Why Tropical Plants Show Up So Much in My Murals
People often notice the plants first.
Tropical plants show up in my murals because they are part of my memory, my colour language, and my connection to Colombia.
The oversized leaves, the bright flowers, the movement, the colour that does not exactly whisper. And yes, I paint a lot of tropical plants. To say A LOT is an understatement.
However, it is not because I woke up one day and decided, "This is my thing now." It comes from somewhere much deeper than that.
I moved from Colombia to Canada as a teenager, and for a long time, I had a complicated relationship with the place I came from. I loved Colombia, of course, but I was also angry at it. In some ways, I felt like it had expelled me. Like, I had to leave to build a different life.
That feeling is not simple. It changes with time. It softens, then it comes back, then it becomes something else. However, the colour stayed, the plants stayed, and somewhere along the way, they became one of the ways I could keep Colombia close to me.
Plants are part of my memory
When I paint tropical plants, I am not only painting leaves because they look good on a wall.
I am painting something that connects me to where I come from, to my family, to the colours I grew up around, and to the places that shaped me before I had the language to explain any of it.
My grandma loves plants. She was always planting something, taking care of them, noticing them growing. There was always this relationship with nature that felt normal, almost invisible because it was simply part of life.
Now that I live in Canada, I notice how much that stayed with me.
My murals often bring together the place I come from and the place where I am building my life now.
The way I use colour, the plants I return to, the warmth I try to bring into a space, all of it feels connected to that early visual world.
It is not nostalgia in a perfect, romantic way; it is more complicated than that. It reflects on the past, but also on the future. So for me, it is añoranza and anhelo.
I can somehow vividly recall all the plants from my childhood. The smell of the trees, the smell of guava, mango, soursop (guanabana) and every fruit in between. I can see the Andes, majestic as they are, the sky, and I can smell not only La sabana de Bogotá, but also Ibagué and its tierra caliente smell.
Colour is one of the things I have left
Living away from your home country changes things.
My food is not the same. My daily language, my social life, my routines, the way people relate to each other, the weather, the pace, the small cultural details, all of it changed.
No matter how long I live in Canada, a part of me will always be this Colombian girl trying to make sense of where she belongs.
So colour became one of the things I kept. It is one of the ways Colombia still shows up in my life, even when everything else looks different.
When I paint with bold colours, the greens, pinks, oranges, yellows, blues, and all those bright combinations that feel alive to me, I am not trying to be loud just for the sake of being loud. I am reaching for something familiar, something rooted that reminds me of who I am.
Tropical plants make walls feel alive
Leaves, flowers, and colour help me bring warmth and movement into a space.
On a practical level, plants are also incredible for murals.
They move beautifully across a wall. They can be soft or dramatic. They can fill a large space without feeling stiff. They can wrap around corners, frame lettering, create rhythm, or make a blank wall feel warmer almost immediately.
A big leaf can change the whole mood of a space. A flower can become a focal point. Also, plants give me a way to bring softness into the city without making the work feel quiet or too delicate. They can be bold and generous at the same time. That is something I love.
It is not just decoration
I think sometimes people see my murals and assume they are simply decorative.
Yes, murals can absolutely make a space more beautiful, but for me, the plants and colours also carry identity, memory, migration, and belonging.
They carry the feeling of trying to stay connected to a place that is no longer your everyday life. They carry the grief of distance, but also the joy of still having something that feels yours.
For years, I tried to tone parts of myself down. I tried to fit in, to be easier to understand, to be less "too much." But colour always found its way back. At some point, I stopped fighting it. Now I let it be part of the work.
Why they kept coming back
Tropical plants keep showing up in my murals because they are part of my visual language. They connect me to Colombia, to my grandma, to memory, to warmth, to abundance, to a version of myself I do not want to lose.
They also connect with people. Someone might see a monstera leaf and think of their mom's house. Someone else might think of a trip, a garden, a city, a patio, a grandmother, a plant they once forgot to water, or a place that felt like home.
That is the beautiful thing about plants. They can be personal without being closed off. They can come from my story, but still leave room for someone else's.
Colour and plants are some of the ways Colombia continues to live in my work.
A little more life on the wall
When I paint tropical plants, I am usually trying to bring a little more life into the space.
A little more warmth, movement, colour and more of the place I come from, mixed with the place where I am building my life now.
That is why the plants keep showing up.
They are not just leaves. They are memory and connection.
They are one of the ways I keep growing.
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