If Walls Could Talk
Ever since the first caveman or woman drew a bison, people have loved wall paintings. Amid the remains of Roman Pompeii are beautiful murals of leafy gardens full of fruit trees and flowers while, centuries later, Italian Renaissance ducal palaces were adorned with frolicking gods and goddesses. Early American settlers preferred to paint naive landscapes with pale, slender trees and limpid lakes, but the Gilded Age of the late 19th century saw the walls and ceilings of American mansions (as well as the public institutions endowed by their rich owners) decorated with bold, florid designs. Almost all featured pillowy clouds; the most enduring mural trope throughout the centuries. Now, there are signs that murals are making a return, with those historic subjects—with the possible exception of the bison—being painted onto American walls.
The bar at New York’s Le Coucou restaurant in lower Manhattan, with its misty, feathery trees, was painted by much-in-demand muralist Dean Barger. “I want the viewer to get lost in the illusion,” he says of his work, which he paints at large and smaller scale on walls across the US. Recent projects include a dreamy moonscape for the Stable Hall music venue in San Antonio, Texas, and some nebulous pine trees in the manner of the Japanese artist Hasegawa Tōhaku (1539–1610) for the newly opened Nami restaurant in Lake Nona, Florida.
Stephen Alesch of Roman and Williams, the design firm behind Le Coucou’s interiors, says: ‘‘I hate those murals where every brushstroke is screaming for attention’’—and Barger agrees. Instead, he uses multiple diaphanous washes of very dilute artist’s acrylic to create his illusions, “so you are never sure if you are looking at a lake or mist on a meadow.”