Realising a project of this scale in the dense, ever‑shifting fabric of central Athens required a strong local partner. That role was taken on by Awesome Athens Experiences, whose long-standing engagement with the city’s cultural landscape made them a natural fit. Their insight into Psiri’s rhythms, their ability to navigate the neighbourhood’s challenges, and their commitment to treating Athens as a living canvas were essential in bringing the mural to life, especially when the project faced sudden changes, logistical hurdles, and the unpredictability of working in a historic urban environment.

What follows is a conversation with both PichiAvo and Awesome Athens Experiences, a dual perspective on how this idea took shape over more than two years, how a last‑minute change of wall reshaped the project, and why painting Athena in the shadow of the Acropolis feels like closing a long creative circle while opening new possibilities for urban art in Athens.

1. This is your first professional project in Greece and a self‑funded one. What made now the moment to create this “offering” to Athens?

After so many years drawing inspiration from Greek culture, we felt ready to give something back. The timing was right, not only for us, but for our team, which now has the experience to manage a project of this scale independently.

2. What made you decide to support and produce this project with PichiAvo?

We (Awesome Athens Experiences) had followed PichiAvo’s work for years, so supporting their first large-scale project in Athens felt natural. Their visual language bridging classical iconography and graffiti echoes the city’s layered character. The project aligns with our mission to engage with Athens as a living canvas, where contemporary interventions can enter into dialogue with its historical and urban context.

3. You’ve described the mural as a symbolic gesture of gratitude. What has Athens given you that made you feel compelled to give back?

Athens hasn’t only given something to us, but to all of Western civilisation: philosophy, democracy, art. Greek mythology has been a constant source of inspiration in our work and has shaped our creative development. Our practice is deeply rooted in classical art, so it felt like the right moment to offer something back to the city and country that have influenced us so much.

4. The project took more than two years to develop. What was the earliest seed of the idea, and how did it evolve?

We received several offers to paint in Greece, but none matched the kind of project we wanted to create. That’s why we decided to generate our own opportunity, to find funding, manage the production, and develop a project on our own terms. Even then, the project kept evolving. Once we arrived in Athens, we had to change the wall due to circumstances beyond our control, which forced us to adapt very quickly. It was challenging, but we’re very satisfied with the final result.

5. Athena is central to the composition. Which aspects of her mythology felt most urgent to reinterpret for contemporary Athens?

We wanted to represent Athena as the protector of the city. We were inspired by the founding myth of Athens, in which she offers the olive tree as a symbol of protection and sustenance. From there, we established a parallel: just as Athena made her offering to the city, we present this mural as a contemporary offering to Athens.

6. How did you approach merging classical Greek heritage with the visual language of graffiti in a city where antiquity is everywhere?

Present-day Athens is already very close to what our work represents: graffiti coexisting with a strong classical heritage. The city is fully layered, graffiti, posters, paint, tags, all forming part of its visual identity. That superposition of urban elements, combined with a classical image, creates a very natural parallel with our practice.

7. Psiri has its own rhythm and challenges. How did the local context shape your approach?

Psiri is one of the most visually active neighbourhoods in Athens, with deep ties to craft and street culture.

8. The mural sits near the Acropolis. How did that proximity influence your decisions?

We also chose a wall facing the Acropolis, so it becomes a powerful backdrop to the piece. Being so close brings a sense of responsibility, but it also strengthens the connection with the city and its visitors.

9. What were the biggest technical or logistical challenges?

It was also Orthodox Easter, which made it extremely difficult to find equipment. When we finally got a lift, it couldn’t access the street because it’s narrow and full of parked cars. In the end, we used a truck‑mounted crane with a driver, Vangelis who became essential to the project. We also had to improvise solutions for storing materials, accessing water, and managing daily logistics. Many people supported us, especially Kalliopi from Awesome Athens Experiences and Ifigenia from Étero.

10. What were the defining moments of the production process for you?

For Awesome Athens Experiences the whole process balanced planning with constant adaptation: “At one stage, strong local resistance regarding the mural’s visibility forced a sudden change of wall and a full reconfiguration of the technical setup, during a national holiday period. At the same time, the work’s presence in a lived urban environment brought different reactions and interactions, highlighting how public art intersects with everyday life. These moments reinforced that producing large-scale work in Athens is as much about negotiation as execution.”

