kellycrull.com - expat life in Spain

If you’ve been to Retiro Park in Madrid, particularly on a Sunday afternoon, you may have been too busy watching a puppet show, splashing around in a rowboat, or snapping photos of your little ones with Mickey Mouse to notice the park’s most obscure attraction.

However, had you walked along the lake on Salón del Estanque through Plaza de Honduras and down Avenida de Cuba, you would have found yourself face to face with the only statue in the world dedicated solely to the devil. Meet the Angel Caído (The Fallen Angel).

Click image to enlarge.

I’m not sure what you would have expected the devil to look like, but you might not have expected a statue like this one. Unlike the comics, this devil has no hooves for feet or horns on his head or a pointy tail, which, had the sculptor considered it, would have been particularly relevant in a country where snorting beasts with horns chase down people in the streets on a regular basis.

If you’d had some time to consider what a Spanish devil might look like, or if you’d recently spent an afternoon at the Reina Sofia, you might have expected this Spanish devil to look more Picassoesque than anything else—mismatched limbs, mixed-up face, bloated features—enough to make anyone believe in monsters.

In actuality, this devil is a Hercules type—a real pretty boy. He’s clean-cut, nude and ripped with muscles. He’s got wings like an angel. He’s horribly beautiful. You could easily mistake him for a good guy—for one of us.

Don’t let yourself stare too long or you might begin to feel bad for him. Of course, he does look harmless enough. He’s obviously having one of the worst days of his life. For starters, he’s naked, and everyone’s looking at him. Not to mention it looks like he’s lost his balance and chaffed his bum on that sharp rock. Oh, and there’s a very large snake wrapped around his groin. He’s got one arm free, and he’s trying to shade his eyes from the 16 trillion-watt God light shining from heaven right into his eyes. He’s in bad shape.

Won’t anybody help this guy?

I’m not surprised the folks back in 1878 were uncomfortable with Ricardo Bellver’s statue of the devil. To put it simply: he’s too close for comfort. Instead of being ugly and abstract, he’s beautiful and personal. He looks like we do, and we want to help him. And somehow, even though we only came out today because we wanted to get some exercise, maybe rollerblade around the park a few times, we find ourselves standing here in front of this statue, surrounded by living things like chestnut trees and pink flowers, in the middle of our very own garden of good and evil.