A Deer, a Painter Time-Travelling in Lund

In the heart of Lund, where history whispers through cobblestone streets and university halls, an unexpected visitor leapt through time—Granizo, the white-tailed deer, following his ever-curious companion, Frida Kahlo. In a city known for its scholars and thinkers, the sight of a Mexican artist and her beloved deer wandering down ‘Hjortgatan’, the ‘Deer Street’, was a shock to all, as if fate had led them there in a twist of time and space.

Frida’s deep connection to animals is well documented, but Granizo was more than just a companion. He was a part of her, a creature of grace and vulnerability, mirroring her soul—elegant yet wounded, wild yet profoundly bonded to the artist who saved him. Together, they travelled through Lund's gardens and narrow alleyways and through time itself, landing wherever the heart willed. This time, their journey brought them to the lush greenery of the Botanical Garden, an unexpected haven where history, nature, and art intertwined, their bond growing stronger with each step.

But deer, with their charming antics and innocent mischief, always manage to steal hearts. What happens when a time-travelling heart meets a hungry herbivore? And what does Diego Rivera’s infamous cigar stash have to do with a church’s battle against relentless deer intruders? These are the whimsical twists and turns of Granizo's adventures that will surely entertain you.

Continue reading to uncover the whimsical tale of Frida, Granizo, and their most unexpected adventures—where art, history, and botany intertwine in a story that spans centuries and continents.

"Gourmet Tour of Lund

Through Lund’s old streets, he made his way,
A hungry white-tailed deer with no delay.
No scholar, no poet, no learned sage,
Just a four-legged glutton on a feasting rampage.

First stop: a garden, so lush and so grand,
Where roses and lilacs had met their last stand.
A nibble of tulips, a taste of thyme,
Oh, these Swedish herbs—simply divine!

Past cobbled alleys, through open squares,
Ignoring the stares and bewildered glares.
At the market, he pranced, with a gleam in his eye,
Spotting fresh basil—oh my, oh my!

Dandelions here, daisies just there,
Chomping through Lund without a care.
Lavender soft, oregano bold,
A mouthful of marigolds—pure floral gold!

In the Botanic Garden, he met his fate,
A buffet so grand, he could hardly wait.
With delicate lips, he sampled with glee,
Oh, the sweet chamomile was perfect for tea!

And just when they thought he’d finally stop,
He found raspberry bushes and chomped off the top.
Juicy and ripe, the berries so bright,
A perfect dessert in the soft evening light.

But trouble arose when the keepers appeared,
Waving their arms—"No deer allowed here!"
Yet Granizo, full and content as could be,
Trotted away, as carefree as he.

So, if your garden in Lund looks mysteriously bare,
And your flowers are gone, not a single one there,
Look to the wind, where a whisper may say—
“Granizo was here, and he sent his bouquet!” ”
Malmö, February 2025

Eternal Striders of the Golden Path
With over a thousand years of history, Lund is a city steeped in the past, a past that you can connect with. The first six hundred years belong to Denmark—an era mourned and missed by many. The magnificent 12th-century cathedral and the world-renowned university, established in the 17th century, have shaped the city's history and culture, making it a hub of knowledge and innovation. Charming cafés, lively pubs, boutique shops, and fascinating museums are within walking distance. There is also an old botanical garden that particularly intrigued Frida’s companions.

This paradise, known as ‘Botan’, has been part of Lund University in various forms since the 1600s. The lush park is home to over 7,000 species of flowers and trees from around the globe—a dreamlike storehouse for deer. In this context, it should be emphasised that time-travellers, both deer and humans, do not necessarily pass through an entrance to purchase a ticket but can land wherever they please. That’s precisely what Frida and Granizo had done, as she suspected the staff might have objections to letting a deer in. Apparently, the boundary is drawn for children accompanied by a guardian.

First, they enjoyed a stroll through Lund’s oldest quarters, bursting with floral beauty along the sidewalks and house facades in summer. In the picture, Frida leaps joyfully, her deer ‘Granizo’ bounding behind her. Their choice of ‘Hjortgatan’ (Deer Street) in Lund was no coincidence, as the name suggests. The street was named after the deer once roaming freely in the area, a tradition that continues today. The otherwise shy white-tailed deer felt almost at home beneath the stars.

Frida's love for her animals was profound. She often kept them as companions in Casa Azul, her home in Coyoacán, Mexico City. Granizo was one of the many exotic animals she surrounded herself with—monkeys, parrots, dogs, and an eagle, each with its affectionate name.

Frida had a large, lush garden at ‘Casa Azul’, her vibrant and iconic home in Coyoacán, Mexico City. The house served as a sanctuary for her, where she could find solace and inspiration. Granizo likely roamed freely in this garden, filled with tropical plants and vibrant flowers. Since white-tailed deer are shy yet social animals, he probably stayed close to Frida and found comfort in her tropical sanctuary, where she often rested when she was too ill to work.

Frida had a deep emotional connection with animals, viewing them as more than mere companions—they were extensions of her soul. In her diary and letters, she frequently expressed that animals were her steadfast friends, especially during times when she felt lonely or betrayed by people. Granizo was one of the creatures to whom she felt particularly connected.

In ‘The Wounded Deer’, a painting featuring Granizo with Frida’s face pierced by arrows, she conveys a profound identification with him. The wounded deer symbolises Frida's physical and emotional pain, while the arrows represent her challenges and betrayals throughout her life. She perceived herself as a wounded animal, perpetually pursued and tormented by pain and betrayal. She likely felt a special kinship with the deer, perhaps due to his vulnerability and grace.