11. Was there a moment when the piece shifted meaning for you?

For PichiAvo the change of location was the turning point. Rather than weakening the project, it gave it more meaning and strength, especially because of the connection with Pallados Street and the proximity to the Acropolis.

12. How did the local environment shape the process?

“The neighbours and shop owners were very supportive from the beginning. Their help made the process feel more human and shared. The rhythm of the street, the movement of people, the life of the neighbourhood, shaped how the work is experienced.” : recalls PichiAvo

13. You’ve said bringing your work to Athens feels like “coming full circle.” What part of your artistic identity returns home through this mural?

Beyond the connection with classical art, what has meant the most is the reaction from the local community, artists, and the Greek press, who have embraced the work as their own. That sense of acceptance completes the circle.

14. What do you hope Athenians see in this work that others might not?

We hope Athenians recognize the roots of their own culture, Athena as protector, the olive tree as symbol. We hope they see that idea reinterpreted through a contemporary visual language, integrated into the everyday landscape.

15. How do you see large‑scale murals contributing to Athens’ identity?

According to Awesome Athens Experiences: Large-scale murals add new layers to Athens’ already complex visual identity. While the city is shaped by its history, it continues to absorb contemporary expressions. Such works shift how people experience the city, creating new points of reference and new ways of engaging with Athens as a living, evolving environment.

16. What role do you hope this mural plays in Athens’ evolving cultural landscape?

For PichiAvo: “We hope the mural endures over time and becomes valued as part of the city’s cultural landscape. Perhaps it can serve as a point of connection, bringing graffiti closer to a wider audience and contributing to a better understanding between graffiti and the public.”

For Awesome Athens Experiences: “We see this project as part of an ongoing route. Works like this can open new possibilities for scaling and increasing the visibility of urban art in Athens. Moving forward, we aim to develop more site-specific projects that engage with the city’s evolving cultural landscape.”

Athena’s Homecoming.

In the end, what makes this mural remarkable is not only its scale or its technique, but the way it settles so naturally into Athens’ visual landscape. On Pallados Street, Athena doesn’t feel imposed, she feels inevitable, as if she had always been waiting for this wall. The classical and the contemporary meet without friction, blending into the layered textures of Psiri: the tags, the posters, the stone, the noise, the centuries of stories compressed into a single neighbourhood.

By placing their Athena here, facing the Acropolis yet rooted in the everyday life of the street, PichiAvo have created a work that bridges eras with disarming ease. It becomes part of the city’s rhythm from the moment you see it, a new point of reference, a fresh landmark that feels instantly at home. In a place where history is always present and the urban landscape is always shifting, this mural doesn’t compete with Athens’ past; it converses with it. And in doing so, it becomes something rare: a contemporary intervention that feels timeless, and graffiti finally comes home.

Where to find this mural

If you want to be graced with the majesty of this contemporary Athena and experience this offering to Athens up close, finding the mural is effortless. It’s pinned on the free Street Art Cities app and on the website, where the geolocation feature guides you straight to its wall in Psiri. Once you’re there, mark it as seen, drop a like, and help keep this piece alive within the global street art community.

1. From intial spark to the finished mural

This idea was in our minds in a rough way since a lot of time, but we never found the right context or specific way to use it.

When Klima Biennale proposed us their topics and when we saw the wall with its peculiarities, we visualized this kind of structural approach and we decided to work on it.

2. Your work often deals with systems and interconnections, how did you translate the climate crisis into this idea of a “controlled, almost simulated” natural environment?

We work since years on the perception that humans have of nature because we think that this relationship is incredibly symbolic of a wider vision of how human systems, for the way they’re structured and for their economical politics, inflict damage in themselves.

From this point of view, we see a very detached perception both of the social and the natural environment, primarily given by the politics that have been carried out and from the values that these have expressed and express; a lack of empathy and a lack of awareness that we think could be translated and resumed in the idea of something that could be disposed of at will, without implications.

In this idea, climate crisis easily became a simple object with very simple references: something that’s very clear, easy to read, but still apparently far, belonging to another dimension; something that seems to be easily managed and especially managed on the base of human will.

3. ‘Souvenir’ uses the language of play and assembly kits. What made this visual metaphor the right vehicle for such a heavy topic?

