Our headquarters during our stay was in Roma Norte, but we wandered afoot a far piece from there. These snapshots of street art were gathered during those ramblings.
My grandmother, Thelma Virginia Tarrall Williams (1899-1999), did not believe in keeping her hands idle. She lived a long, long time so had plenty of time to crochet. Afghans. Afghans for her children, her grandchildren and even some of her great-grandchildren before retiring her needles. Aside from one that burned in our house in 1975, most of the coverlets probably still exist, cherished as family heirlooms.
Whenever I see a contemporary take on knitting or crocheting, such as the one cloaking the tree trunk above, I think what fun Grana would have had liberating her craft from the confines of domesticity into public spaces. I can almost hear her chuckling with pleasure over transforming a tree for all to see.
The serendipitous pleasure of encountering street art lies in the exuberant freedom of expression of its creators.
Postcards from Barton Springs 