The Murals That Taught Me About Space and Silence

The Murals That Taught Me About Space and Silence

Before I ever painted a wall, I was obsessed with depth.

Not depth as in skill, or style. Depth as in what lingers in the room when no one is talking. Depth as in the kind of silence that makes you listen differently.

Murals, for me, became a way to speak without words. To transform walls into invitations. To reconfigure the atmosphere of a space through rhythm, tone, and texture.

Listening to the Walls

One of the first times I felt this was during an artist residency in Nicaragua. I was living on Playa Maderas, working with the team from We Stay Lost and creating large-scale work at Hulakai Hotel. The walls there weren’t blank canvases — they were listening surfaces. You could feel the breeze from the Pacific, the volcanic soil beneath your feet, the wildness in the air. My job wasn’t to decorate. It was to translate.

I created a piece that wrapped across multiple surfaces — a soft, flowing expansion that mirrored the pulse of the tide and the hush of the jungle canopy. It wasn’t just about color or composition. It was about presence. Stillness. Becoming part of the environment rather than trying to stand out.

Evexia: The Language of Flow

Years later, I found myself in Marin County, California, creating two large murals for Evexia — a wellness space built around restoration and vitality. In their coworking area, I painted three separate walls with undulating mountain ranges and rhythmic dotwork.

The goal wasn’t stimulation. It was resonance.

The mural was designed to feel like exhale. To bring in the mood of the landscape just beyond the windows. To create an illusion of infinite space, of being held within something expansive.

One team member told me the walls gave the room a sense of calm they hadn’t experienced before. Another shared that it actually changed the energy of how people collaborated in the space.

Outside, I painted a 700 sq. ft. mural on their patio walls — gradient-toned and sun-aligned. Slatted wood, bold transitions, warm geometry. One guest cried when she saw it, saying it made the whole lobby glow. That the light now had somewhere to land.

That’s when I realized something: murals don’t just shift space. They shift people.

Silence Is Part of the Composition

The hardest thing about mural work isn’t the scale. It’s knowing when not to add more.

So much of this work is about restraint. Holding the line. Letting the wall breathe. Every piece I make now is a study in stillness as much as it is an expression of movement.

Whether I’m painting in a jungle lodge, a meditation studio, or a coworking loft, I bring the same intention:

• Create art that doesn’t compete with life
• Use shape and flow to anchor energy
• Let the silence between forms say something, too

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Want to bring soul and space into your walls? → [Let’s talk about a mural project]

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