As written, this is one of the ways we choose since years to symbolize the relationship between humans and nature.

Moreover, there are also the materials (the plastic) that could look playfull, but that in our vision have also a sad side and could be seen also as a violent transformation, and there is the structure itself, that suggests fragility, forcing and the idea of a distorted and anthropocentric perception of reality.

4. You describe an “apparent lightness” that hides deeper tensions. How do you balance visual appeal with critical urgency without diluting either?

This is an aspect on which we try to work since the beginning of our path and of course it is based on our our sensitivity and on our personal vision, and for that reason we cannot completely judge if we’re really not diluting one of the sides. Said so, our aim is exactly to try to find the balance between these perspectives, “playing” with the elements to enhance the interaction, both with people and with the place, to create a communication based on a common base in which to evoke all the ideas or the connections we want to address. We think that this contrast between the lightness and the weight of the topics, for the way we like to communicate, is an interesting way to propose the subjects and to evoke feelings, but of course for each project we have to think carefully specifically on this delicate balance and ask ourselves each time what we’re communicating, how it can be read and the, of course, decide what to do on the base on our, already mentioned, sensitivity, personal vision and experience.

5. Industrial materials like plastic appear prominently. What role does this material symbolism play in the narrative of the piece?

The plastic here is a strong element for many reasons. At first we have natural elements converted in an artificial material, and this already talks about the detachment we see in the perception humans have of their environment and about the attitude of disposing of natural resources at will.

Secondly, we have a connection with industrial production, pollution and waste, since plastic is strongly involved in all these aspects.

Last but not least, we have a reconstructed, not real, environment, that together with the title of the artwork, could evoke both the superficial translation of an urgency in a simplified and weakened version or a merchandising object (so with another relation to production and economical aspects), and a reproduction of something from the past, so that’s no more existing.

6. “Souvenir” suggests memory, distance, and reduction. What do you hope viewers will remember, or realize, after encountering the work?

Exactly what you wrote: memory, distance and reduction are at the base of the idea. As we are aware that someone will perceive the artwork in its own personal way (and we like it), what we hope is to evoke feelings about it and about the topic it is about, where then everyone can proceed with their own chain of thoughts. In general, we would love that people would feel the contrast between the playful aspect and the urgency that it’s represented, or in any case just to recognize the narrative that’s inside it.

7. The mural implies that nature has become something we observe rather than inhabit. How does this idea reflect your broader artistic practice?

It is one of the main ideas on which we work on:

The idea of perceiving the position we have in an overall balance is strongly present in our work since the beginning, and this is why, even outside of the natural subjects, we always worked with elements that could talk about it. We think, as for example, about our astronauts, that we have always used as a representation of a different perspective, of someone that’s able to see the planet / the human condition from the outside, as a whole; our painted reflections of the real places, that are mirrors, a way to connect and confront the subjects that are involved (including the place and the viewers).

8. Vienna is a city with strong environmental discourse. Did the local context shape the way you constructed the mural’s message?

Yes, in the way we’re been invited by a Biennale centered on the climate and environmental aspects, that’s something that strongly represents the sensitivity of its contexts. Then of course, we’ve been invited specifically because these are the topics we usually work on and try to address, so there was no need to shape our mural message, but we surely found a context in which comunicate directly.

9. Your work often highlights the consequences of human systems. What specific “altered relationships” did you want to make visible here?

The idea of detachment from a natural dimension given by the global politics and by the human systems, that appear to have been built for needs other than those of the people, for which they were supposed to be built for. The idea of a lack of awareness and empathy, so of a superficial perception. The idea of a simplification and of a removal from an overall balance, so from the ability to perceive the problems and possible consequences also if they’re clearly visible. The idea of an anthropocentric attitude.

10. There’s a tension between the playful format and the irreversible processes you reference. What reactions or frictions do you hope this contrast triggers in passers-by?

As written, in this “souvenir” there’s the idea of something that’s disposable, but that should not be seen in this way; and this is the main contrast on which are based all the other concepts related to it. To simplify it a lot, we would like to evoke the feeling that there’s something wrong.

11. If “Souvenir” is a condensed fragment of responsibility, what larger conversation do you hope it opens within the Klima Biennale and beyond?

