Amid rapid urban development, Colorado struggles with the preservation of murals as living testaments to cultural identity.
In Colorado’s dynamic artistic landscape, murals transcend mere paint on walls.They are living testaments to cultural identity and political discourse. With the proliferation of these artworks across urban and suburban spaces, a crucial concern arises—how to preserve the murals that have become dynamic storytellers, the murals that convey the diverse narratives of the state’s cultural fabric. The imperative of preservation, however, grapples with looming challenges posed by urban development practices, including “artwashing,” a contentious phenomenon that uses arts and culture initiatives to mask gentrification’s negative impacts.
Nowhere is this struggle more apparent than in the cultural heartbeats of Colorado’s Chicano/a/x and Indigenous murals. As masterpieces deeply rooted in political and cultural concerns, these artworks narrate tales of resistance, resilience, and community spirit. Yet, amid the brushstrokes of change sweeping across cityscapes, the risk of losing these murals to the tide of progress becomes palpable. Each stroke on the walls echoes the voices of those who sought to make their mark on the walls of history, raising the pressing question of how to navigate the intersection of preservation, urban evolution, and the continued vitality of these cultural symbols.
In exploring this complex interplay, I spoke with archeologist Lucha Martínez de Luna and Colorado-based artist Gregg Deal (Pyramid Lake Paiute), whose perspectives offer valuable insights into the delicate balance between preserving Colorado’s dynamic murals and navigating the challenges posed by urban development and artwashing.
Martínez de Luna, an archeologist working with the Chicano/a/x Murals of Colorado Project, is a living testament to this rich legacy whose personal narrative intertwines with the very roots of this artistic movement.
Her journey begins in the years preceding her birth, an era characterized by the fervor of the Chicano movement. Her father, Emanuel Martínez, a Colorado muralist and integral figure in this historical chapter, navigated the nascent years of the civil rights movement. As an artist, he wielded his craft in service of the movement and stood among its pioneers during the pivotal years of 1965 and 1966. At a time when few artists dedicated themselves to this cause, Martínez traversed the landscapes of Colorado, New Mexico, and California, actively contributing to the three concurrent Chicano movements.
Martínez’s prolific journey into community muralism coincided with Martínez de Luna’s birth, and first unfolded in the Lincoln housing projects, where the family resided. It was here that he painted the initial strokes of a community mural—a mural that would become a visual testament to his daughter’s early years. The poolside mural, witnessing her baptism, not only mirrored the community’s transformation but also served as an artistic site of shared understanding.
Martínez de Luna’s childhood was immersed in the vibrant hues and narratives of these murals, which became the backdrop against which her perception of art and its role in shaping communities took root. At the peak of tension, the community found itself at odds with police brutality, exclusion from shared spaces, and an acute sense of disconnection. In response, the murals emerged as defiant affirmations of existence. They became the canvases upon which a community proclaims, “Yes, we belong here. This is our space, and we will tell our story.” This hostile environment further fueled the need for murals as shields against systemic oppression. Adorned with narratives of resistance and resilience, they served as tangible embodiments of the community’s determination to persevere and preserve its history.
Over the years in her cultural preservation work, Martínez de Luna has had many passionate dialogues with Denver Arts and Venues (DAV), the city and county of Denver agency responsible for operating some of the region’s facilities, and that also oversees the Denver Public Art Program and funding opportunities. Her concerns resonate as a compelling chapter in the ongoing narrative of artwashing and gentrification. At its core, her inquiries delve into the disparities between creating new murals and preserving the existing ones that bear witness to the rich tapestry of community narratives.
While substantial investments are made to birth new public art projects, there’s a noticeable lack of commitment to safeguard the masterpieces already adorning the walls.
Martínez de Luna explains her pointed questions for DAV: “When it comes down to the numbers, what I always ask is, how many murals have you preserved? How many murals are you creating?” Her line of inquiry exposes a glaring imbalance in resource allocation. While substantial investments are made to birth new public art projects, there’s a noticeable lack of commitment to safeguard the masterpieces already adorning the walls.1
This dissonance extends beyond budgetary concerns. Martínez de Luna’s disagreement with the classification of murals as mere “paint on a wall” reveals a systemic oversight. “How do you protect something that is just painted on a wall? You have to completely change the whole; you have to change so much because preservation caters to a Western perception of preservation,” she articulates. The struggle lies in a preservation paradigm that fails to recognize murals as living entities, carrying the weight of cultural heritage and history.
“People of color didn’t own those buildings,” she observes, unveiling another nuanced layer of the preservation challenges embedded in the context of murals, where there is a historical disparity in property ownership. In many urban landscapes, especially those characterized by systemic inequality, communities of color historically faced barriers to property ownership.2 Buildings with vibrant murals often belong to entities or individuals who do not share the cultural identity and historical experiences that artwork reflects. This lack of ownership complicates the preservation landscape significantly.3 Unlike scenarios in which a building owner holds a vested interest in its longevity, murals frequently find themselves at the mercy of property owners who may prioritize redevelopment over cultural preservation.4
This disparity introduces a critical challenge—how to navigate preservation efforts when the custodians of the physical spaces do not share the cultural ties or appreciation for the murals’ significance. It necessitates a reevaluation of strategies that can address the unique circumstances of murals, acknowledging their role as dynamic cultural expressions rather than static artifacts.
Martínez de Luna’s call to “think outside the box” thus takes on added urgency. Preservation efforts must transcend traditional models and incorporate perspectives that reflect the cultural vibrancy these murals encapsulate. This involves collaborative initiatives that engage the artists and the communities represented in the murals and fostering a shared commitment to safeguard these expressions of cultural identity against the looming threats of redevelopment and gentrification.
