The first time I experienced Latin Graffiti was in Mexico City. We had just gotten on the subway at the airport, and a few stops after us a young man got on with a set of loud speakers playing music out of his backpack. He was selling CD’s, so he would skip through the songs after about thirty seconds or so. Suddenly the train emerges from the tunnel to an above ground section, and as I stared out the window the vast city sprawled out across the valley. The colors were so vibrant, the walls of buildings, the cars on the street, and the people who moved around them. Everything was bathed in beautiful color. And with a wonderful sound track of Mexico’s hottest hits blasting through our rumbling train car I felt this amazing sense of adventure, and shivers sent down my back.

When I made it to Bogotá, a few years after Mexico, I noticed a similar latin explosion of color, but the graffitis seemed better. Most of them commanded your attention, their detail and size. It became obvious that these were works of art, created by muralists, and not just hooligans with paint cans. In Colombia, you’re surrounded by works of art! and they force their way into your life, changing your atmosphere, and the look of the entire city. …