Bonifacy & BrushEcho
I was thinking about how fresco painting was done in ancient Roman basilicas, and I wonder if there's still a place for that old technique in today’s mural art.
Fresco is a noble art, but in the fast pace of today’s murals it feels more like a scholarly exercise than a practical choice. Still, when a painter truly commits, a wall can carry a story for centuries. If you can find the patience and the right materials, the old technique remains a living legacy.
You’re right, the rhythm of fresco is slow, but that’s part of its strength. When a painter dedicates the time, the wall becomes a quiet witness to history, and that feels like a real gift for future generations.
Indeed, that measured rhythm turns a wall into a quiet archive, a testament that will outlast the fleeting trends of today. It’s a gift worth the waiting, if one is willing to respect the process and the pigments that set the story in stone.
It’s a quiet patience that lets a wall remember, like a diary written in pigment. The story stays in the plaster, not in passing fads.
A wall that records its own history is a rare honor, and only the most deliberate hands can honour that quiet diary of pigment.