We don’t know if this will open a new larger conversation, but we hope that it will take part in the existing ones. Because this is also the point:

So our hope it’s just that what we did and what we do could participate in strengthen these conversations, maybe stimulating or channelling feelings and ideas about the overall topic and specifically about the effort of perception that’s required to keep our attention high on the dynamics that surround us.

A fragment of responsibility

In a moment when global conflict keeps pushing the climate crisis out of sight, works like Souvenir insist that the sense of urgency cannot fade. With this piece, Nevercrew compress the crisis into a single, deceptively playful image, a reconstructed landscape that feels both familiar and disturbingly distant. Through plastic, fragmentation, and the visual logic of assembly kits, they reveal how urgency gets softened, how responsibility becomes abstracted, and how our relationship with nature slips from participation into mere observation.

Their aim isn’t to spark a new debate, but to reinforce the ones already underway, to sharpen perception, stir discomfort, and keep our attention fixed on the systems shaping the world we share.

About the artists

NEVERCREW is the Swiss artist duo of Christian Rebecchi and Pablo Togni, who have worked together since 1996 across mural painting, installation, and sculpture. Their practice revolves around the relationship between humankind, nature, and the systems we build, exploring environmental imbalance, social tension, and the ways political and economic structures shape our perception of reality. Known for combining hyperrealism with graphic clarity, they construct “simultaneous visions” where natural and mechanical elements coexist in fragile, deliberate equilibrium. Their interventions in public space aim for both immediate impact and slow reflection, inviting viewers to reconsider their position within larger living systems.

On Street Art Cities, you can already discover 35 of their murals across 16 different countries, tracing the global arc of their ongoing dialogue between people, place, and planet. Give them a follow in the free Street Art Cities app and don’t miss a thing.

Where to find this mural

If you want to experience Souvenir up close and feel that quiet tension for yourself, it’s easy to find. The mural is pinned on the free Street Art Cities app and on the website, where the geolocation feature guides you straight to its wall in Vienna. Once you’re there, mark it as seen, drop a like, and help keep this piece alive within the global street art community.

In Santiago’s La Florida district, an 11‑story figure stands with her back turned—anonymous, tender, and impossibly present. Chilean artist Javier Barriga has long painted women without visible faces, but in Florida, that anonymity becomes a kind of invitation. Without a fixed identity, the mural opens a space where viewers can project their own memories, emotions, and inner landscapes. It becomes universal precisely because it refuses to tell you who she is.

About the artist

Before we step into the conversation, it helps to understand the artist behind Florida.
Javier Barriga (1987, Santiago, Chile) is a painter and muralist who has built a visual language rooted in simplicity, chiaroscuro, and emotional resonance. A self‑taught painter from the age of 15, later trained as a designer at the Pontifical Catholic University of Chile and further refined at the Florence Academy (Florence and New York), Barriga moves fluidly between canvas and public space. His figures, often women seen from behind, braided, resting, emerging from darkness, invite viewers into a story that is never fully told.

He embraces austerity as a strength. His compositions are quiet, unadorned, and deeply human, offering a universal emotional entry point regardless of context or generation. Light reveals his characters as if they were surfacing from a comforting dusk, creating a romantic, timeless atmosphere. And despite the challenges of working from Chile, he has chosen to root his career there, committed to enriching public space and reinforcing collective identity through muralism.

With that foundation, Florida becomes more than an 11‑story mural, it becomes a continuation of a lifelong search for intimacy, silence, and emotional clarity.

1. Why paint women from behind, without a face?

For Barriga, anonymity is a portal. Without a face, the viewer steps in, projecting their own memories and emotional landscapes. “The work becomes something alive, something that gathers meaning through the viewer’s inner world.”

2. The blouse in Florida feels like a character. Why textiles?

Javier’s drawn to craftsmanship and faded tones, a quiet visual language. “I’m drawn to sobriety in color. I prefer to create a sense of stillness rather than noise.”

3. You’ve compared mural painting to church frescoes. How so?

Large‑scale painting, for him, carries a sacred charge: a bridge between people and something unnamed. “Someone might call it God. I call it art.”

4. Your process is slow and meticulous, but the street is fast. How do you balance that?

Oil painting taught him patience; the street demands urgency. His murals sit between those tempos, inviting passersby into a slower rhythm.

