Via Pericolosa

I’m no stranger to graffiti. Their moving galleries speed by at break-neck speeds back home, each on its way to block morning traffic in some unlucky part of town. Bathroom walls sing of woe, victory, and hatred. Downtown Shreveport might as well be the Uffizi Gallery with the amount of graffiti strewn about. 

But graffiti in Perugia (and all of Italy, for that matter) is different. The actual content remains the same: political messages, “I wuz here,” simple cartoons, illegible words in big block font, and, occasionally, breathtaking artworks. The difference is in where this graffiti is and how it makes you feel. In America, graffiti is where you won’t get caught: train tracks, dark alleys, the mostly-abandoned downtown. In Italy, however, graffiti holds its head up high and marks nearly every building, street, and municipal box in sight. 

I will admit that I was afraid to come to a city that I knew would have so much graffiti. Back home, seeing graffiti in the wild is a sign that you need to get out quick. If I saw a street sign with the word “danger” on it in the United States, I would have peed myself and fled. Now, Via D——- (or Pericolosa, according to one graffiti artist) is my preferred walk home. After all, what “danger street” in America has a long-haired orange cat that peers curiously down at you from a second floor balcony and a beautiful archway? Graffiti in Italy is not a mark of rebellion or a way to incite fear; it’s an artist’s gift to those who pass by. They may ask for you to agree with their political stance, or show you a fun cartoon, or maybe they just want you to recognize them. To know they exist. To see their mark that they have left on our world. 

I was no stranger to graffiti, but now I’m a friend of it.