From Bare Wall to Living Garden

There is something special about painting directly onto a wall. Unlike a canvas, a mural becomes part of the architecture with its own character, imperfections and history. Rather than trying to hide those qualities, I wanted to work with them.

For this mural, the aim was to create an immersive botanical scene that felt organic, atmospheric and slightly dreamlike:  a space where plants, birds, butterflies and a central figure could all exist together as though they had grown naturally from the wall.

Starting with the Wall

The first stage of any mural is understanding the surface. I was working with a chalky white paint so rather than cover everything with a completely uniform base, I allowed some of that character to remain visible. It ended up looking like a fresco with an aged, rather archaelogical feel.

I began by establishing a warm, earthy foundation with browns, ochres, creams and muted golden tone, all applied randomly with a brush to avoid looking flat. This was built up through irregular washes, scumbling and broken areas of pigment so that it would feel more like an old painted surface than a freshly decorated wall.

This was important because the plants and figures needed somewhere to belong. A perfectly clean background can sometimes make a mural feel like a cartoon placed on top of a wall. 

Building the Composition

Once the underlying atmosphere was established, I began developing the larger shapes.

The composition is essentially a garden that surrounds a central human figure. The Buddha figure provides a quiet focal point, while the foliage spreads outward and creates movement across the wall.

The plants were painted with a combination of more controlled drawing and loose, expressive marks. Ferns, long leaves and tropical forms overlap one another, creating different levels of depth whilst STRONGLY resisting the temptation to make every leaf perfect as nature isn't perfectly symmetrical. 

By allowing the brushwork to remain visible, the foliage retains a sense of movement. I worked from darker masses towards lighter details, using the darker foliage to establish depth and then bringing selected leaves forward with lighter tones.

Creating Depth Through Layers

A mural like this depends heavily on layering.

Instead of trying to paint every object completely from the beginning, I treated the wall almost like a series of transparent veils. Background marks were allowed to remain visible beneath subsequent layers of paint.

Some areas are soft and almost washed out, while others are much more defined. This contrast helps the eye move around the composition.

The distant foliage is quieter and less detailed. As elements come forward, the marks become stronger and more descriptive.

I also used overlapping forms to create depth. A fern might pass in front of the figure, while another leaf disappears behind it. These small intersections are what make the painted garden feel like a space rather than a collection of individual objects.

The Central Figure

The figure was deliberately kept relatively understated.

Rather than creating a highly detailed portrait, I wanted the person to feel almost symbolic — someone absorbed in the garden rather than simply standing in front of it.

The grey-blue tones of the hair and clothing provide a subtle contrast against the warmer ochres and greens surrounding the figure. The circular golden area behind the head also helps establish a visual focus without making the figure feel too literal.

Keeping the figure quiet was important. The surrounding vegetation is expressive and busy, so the figure needed to act as a moment of stillness within the composition.

Painting the Foliage

The foliage was probably the most physical part of the process.

For many of the leaves, I used broad, gestural brush marks rather than carefully outlining every shape. I built the forms from dark greens and earthy shadows, then added lighter strokes to suggest individual leaves and highlights.

Dry-brush techniques were particularly useful in areas where I wanted the texture of the wall to show through the paint. By using relatively little paint on the brush, the pigment catches the raised parts of the surface and creates a broken, natural texture.

I also allowed some areas to become quite loose. Not every plant needs to be immediately identifiable. Sometimes a suggestion of leaves is more effective than a fully described botanical illustration.

The result is a balance between recognisable plants and abstract marks.

Small Details That Bring the Mural to Life

Once the major forms were established, I started adding the smaller elements.

The birds and butterflies act almost like punctuation throughout the mural. They are small, but they give the composition a sense of life and movement.

One of the butterflies is particularly interesting because of the way its painted surface interacts with the roughness of the wall.

The butterfly was built up with warm reds, terracotta and muted pinks, with darker outlines defining the wings. Highlights were then added selectively, rather than evenly across the whole shape.

That uneven application is important. The wall texture breaks up the brushwork, creating tiny variations in colour and opacity. Instead of fighting that texture, I used it to my advantage.

The butterfly almost feels like it has been discovered within the wall rather than simply painted on top of it.

Working With Imperfection

One of the biggest lessons when working on a mural is that perfection isn't necessarily the goal.

A wall is a very different surface from a canvas. There are cracks, bumps, changes in absorbency and existing marks. Paint behaves differently from one section to another.

Instead of treating these things as problems, I incorporated them into the process.

Some of the background remains rough and unfinished. Some brushstrokes are deliberately visible. Edges fade away and reappear. Colours overlap rather than meeting in perfectly clean lines.

These imperfections give the mural its character.

Colour and Atmosphere

The colour palette was kept deliberately earthy.

Warm ochres, browns, dusty creams and muted greens form the foundation, while the reds and pinks of the butterfly and smaller details provide moments of contrast.

This restrained palette helps the mural feel cohesive. Even though there are many different plants and forms, they belong to the same visual world.

The warmer background also gives the piece an almost antique quality, while the botanical forms keep it feeling alive and contemporary.

The Final Stage

The final stage was about stepping back.

When working close to a wall, it is very easy to become absorbed in tiny details. But murals need to work from a distance as well as up close.

I looked for areas that needed stronger contrast, places where foliage could be brought forward, and sections where the composition needed to breathe.

Small marks were added to connect different parts of the mural, while other areas were deliberately left quieter.

This final adjustment is often where the painting starts to feel like one complete piece rather than a collection of individual stages.

A Garden Painted Into the Architecture

The finished mural is intended to feel less like a picture hanging on a wall and more like a garden emerging from it.

The rough surface, layered paint, loose botanical marks and small details all contribute to that effect. The viewer can see the larger composition from a distance, but closer inspection reveals a different experience — brush marks, wall texture, overlapping pigments and tiny imperfections.

For me, that's one of the most rewarding things about mural painting.

You aren't simply decorating a surface. You're responding to the architecture, allowing the existing character of the wall to influence the painting, and gradually building an environment that changes the way the space feels.

In this mural, the combination of foliage, wildlife and the quiet central figure creates a kind of painted sanctuary — earthy, organic and deliberately imperfect.

And perhaps that's the real beauty of working directly onto a wall: the artwork doesn't just occupy the space. It becomes part of it.