5. What changes when the figure is 26 meters tall?

“I’m always searching for something subtle, a gesture that feels unforced, almost accidental.”
Even at monumental scale, Barriga chases intimacy. The body becomes a quiet presence rather than a spectacle.

6. Silence appears often in your work. Why?

In the chaos of the city, he paints toward a pause, a moment where someone might stop, feel, remember. “Silence becomes a form of resistance.”

7. How does emotion shape your realism?

He paints from longing: missing his son while suspended twenty meters above the ground. “When melancholy is fully lived, it can give a work immeasurable force.”

8. What responsibility does public art have in the city?

“Honestly, that battle is already lost,” he laughs, referring to advertising’s dominance.
But he believes in smaller gestures:

9. You’re planning new large-format work in southern Chile. What shifts in a rural context?

Javier’s drawn to rural life, yet returns to familiar motifs, seascapes, horses, chickens. “There’s something more complex beneath that repetition. I’m still trying to understand it.”

10. After all these years, what’s still evolving?

“Technically, I’ve become something else entirely… faster, less attached, more precise.”
The themes remain, but the process keeps shifting.

Where to find this monumental mural?

If you want to stand beneath Florida and experience the quiet force of Javier Barriga’s work for yourself, finding the mural is effortless. You can locate it instantly through the free Street Art Cities app or on the website, where the geolocation feature guides you straight to the wall in Santiago’s La Florida district.

On a personal note: ever since I first saw Javier’s work in Boulogne‑sur‑Mer, I’ve been intrigued by the intimacy his murals radiate, a tenderness that somehow deepens precisely because you never see the face of the women he portrays. Florida carries that same magnetic quietness, amplified to monumental scale.

Once you’re there, don’t forget to tap into the community features: mark it as seen, give it a like, and help keep this powerful mural alive on the global street art map.

If Florida leaves you wanting to explore more of Javier Barriga’s universe, Street Art Cities makes it effortless. With the app, you can follow him directly, keep track of every new mural he paints, and make sure you never miss his latest work ,whether it rises quietly in Santiago or appears unexpectedly on a wall halfway across the world.

In Porto Alegre, a 45‑meter figure rises over the future Italian Consulate, not a hero from official archives, but the woman history forgot. In MADRE, artist Hanna Lucatelli brings to the surface “a trace… something left behind, but still pulsing in the present” .

Lucatelli centers the unnamed women of Italian immigration, those who crossed oceans without choosing to, who carried families through fear, labor, and silence. She paints femininity not as decoration but as structure: “a strength that doesn’t need rigidity to be monumental… the ground, the foundation where a new history was planted”.

We took time to talk with Hanna and curator Giulia L. Lupo about this monumetal work which will become a landmark for Porto Alegre.

When you first began imagining MADRE, what was the very first image, emotion, or memory that surfaced for you?

The first image that came through me was a trace... something left behind, but still pulsing in the present. I felt a silent weight, the echo of everything that was never said or recorded in the official histories of immigration. It was an act of reclaiming, as if I needed to give form to a presence that had always been there, but that history insisted on keeping in the shadows.

This mural starts from a deceptively simple question: Who was the woman who crossed the ocean 150 years ago? How did that question guide your early sketches and your emotional approach?

That question led me toward the invisible, toward what happens in the gaps between the great historical facts. In the records, we find many names and references to men, but almost none to women. My emotional search was for the body that sustained the daily life of that crossing and kept memory and traditions alive through every small gesture. The early sketches tried to capture the fear of the unknown, the hope, the courage, and the life that has to continue, in spite of everything.

You’ve said that femininity is a source of inspiration in your work. In MADRE, how did you translate that into form, gesture, or symbolism?

I translated it into a strength that doesn’t need rigidity to be monumental. Her gesture is one of shelter, but also of foundation; it is a body that receives and that projects. Femininity in MADRE is not an ornament, it is the structure itself. She is the ground, the foundation where a new history was planted and cultivated. I used forms that suggest embrace and protection, but that carry the solidity of someone who holds up the world on unstable ground... having to be her own safety.

The mural consciously shifts the narrative of Italian immigration by placing the woman at the center, a figure often marginalized in official memory. What aspects of these women’s stories felt most urgent for you to reclaim?

