, they instinctively used the tools they had: their social and cultural capital. That’s how an apartment block in Madrid became a stage, broadcast on every news channel.
Nani, who lives on the second floor of Tribulete 7, runs El Elemento, a DJ collective for people with disabilities. One of her star performers, DJ Jessy, played at the residents’ first musical protest, inside the now-closed shoe shop in the building. DJ Jessy’s popularity also brought her to the biggest stage of Madrid’s neighborhood festivals, organized by the city council. But Nani is worried about the group’s future if they are forced out of the neighborhood. The council is happy to promote local culture, but takes little interest in solving the housing crisis that will ultimately destroy that very cultural fabric.
Worse still, critics say Madrid’s recent planningReforms that were presented as a way to regulate tourist accommodation have actually made it easier to turn entire residential buildings into tourist rentals, just by changing a license. Lavapiés, located right next to the city center and its attractions, already has one of the highest numbers of unlicensed tourist rentals in Madrid – and this situation is likely to get worse. Unsurprisingly, one of the first buildings in Madrid to fall victim to this conversion is just around the corner from Tribulete 7.
For the residents of Tribulete 7, the fight continues. After years of campaigning against their new landlord, the tenants and their tireless lawyer, Alejandra Jacinto Uranga, filed what could become Spain’s first successful lawsuit against an investment fund for alleged real estate harassment – the building’s owners deny this and are fighting the case. Beyond this groundbreaking legal battle, the protests, and the viral concerts, the tenants of Tribulete 7 are tapping into something even more important: community care.
I’ve watched with admiration how the tenants have brought the entire neighborhood together, giving people a sense of purpose and shared joy in the middle of one of Europe’s most severe housing crises. We’ve tried to replicate this same spirit when organizing free local community screenings of our documentary Soy Tribulete 7.
One of my favorite screenings so far was with DJ Jessy at the local nightclub Club 33. After the film, DJ Jessy and her crew took over the DJ booth, and the neighborhood tore up the dance floor. It was a moment that made me realize that culture isn’t just a reflection of resistance – it is resistance itself, and it’s part of Spain’s new fight for the right to good, affordable, and secure housing for everyone.
Leah Pattem is a multimedia journalist based in Spain.
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Frequently Asked Questions
Here is a list of FAQs based on the article The most beautiful act of resistance Ive seen tenants in Madrid taking on landlords with art by Leah Pattem
BeginnerLevel Questions
1 What is the main point of this article
Its about how tenant groups in Madrid are using artlike street murals performances and creative proteststo fight back against rising rents and unfair evictions Theyre turning housing struggles into a public beautiful form of resistance
2 What does taking on landlords with art actually mean
Instead of just shouting at protests tenants create eyecatching art to draw attention to their cause It makes people stop look and think about housing problems in a new way
3 Is this just about painting pretty pictures
No The art is a tool for organizing It helps tenants find each other builds community and puts pressure on landlords and the government by making the housing crisis impossible to ignore
4 Who are the tenants doing this
Theyre ordinary people living in Madridstudents families workers retireeswho are part of local tenant unions Theyre not professional artists but they work with artists to create the protests
5 Why is this called beautiful resistance
The author argues its beautiful because its creative joyful and builds solidarity It turns a scary lonely fight into a shared public and even hopeful act
AdvancedLevel Questions
6 How does this art actually help tenants win concrete victories
The art generates media coverage and public sympathy which puts political pressure on local councils For example a colorful rent strike banner or a satirical parade outside a landlords office can shame them into negotiating It also makes it harder for the police to evict people when the whole neighborhood is watching and protecting the building
7 Whats an example of a specific art action mentioned in the article
One example tenants created a human chain of colorful paper houses each representing a family at risk of eviction They then marched these paper houses through the streets to the city hall turning a statistic into a
