Chapter 4 #2
Despite Christian’s enthusiasm, the next five locations were a mix of old wine cellars, parking garages, and one utility closet that was barely large enough for them to walk around inside of it, especially because it still housed quite a few utilities.
The most promising option they saw was an underground tunnel that the realtor claimed could connect all the way to secret tunnels under the Alhambra, even though Rafael had his doubts about the claim.
It was too narrow, though. They needed something small enough to feel intimate and large enough to fit a large number of people inside.
By the end of the day, Rafael was discouraged and embarrassed, though trying not to show it, but Christian was still flitting about the city happily, as if they hadn’t just spent the day in unkempt underground hell mouths.
“There’s always tomorrow,” Christian said, giving Rafael another pat on the back.
He couldn’t help but relax a little bit at the man’s jovial attitude.
At least someone was having fun. They walked back to where Christian’s car was parked at the last place, just as the sun was setting.
It was one of those days that forced Rafael to take the time to notice how beautiful it was, a rose gold sky shimmering over the dark outlines of the Granada skyline, the Alhambra on a hilltop in the distance, and faint music playing from one of the windows down the road wrapping them in an atmosphere of calm.
“Why’d you choose Granada?” Rafael asked. “For this underground exhibit?”
Christian looked surprised he would even ask.
“Barcelona has a Picasso Museum already, and there’s the Prado in Madrid.
In Malaga, where Picasso was born, they have the Museo Picasso.
Of course, there’s plenty of art to see here as well, but it would be something different and special to have the exhibition in Granada.
” Christian chuckled to himself. “And my wife was born here, so that might be the real answer to your question. This is my home.”
“I see.” Rafael swallowed. He did understand it. He’d just returned to Spain, and he knew what it meant to be drawn to the idea of home.
Christian barked his big laugh again, and Rafael couldn’t help but smile. “Well,” Rafael sighed, “tomorrow we go to Sacromonte.”
Christian clapped his hands. “Don’t despair, my friend. Sacromonte may be just what we’re looking for.”
Sacromonte was just what Christian was looking for, but Rafael couldn’t see it.
Usually, these things appeared in his brain as fully formed visions—the layout, the table settings, all the details that made his events truly unparalleled.
But when they walked into the cave house in Sacromonte, Rafael had no idea how it would be done.
Christian was like a schoolboy, running around and clapping with gleeful squeaks as they toured the property. Of course, the older man would be delighted by the culture and history of the place. Rafael barely knew him, but he could already tell this was just the kind of thing he would go for.
The cave houses in Sacromonte had a rich history indeed.
They’d been around since the 16th century when they were literally carved out of the hillside.
Historically, Romani families had lived there, and people still referred to it as the “Gypsy Neighborhood” for that very reason.
The cave houses provided shelter from persecution and were often a haven for groups that had been cast out from the city.
An intriguing history, and there was already a historic museum in the caves to tell it, but Rafael could see that Christian was thrilled with the prospect of the cave houses hosting his little artistic endeavor as well.
It was still home to a vibrant community that embraced art and the Flamenco.
It was off the beaten path, certainly, since you had to climb a hill or drive up a cliff to get there, and the potential site of Christian’s museum was tucked into the side of the white-washed hill, with a little door in the rocky cave that almost seemed to appear out of nowhere.
But that was just the thing. How were you supposed to hang paintings on the rocky curved walls of a cave?
Christian didn’t seem to think this was a problem, and after half an hour of bouncing around the rooms of the cave house, he returned to Rafael’s side and clapped his hands together, the sound echoing from the arched walls. “This is it!”
“Some of the paintings are quite large, though, aren’t they?
I don’t understand how we’ll display them.
” Admittedly, the space was larger than Rafael had expected, but he still wasn’t sure how it would work.
He knew plenty of people lived in these houses, and there were Airbnb rentals available for curious tourists.
There was a sense of coziness, a homey feel that was unique for the type of exhibit they were trying to create.
It was interesting, to say the least. However, filling it with priceless art was another matter.
“You’ll figure out something.” Christian clapped him on the back with enthusiasm. “I’ve been to one of your events. I know your work. I’m sure you can make this happen, and just look at this place. It’s secluded and different, tucked away into a cave. I don’t think there could be anything better.”
Rafael nodded as he looked around the space again.
Was it a cool setting? Sure, it was all the things Christian said, but for an art exhibit?
Even for a party? It would certainly have to be small and intimate.
And Rafael didn’t know anything about art, much less how to curate a museum’s worth of paintings and hang them on a cave wall.
He was in over his head, and there was no way around it.
But for his reputation, for his career, for his own sense of pride that wouldn’t allow him to go to Christian with his tail between his legs to admit there was no way in hell he could make this work, he needed to figure something out quickly.
Christian was already talking about a moving truck to get the paintings here as soon as humanly possible, but thankfully Rafael knew it would take some time.
The paintings had to be carefully packed in specially designed boxes filled with foam and packing materials, and even if Christian was eager to get things going, Rafael knew he wouldn’t risk rushing the process.
An unbidden image of Grace materialized in his brain.
He wasn’t sure why he had the vague notion that Grace would know just what to do.
She would know the paintings, she would know where to put them, she would be able to make this work somehow, if only she didn’t despise the entire idea to begin with.
“Come, Rafael,” Christian called, and he realized he’d been standing as still as a statue for several minutes. “Let’s go see the view.”