My intention was to humanize these women, to pull them out of the role of silent supporting characters. It is urgent to remember that, in most cases, they had no power over the decision to leave; they were carried by a choice that was not theirs, but that they had to sustain with their own bodies. To reclaim this history is to speak about the courage of those who cross an ocean in fear, without choice, without preparation, but with an enormous responsibility in their hands. They were the architects of a new existence, the ones who, even without a voice in the decisions, ensured the continuity of life and traditions in a foreign land.

There’s a sense of sacredness in the way you describe this figure, “immense, inevitable.” What makes this woman sacred to you?

The sacred, for me, lies in the almost divine capacity to generate and sustain life in the face of the abyss... and I don’t mean only her children, but herself and everyone she ends up caring for. The inevitable is her presence... the presence of women in the construction of history, even without the power to decide. She is sacred because she is the guardian of affective memory, the force that kept dignity and humanity alive through the hardships of every new beginning.

This mural is 45 meters high, a scale that transforms the city’s skyline. How does working at this magnitude change your creative process or your relationship with the figure you’re painting?

In practical terms, working at this scale demands rigorous technical adaptation... The figure has to be drawn and painted with the ground in mind, with proportions and gestures calibrated to create connection regardless of where the viewer is standing, whether up close, from a distance, from a car, or from a window.

As for the figure herself... I build her gradually, through fragments. She is born at a small scale, in a digital version. The first day of painting feels like the beginning of a labor... I start my ritual and ask permission for her to arrive. I feel her presence, but I cannot see her. From the top of the building, I see only patches of color, textures, and isolated parts. My relationship during the execution is with mystery... The face is always the last thing I paint. It is the moment when the work finally looks back at me and the encounter happens. At that moment I close the ritual and give thanks for having been chosen to bring her to that place.

The mural sits on the future Italian Consulate, in a highly visible part of Porto Alegre. How did the site itself influence your composition, your palette, or the emotional tone of the work?

For murals like this one, in another city, I often have to arrive with an initial project before I’ve ever set foot in the location... especially for bureaucratic approvals. So I try to meditate and stay open to whatever needs to come while I immerse myself in the research. It is an exercise in surrender and trust. When I arrive, I adapt the work to the site in more practical terms, according to the best sightlines, proportions, and the color palette of the surroundings. These days I try to create a painting that feels as though it was always there, as though it grew from that space rather than being imposed upon it, but that is still capable of interrupting the rhythm... creating a counterpoint of silence and permanence within the flow. As for color, I chose tones that wouldn’t shout, colors that would stay. That the work would age alongside the city and continue to make sense many years from now.

When you think about people encountering MADRE from the street, from cars, buses, or on foot, what do you hope their first impression will be?

I hope she stops people in the middle of their path... That someone on their way to work, dropping a child at school, or heading home looks up and feels something they cannot immediately name. I want MADRE to open a crack in the heart. To make people think about the woman beside them, the one who came before, the one who held the family together in silence, the one who had no choice but kept moving forward anyway. I want MADRE to give women back the place that history insisted on erasing: the center. Not as a symbol, but as a real, monumental, and inevitable presence.

Migration is both a historical theme and a deeply contemporary one. How do you see MADRE speaking not only to the past but to the migrant experiences unfolding today?

The pain and courage of leaving are universal and timeless feelings. But when I think about migration today, I also think about a state that many women carry permanently... a constant sense of not belonging, of insecurity, of searching. Women are in migration all the time, not only geographically, but symbolically. Searching for places, spaces, relationships where they can exist with more safety and warmth. Where they don’t have to justify themselves to occupy the space that is already theirs.

MADRE speaks to that as well. About the right to arrive and to stay. About the courage of those who leave without guarantees and rebuild their lives with their own hands. She is a mirror for any woman who has ever felt she needed to move in order to survive, whether crossing an ocean, crossing roads, or crossing herself.

The children beside the central figure represent new generations, life renewed. What did you want these younger figures to express about continuity, identity, or belonging?

The girl in red is not just any child... she is the eldest daughter. The one who already looks forward alongside her mother. The one who already carries in her body the awareness that responsibility also belongs to her. Red is not innocence; it is presence, it is strength, it is the color of someone who has already begun to understand the weight of being a woman in this world.