Frida’s husband, Diego Rivera, also fondled animals, but his thoughts on Granizo remain unclear. However, he was known for possessing a more pragmatic view of animal care, contrasting with Frida’s almost spiritual bond with them. He enjoyed venison, a dish that Frida would have strongly declined.

There is a well-known photograph of Frida Kahlo lying in her bed, surrounded by her beloved animals—her large dog in the foreground and the young deer Granizo nestled closely beside her. Granizo’s small antlers indicate that he was still very young—among deer, referred to as a ‘fawn’.

The image captures Frida’s deep bond with her animals, mainly how she surrounded herself with them for comfort and companionship. Due to her severe health issues, she spent much of her time in bed, where her animals were always welcome.

The fact that Granizo is so young in the photograph shows that Frida cared for him early on. She adopted him as an orphaned fawn—hardly surprising given her love for animals and nature.

The image also reflects what is evident in her art—a profound connection between herself and animals, a form of mutual understanding that evokes empathy in you. Granizo, young and innocent, symbolises the fragility within Frida herself. These moments, captured on canvas, are imbued with tenderness and loneliness, with animals as her closest confidants. However, animals also need to eat—and Granizo and his kind do not always favour what humans appreciate. This was particularly true of ‘Hjortgatan’, which appeared to be a veritable buffet for him. Occasionally, he would pause to nibble on hollyhocks and other enticing delicacies.

Deer require a diverse diet of naturally growing forage. Blooming herbs, berry bushes, twigs, and leaves from preferably deciduous and coniferous trees form a natural and essential part of their nutrition. They thrive on variety—the more plant species they consume, the better their nutritional intake. They ravage newly planted forests, invade cemeteries, and nearly overwhelm one, as in a case near ‘Casa Azul’. The deer consumed so many plants that the cemetery management tried to drive them away. Each morning, staff had to collect the damaged flowers and replant new ones.

Advice flooded in for the distraught parish priest, even though the internet did not exist then. While ultimate responsibility lay with God the Father, the clergyman felt solidarity with the gardener and his workers. After consulting the Lord and his congregation during a sermon, there was always silence from above. However, the congregation proposed clever deterrent solutions—fluttering aluminium foil and discarded CDs strung up to reflect light and scare off the animals. These worked, at least until the deer realised that nothing occurred. Some suggested hanging unwashed sheep's wool among the plants, but since the wool was also desirable to humans, the balls vanished without the deer's help. Watering with garlic-infused water was another attempt—the garlic not only "perfumed" the plants but was absorbed, making them taste unappetising. Unfortunately, some deer seemed to develop a taste for garlic, rendering the method increasingly ineffective. Blood meal mixed with water proved more effective but was still not foolproof. Sprinkling cayenne pepper over the plants was costly. One solution, however, outperformed all others—Diego’s cigar butts. With Granizo in ‘Casa Azul’, such things were strictly forbidden anywhere except in ashtrays. The congregation received weekly deliveries, and the problem was resolved. A gold star in the priest’s journal and a promised place in heaven—despite being a communist, he was assured by the church father. Diego, of course, believed neither in heaven nor hell, but maintaining a good relationship with the local church proved helpful, even for a communist and atheist.

Diego’s murals are not found in any Mexican church. His mural art was primarily secular and political, often incorporating strong socialist, historical, and revolutionary themes. His works embellish public buildings, universities, government palaces, and cultural institutions.

As a matter of principle, Rivera refrained from painting religious frescoes in churches. On the contrary, many of his works critique the church and its role in Mexican history, particularly its connections to colonialism. However, his first public commission was an exception to this rule, even though the painting was not placed in a church.

Frida recounted, amused, Diego’s struggles with this commission. It occurred long before they became a couple, yet the fresco troubled him for years.

Diego Rivera’s fresco ‘La Creación’ (1922) adorns the interior of the ‘Anfiteatro Simón Bolívar’ at ‘Colegio de San Ildefonso’ in Mexico City. This was Rivera’s first government commission, and the fresco, covering over a hundred square metres, was created using ‘hot wax painting’ and gold leaf. The work is an allegorical composition featuring mythological and religious motifs, with figures over twelve feet tall, carefully adapted to the architecture of the room and the monumental pipe organ that once stood there. At the top of the fresco is a symbol that may represent the Holy Trinity, with blessing hands, echoing ancient Egyptian iconography of ‘Aton’, the creating sun.

Frida laughed as she recalled how Diego defended his artistic liberties in ‘La Creación’, emphasising that he had explored humanity’s connection to the elements of nature, crafting a fundamental narrative of human existence. He explained how he had adapted to the vaulted architecture of the room, the walls, and the niche that once housed the organ. This was his first large-scale mural, and he endeavoured to express authentic Mexican beauty through his figures.

The fresco contrasts Christian and European themes with a vibrant Mexican colour palette and diverse Mexican figures. This synthesis of styles and influences marked the beginning of Rivera’s contribution to Mexico’s post-revolutionary avant-garde art movement.

Finally, I shall allow Frida to recount how Granizo made himself highly unpopular with the local vegan society—by devouring their buffet, notably the fresh asparagus. Had they not been vegans, Granizo would undoubtedly have ended up on a plate, the preferred resting place for deer, according to many frustrated gardeners. Preferably served with redcurrant jelly, pan-fried potatoes, and roasted vegetables. A mushroom sauce would not have been a bad addition, either.

Despite all his mischief, Granizo left the earth naturally and now resides on Frida’s star. However, this time, he had been tempted to follow along—not least because of the many deer roaming freely or in enclosures throughout Skåne’s landscape.