“I find it exhausting to be talking to entities like Denver Arts and Venues,” she admits, describing what amounts to an exercise in endurance. The frustration surfaces as she grapples with bureaucratic impediments to securing permissions and resources for mural preservation while their focus remains on new projects.
Martínez de Luna points out a stark reality: “The statistics right now are grim. As of 2020, according to the director of the State Historic Preservation Office, three percent of the murals [in Colorado] represent women, people of color, and the LGBTQIA+ community. So 97% of what could end up being protected and preserved represent white men. If you keep erasing the murals, which are really the last things left in a lot of these communities, that’s it, they’re gone. Everything’s gone.” As an archaeologist, Martínez de Luna envisions a future where the absence of murals erases vital aspects of diverse community histories. “When an archaeologist comes into Denver to excavate 500 years from now, and there are no murals… they just won’t know. There’s no way for archaeologists to find anything cultural because the structures will have been torn down,” she laments.
Where the pulse of Chicano/a/x and Indigenous murals beats, Gregg Deal’s creative work weaves seamlessly into the fabric of preservation and cultural expression. In his mural Take Back the Power (2020) in Colorado Springs, created as part of the program Art on the Streets, a monumental portrait of his fourteen-year-old daughter Sage Deal towers nearly eighty feet tall on a brick wall at 102 East Pikes Peak Avenue. With a red handprint over her mouth, the image addresses a critical issue—the high rates of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, two-spirit, and LGBTQIA+ people.
In the expansive canvas of Colorado’s mural landscape, Deal’s creation is a groundbreaking endeavor. More than visual spectacle, Take Back the Power is a call to action, raising awareness about the grave challenges confronting marginalized communities. Deal notes that it is the largest mural in the country dedicated to addressing this pressing issue.
This mural actively engages in the ongoing discourse surrounding preservation. Beyond symbolizing the resilience of Indigenous narratives, it magnifies the voices of those facing heightened vulnerabilities. Positioned on the wall of a building facing impending demolition, as indicated by Michelle Winchell, the executive director of Downtown Ventures in Colorado Springs, which facilitates Art on the Streets, it underscores concerns within the mural preservation community. While initially slated to be secure for at least a year, the mural has become a focal point and a gathering place for protests and discussions of art’s impact on the community. Although the building remains empty years later, its future uncertain, the mural’s potential as a beacon for cultural issues expressed through art also hangs in the balance.
As I contemplate the impermanence of these artworks, a sense of urgency arises. Murals like Take Back the Power are guardians of narratives that might otherwise be erased. In navigating the challenges of preservation, we confront the paradox that while murals serve as timeless reflections of our collective stories, their physical existence remains precarious. The risk of losing these powerful voices in the ever-changing urban landscape underscores the importance of Martínez de Luna’s proactive measures to safeguard Colorado’s cultural heritage and our ability to see murals as more than ephemeral.
In urban evolution, gentrification intertwines with artistic expression, raising questions about the true motives behind creative placemaking, a community development strategy that integrates arts and culture into the fabric of a place to enhance its social, economic, and cultural vibrancy, but often masks an insidious agenda: commodifying or erasing art that once defined neighborhoods. Artwashing can easily disguise itself as creative placemaking, contributing to the displacement of established communities.5
Deal’s mural I’m So Bored With The USA (The Clash) (2021) provides a lens through which to examine the multifaceted relationship between creative placemaking, gentrification, and community expression. The arrangement of Native and colonist figures in a wrestling match, in which the colonist is about to be thrown out of the space, subverts the power dynamic and challenges the prevailing historical narrative.
Deal’s work confronts the transformation of places like Denver’s Five Points neighborhood, which has witnessed the erasure of familiar landscapes and cultural identities. During our discussion, Deal reflected on Crush Walls, a now-defunct urban art event that featured local, national, and international muralists. “I participated in Crush Walls in 2020, and that was the last year that I was going to do it.” He aligned his decision with concerns about how gentrification drastically changed the area and pushed out locals who could no longer afford the skyrocketing prices, as expressed by friends from Five Points. Gentrification, exemplified by the rebranding of the area to River North Art District (RiNo), became a palpable force that altered the very fabric of the community. Yet, when offered a canvas to express himself on a prominent wall in this gentrifying space, Deal seized the opportunity to make a bold, in-your-face statement with I’m So Bored.
This mural is a political, social, and neighborhood statement, encapsulating the complex dynamics of a neighborhood morphing into a reflection of broader societal issues. Deal’s use of humor within murals, a common tactic in gentrification efforts to beautify neighborhoods, takes on a subversive role, challenging the commodification and consumerism ingrained in the fabric of the United States and, by extension, areas like Five Points.
From the resilience of Chicano/a/x murals to Gregg Deal’s bold statement against the backdrop of gentrification, each artwork becomes a chapter in an ongoing dialogue. As creative placemaking sweeps through neighborhoods, it carries both the promise of cultural preservation and the threat of erasure. The murals, once a reflection of communities’ struggles, triumphs, and identities, now stand at a crossroads where their fate intertwines with the forces of change.
The call to action is an invitation—to engage in dialogues that challenge the status quo, to support local artists who breathe life into walls, and to demand preservation efforts that recognize the significance of murals in our shared cultural tapestry. The future of murals hinges on our collective commitment to celebrating diversity, resisting erasure, and fostering a sense of belonging through the art that adorns our public spaces. As we stand on the precipice of urban change, it beckons us to be active stewards of our cultural legacy, ensuring that the stories on our walls are not silenced but continue to resonate through generations to come.
