Walls that become canvases

When Bess Hinson Taylor took her preschool son to the local science museum, she knew she wanted to paint a 20-foot-tall butterfly on the 100-year-old brick warehouse next door.

A self-taught artist with a biology degree living in rural Columbus County, N.C., Taylor had painted some indoor murals, but her comfort zone was smaller work. Supported by museum friends and garden and civic clubs, she painted a dozen butterfly murals around the museum in 2020, then six more on Whiteville businesses in 2021.

They became morale boosters during what Taylor called “a hard year on everybody.” One incorporated doodles—expressing love and sometimes loss—by dozens of local schoolchildren. One teacher called it “a healing wall.”

Taylor spent months securing funding and permits, then researching and sketching, then logging miles of steps climbing her scaffold. Instagram users now share her murals with their followers.

Taylor is part of a social-media-driven movement of muralists bringing education and advocacy to city streets, or just beauty to old brick walls.

Murals have played a role in American culture for a century, but social media fuel their current popularity, says Moral Masuoka of Beautify Earth, a nonprofit matching muralists with sponsors in four countries.

A streetside mural comes to the viewer at no cost and at eye level, she said. “It allows the viewer to be part of the art.”

Iron Brush mural Facebook

One of Taylor’s inspirations is a British muralist using the name ATM Street Art. Twenty years ago, as a self-labeled Anarchist Trouble Maker, he painted Americans Go Home to protest the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Now, supported by conservation groups, ATM paints endangered species to show what’s lost when natural habitats are destroyed.

ATM’s 80-plus completed murals promote conversation and conservation from London to Norway to New York. But even while his paint is wet, he fields what-and-why questions from “people from all walks of life, most of whom would never think of going to an art gallery,” he said. Most “have no idea what the species are,” let alone how close they are to disappearing.

ATM has painted in dazzling summer sun that dried his paints on the palette. He’s returned to work after a downpour to find half his primer coat washed off. But he sees himself as “fighting a battle,” he said, and he sees progress as European countries enact more wildlife protection measures.

Murals can also battle crime by instilling respect for neglected neighborhoods, reducing vandalism. The largest public art program in the United States, Mural Arts Philadelphia, began in 1984 to replace graffiti with art. Today, MAP’s 4,000-plus murals not only attract tourists but also foster community resilience, says Communications Director Chad Smith.

Murals in Philadelphia are big in every way. Folding the Prism is a six-stories-tall tribute to the city’s textile history. Most of MAP’s $11 million annual budget comes from philanthropic institutions, government, tour tickets, and hundreds of donors.

“Art ignites change,” founder and CEO Jane Golden proclaims at every ribbon cutting.

MAP’s apprenticeship program teaches job skills to formerly incarcerated 18- to 24-year-olds while they earn $13.75 an hour. A Color Me Back initiative pays homeless people to beautify subway stations while obtaining education and public services.

Cara Brown and Cynthia Wallace met while decorating their Murfreesboro, Tenn., church for vacation Bible school and formed Iron Brush Mural in 2019. The name, from Proverbs 27:17, reflects how they sharpen each other’s skills.

Brown brings a flair for color and energy; Wallace is all about precision. “We both are better artists because we work together,” Wallace said.

They have completed more than 80 murals. Clients want to create a memorable identity for their school, express a Scriptural theme in their church, or attract Instagrammers to their café or antique shop. Iron Brush’s mission is “to create beauty and inspire joy,” and their work often leads to interactions with observers that never would have happened otherwise.

“God gives us each gifts,” Brown said. Murals are her way to “share that with others and bring others joy.”

Wallace appreciates seeing “anything that’s excellent” in other artists’ work. She asks herself, “How can I use my talents for others?”

Even with eight muralists working nearby, Wallace says, the area is in no danger of saturation. “There are a million walls that need paint on them.”