EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY
We have been tourists at the Louvre, the Met, and the National Gallery, among many others. Closer to home, we love the Briscoe, the Kimbell, the Modern in Fort Worth, the DMA, and the Houston Museum of Fine Art. As renowned and important as those museums may be, none of them exhibited anything that lifted our spirits as much as the murals we have seen across Texas. While that fact reveals a deficiency in education and/or judgment, it also speaks to the importance of murals. When it comes to bringing small moments of happiness, murals are tough to beat.
Why are murals so effective? They are affirming, almost no matter the subject. One advantage of public art is that it tells the audience that they are worthy of art, even if they cannot afford the price of admission. They are usually large; large things have a large impact. They speak in a language almost everyone can understand.
Most of all, murals communicate a sense of community. The best murals convey the story of a place, of a time, of a people. It may be a tiny slice of life, like the Banksy Balloon Girl, or it may be an epic, like the Sistine Chapel. What they have in common is the spark of human interaction.
That is why, from time immemorial, humans have expressed themselves by painting on walls. We need to tell our story, and we need to hear the stories of others. It is such an innate part of our being that not only does it raise our spirits, it also increases the property values around it. Of course, in Texas, where big is always a positive, we have an avalanche of worthy murals.
Picking our favorite ten of anything is difficult. Choosing just 20 murals (including the ten honorable mentions) was impossible. We love every entry on our honorable mention list and probably a thousand others. In making the final cut, we sought works that tell a story, have or will have a lasting impact, and utilize memorable graphics and color. With those characteristics as our keystones, we came up with our favorite Texas murals:
Photo Credit Vincent Gonzales.
Matt Tumlinson’s King George in San Antonio won rave reviews and publicity for its talented creator, most importantly from the subject of the work. George Strait is an iconic Texan, and elevating him to royalty strikes just the right balance of truth and humor. We love the detail, particularly the Texas-shaped metals and the combo cowboy hat/crown. George’s smile suggests he is on it and does not take it all that seriously, even if we do.
Lufkin is a city of murals, and they just uncovered another one. The one we named “Flapper Girl” by Lance Harris won our hearts the most. The woman who centers the mural is worldly and interesting; her eyes tell the tale. The reference to the town, notably the iconic Pines Theater, speaks to a community that is alive.
This commissioned work was completed in 2001, at a time when the story was that Wal-Mart had destroyed rural downtowns. Lufkin did not buy that idea and created a vibrant downtown space. Flapper Girl had to be a big reason it worked.
This one is tough to write about. Uziyah was one of 19 nine and ten-year-olds who lost their lives, along with two of their teachers, to the senselessness of another school shooting. Each has a mural in Uvalde.
Murals are a good answer when words are inadequate to express emotions. The ones in Uvalde are exceptional. The fact that each child and teacher receives tribute is essential. It emphasizes that each of them was a tragic loss, that they were more than statistics in a policy debate. This was 21 tragedies, not one. You cannot forget that fact after seeing the works.
The murals also grant the victims their uniqueness in a refreshing way. That Uziyah loved Spiderman, basketball, and gorilla tag is his story, more important than the way it ended. Finally, the celebration of the children through the things they loved brings at least a flicker of hope that those things bring Uziyah and his friends peace even today. Uvalde strong.
What a combination we have here. Dr. Pepper is the soft drink of Texas, Cowboys are the symbol of Texas. The state motto is friendship. A smiling cowboy drinking a Dr. Pepper hits a lot of high points.
This was a Dave Freeman commission work, so it is not an actual Dr. Pepper advertisement. The wonderful town of Paris, however, got just what it was looking for. Texan Parisians take pride in smiling through the struggle. It is how they built the most metropolitan city on the Red River. This mural perfectly captures their spirit.
The Nocona mural on the former boot factory, now a multi-purpose building housing a baseball glove facility and a brewery, has its roots in a celebrated advertising campaign from the late 1970s to early 1980s. Nocona turned to acclaimed illustrator Alex Ebel to bring to life the idea of comfortable boots in an uncomfortable environment.
Ebel built an extraordinary list of Hollywood credits before his passing in 2013. He is best known for doing the Friday the 13th poster. The Nocona work is among his best, and good-condition copies of the original posters are collectibles. Nocona (the town) has done a tremendous job of honoring its heritage. The idea of recreating the poster on the building where the boots were made was a brilliant one, and it was executed even better.
The title is “Spirit of Healing” and it adorns nine stories of a children’s hospital. The context created a high-wire act for San Antonio artist Jesse Trevino. For the project to be satisfactory, the emotional impact had to be huge. They picked the right guy.
Trevino was a promising art student in the mid-1960s when he was drafted for service in Vietnam. Although he could have legally avoided the draft, he followed his brothers’ example and served. Devastating sniper fire found him; he was “lucky” to escape with his life. It was a torturous rehab during which he lost his dominant right hand. Trevino started over again, determined to paint the city where he grew up. He did so with aplomb; his photorealist works are well-known among collectors.
Later in his career he turned to murals; this one is his masterpiece. Among the many details we could emphasize, this is our favorite: Trevino made the angel with a broken wing. So much hope out of so much pain. Like we said, they picked the right guy.
Joel Hale started painting signs when he was nine years old. His work is visible across North Central Texas, where he operates primarily on a donation basis. He saved his best work for his hometown of St. Jo.
We cannot think of a better example of quiet storytelling. There is strength in those hands and productivity in the ropes. This entry pays homage to people who still do things the way their grandfather did. Quiet strength is praiseworthy, and Joel gave us a fitting hymn.
It is amazing what renovations can lead to. In 2012, the owners of this Goliad building were turning it into an event center when they uncovered this masterpiece from the late 19th century. Long before Bull Durham was associated with minor league baseball through the film, it was one of the nation’s largest tobacco companies.
Advertising was often done via murals painted on a town’s most prominent building by “wall dogs” who were traveling painters. Somehow, this one got put behind sheetrock and avoided the sun for a century. The mural’s excellent condition makes it a historically significant, as well as a reminder that social media used to be truly social.
We return to Matt Tumlinson, the artist behind King George. Matt got his start in muraling in Rankin, Texas, where he knew the football coach and wife–Matt’s sister and brother-in-law. That connection led to the town fathers, who agreed to let Matt develop his craft on empty walls throughout the town.
You can see Matt’s artistic chops for yourself. What we love is his wry, devastating sense of humor. Great jokes come from truth, and this one is dead-on accurate. The use of Texas’s favorite non-Texan to teach the lesson was inspired. The fact that the joke is told just like a West Texan would tell it —short and to the point —is even better. There are several more that are just as good. Which might make Rankin the best town to drive around in in Texas.
I hope that my high-school English teachers (Ms. Adams, Trice, Gamble, and Peak) appreciate my use of foreshadowing. Humans have indeed been painting their stories on billboards for millennia. Seminole State Park near Del Rio offers stunning examples of that tradition.
The ranger who gave the tours was phenomenal. It involved some hiking, but it was worth it to appreciate that our need to communicate what we are about is primal. There are over 200 high-quality pictographs left by a civilization that began 7,000 years ago. We can only guess at their meaning, just as in 7,000 years, our descendants probably will struggle to understand a Bull Durham ad or who John Wayne was.
But they will know we were here and that we communicated with each other. That we led lives meaningful enough to record. I really hope they will understand that we laughed at things and loved others.
We love our list and stand by it. But that is just us. If we missed something or misranked it, let us know. 
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