The Story Behind My First Public Mural

In May 2026, I had the opportunity to paint my first public mural as a featured artist for the 2026 VB Street Art Festival hosted by the ViBe District located at the Virginia Beach Oceanfront. I submitted my first application in 2024.

I wasn't selected.

The next year, I applied again.

I wasn't selected.

Then in 2026, I got the email.

I had been chosen as a featured artist for the Virginia Beach Street Art Festival.

Like a lot of firsts, it was exciting, intimidating, exhausting, rewarding, and far more complicated than I expected.

When people look at the finished mural, they see a collection of symbols, wildlife, nautical imagery, and the words "Virginia Beach" painted in large gothic lettering. What they don't necessarily see is the story behind why those elements were chosen and what I hoped to capture in the piece.

Sometimes the difference between the person who gets the opportunity and the person who doesn't is simply who was willing to try again.

Then, about a week before the festival, everything went sideways.

I got sick.

Not "a little under the weather" sick.

The kind of sick where you start questioning whether you'll be able to do the thing you've spent months preparing for.

The Tuesday before the festival, I ended up in urgent care.

At that point there wasn't really an option to reschedule. The mural wasn't moving. The festival wasn't moving. I just had to get as healthy as possible and hope for the best.

By Friday morning, I was standing in front of an 8.8-foot-tall structure near the Virginia Beach Convention Center wondering what exactly I had gotten myself into.

Day One was all preparation.

The first step was painting the entire structure black.

Then came the grid.

I knew from the beginning that scaling the artwork would be one of the hardest parts of the project.

One thing many people don't know about me is that I have aphantasia.

Aphantasia means I don't have a mind's eye. If you tell most people to picture an apple, they can literally visualize one.

I can't.

That becomes particularly interesting when your job is turning a design created on an 8.5-by-11-inch page into something nearly nine feet tall.

I've never considered myself particularly gifted at freehand drawing, and honestly, I'm not ashamed of that.

Artists are often expected to be naturally talented at every part of the process.

I'm not.

What I am good at is problem-solving.

So I created a grid system using chalk and began mapping out where every major element needed to go.

The process was slow.

The process was awkward.

The process worked.

At least for a little while.

Eventually I abandoned my original plan and switched to creating large stencils with my Cricut, which ended up saving the project entirely. But those first chalk lines taught me something important about working at scale.

You don't have to be good at everything.

You just have to find a way forward.

The rest of the week became a combination of painting, problem-solving, climbing ladders, reapplying sunscreen, drinking water, creating content, making adjustments, and trying not to melt in the Virginia Beach heat.

The heat turned out to be its own challenge.

Because of the medications I take, I'm significantly more sensitive to heat than I was when I was younger. What might be uncomfortable for someone else can become genuinely dangerous for me much more quickly.

I learned that lesson the hard way.

There were moments during the week when finishing felt very far away.

But every day I came back.

A little more paint.

A few more details.

One more section completed.

And eventually, after seven days of work, it was done.

Most of the artists completed their pieces in about three days.

Mine took seven.

I could look at that and see a weakness.

Instead, I choose to see a first attempt.

My first mural wasn't perfect.

It wasn't the fastest.

It wasn't the easiest.

But it was finished.

And for me, that's what matters.

Because now when my kids see that mural standing near the Convention Center, they aren't just looking at a piece of art.

They're looking at persistence made visible.