Friday night was beautiful. In class, for our final peer presentation, a girl talked about all of the Graffiti in Granada, particularly by one anonymous, but professional Graffiti artist. I thought that was a fascinating topic, since I had noticed ever since first landing in Madrid the sheer amount of graffiti scribbled all over walls, storefronts, billboards, and more in Spain. It's everywhere! So, she talked about how some storeowners now hire professionals to paint their screens (there are these huge metal blinds that you pull down to close the shop at the end of the day), because no amateur or obnoxious Graffiti artists will overwrite genuinely excellent work. Our professor then told us about one plaza in Granada which is entirely covered in professional Graffiti works. Thus, for my date with Wolfang that night, I told him we were going to go examine the Graffiti, and then go to Plaza Einstein -- where the highest quality tapas within downtown Granada are located.
It was a lovely evening, full of wonderful conversation. After eating, we wandered down to El Parque Garcia Lorca, which is without question the most verdant section of Granada. Finding a secluded area, we sat down under a tree and launched into a conversation about the politics surrounding the decision to pull out the Mormon American missionaries in Venezuela. (This happened during Wolfang missions; he told a dramatic story about Hugo Chavez directly accusing "that American church of plotting a coup within the temple, and his threat to send the military to investigate.) Then he told me about the aftermath -- how as a whole, the church in Venezeula had been strengthened by the pull-out, because now all of the members have risen to the challenge of self-sustainability. Since the pullout, baptisms in his mission alone (there are 4 in Venezuela) had almost doubled.
Much to our surprise, the hours had flown by, and a security guard found us to (in a very friendly way) kick us out, because the park closes in the middle of the night. Not wanting to go home yet -- the night just felt magical -- we wandered down by the river and climbed the green marble steps of "El Palacio de Congresos" -- a convention center across from my apartment. From there we had a peaceful view of the entire city, even looking out in the distance to see the illuminated Alhambra. I reflected on the richness of my cultural experience here...and found myself wishing, wistfully, that I could have 1001 more nights in this ancient Moorish city, with new adventures to report at the end of each one.
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In Gainesville, they took a slightly different approach. There was one designated wall for graffiti. It was technically illegal to paint it, but everybody did anyway. Cheryl claims that even the police went out and painted a big section of it, demanding a raise.
Many people believe that this "protest zone" helped to minimize graffiti everywhere else. There were a few cool murals done on store buildings, but by commission.
The only "sacrosanct" spot on "The Wall" is the framed section listing the women killed in the Gainesville Murders of 1990.
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