Two weeks ago, I took my brushes, cup of water, rag, and small glass container with dark grey house paint down to the sidewalk and started to paint calligraphy again on the mural. It had been 3 and half months since I last painted. I guess I needed a break. Now a little more than year later, I realize what a strong life of its own this work-in-progress of the 641 Garage BLM Memorial Mural has had, and still has.

2020 brought the global pandemic, sheltering-in-place, distancing from others, wearing masks, staying home, confusion, uncertainty, and so much death on all fronts. Then the video of George Floyd’s murder – the relentlessly cruel knee of a white police officer on a Black man’s neck for 9 and half minutes – went around the world like wildfire, and America broke into uprisings. Not marching on the streets, I wanted to put my “body” on the line somehow – trying to envision something more permanent than paper signs. These racist killings by police were not news to me; I had paid attention to them for the past 12 years and more, with increasing anger and disbelief at the shameless violence.

The sudden clear idea came to me on June 1, 2020. My garage doors could become the perfect canvas for practicing the Art of Commemorating: in this case, the huge never-ending number of innocent victims of state and police violence. Three days later, after talking to some friends and my brother in Germany, the decision was made. It seemed daring, and appropriate for the times.