She represents the silent transmission that happens between women across generations... not through words, but through gestures, glances, and examples lived in the everyday. The mother doesn’t need to explain anything; the daughter already feels it. She already knows that one day it will be her turn to hold what needs to be held.

The other children are the horizon... they are what that crossing made possible. They don’t carry the weight, they don’t know the fear of departure, they don’t know what it cost to get here. And that is exactly as it should be. Because that is precisely what the mother wanted: for them to simply exist, to belong, and to flourish in this land as if it had always been theirs.

This project was conceived with curator Giulia Lavinia Lupo. How did your dialogue with her shape the conceptual direction of the mural?

It was essential to have a woman producer who connects with the act of making art in the same way I do... not only as a creative process, but as a ritual. Giulia understands painting as something that goes beyond technique and aesthetics; she feels the spiritual weight of what is being built. That resonance allowed the project to be carried with a depth that is only possible when two people are willing to go deep together. I feel that we didn’t just produce a mural... we built a portal. And drawing an analogy to the mural itself, Giulia was the boat that gave me the safety to make that crossing. Working with her has always been like that.

The Consulate described this mural as a “gift” to the gaúchos and to the Italian community in Rio Grande do Sul. How did that sense of offering influence your approach?

I received that definition with an immense sense of responsibility. From the beginning, I wanted MADRE to be a work that could reach anyone, regardless of their ancestral history. I sought universal symbols and gestures that could connect those with Italian roots and those without, those who know this history and those who encounter it for the first time on that corner. A true gift does not choose who it moves. My intention was to offer a mirror where anyone could see something of themselves and their own story reflected with depth and poetry.

As an artist, what did you discover about yourself while creating MADRE?

I discovered that my painting is, more and more, an exercise in connection with the invisible and in surrender. MADRE also confirmed to me that to do good work I need to be surrounded by people vibrating at the same frequency, with open hearts.

If the woman in your mural could speak, not to history, but to us today, what do you imagine she would say?

This is the kind of question I prefer to leave unanswered. I believe art is made in that space between the viewer and the work... and I don’t feel I should fill that gap with words. That silence is also part of the work.

And finally: when you step back and look at this towering figure, what do you hope endures? What do you hope future generations will read in her presence?

I hope what endures is the awareness that we are made of courage and of affections that cross oceans, real and symbolic.

About the artist:

HANNA LUCATELLI is a visual artist, muralist, and mother.

Born in São Paulo in 1990, she grew up in an intense and dynamic city that shaped her perspective and way of creating.

Her work stems from a desire to connect, with people, with the city, and with time, creating small moments of pause within the fast pace of everyday life. In her work, the female figure emerges in a strong yet sensitive way: bodies that occupy space, assert their presence, and invite reflection, bringing the feminine closer to the urban environment.

In a simple and personal way, her research seeks to reconstruct the collective imagination around women, representing their strength, courage, and complexity, far from stereotypes or idealizations.

Her work also approaches spirituality and proposes a reconnection with historical references, creating links between memory, territory, and identity. Through an intuitive process, she explores symbols and atmospheres that transcend time, building images that engage with local traditions and sensibilities in a respectful and contemporary way.

For Hanna, art is a form of dialogue. More than painting walls, her practice aims to awaken another kind of attention, more open, more mindful, more human.

Where to find this monumental mural?

If you’re ready to stand beneath MADRE and feel her presence for yourself, finding the mural couldn’t be easier. You can locate it instantly through the free Street Art Cities app or on the website, where the geolocation feature guides you right to the wall from wherever you are. Once you’re there, don’t forget to tap into the social features, mark it as seen, give it a like, and help keep this monumental work alive in the global street art map.

MURAL M1NUTE is a series diving into the stories painted across the globe. Every episode zooms in on one wall, one artist, and one idea that shapes the city’s visual identity. From hidden alleys to iconic facades, we unpack the meaning, the craft, and the community behind each mural, always in under a minute. It’s a fast, accessible way to explore how the street art world speaks through color, texture, and imagination.

The guardian who awakens at sunset

At the heart of the piece stands 星の守 (Hoshinomori), “The guardian of stars.”. By day, she is serene and grounded. But when the sun sets, her expression shifts: her hair reveals an infinite forest of stars, a cosmic landscape that watches over the neighborhood. Her gentleness toward her surroundings mirrors the care she extends to herself, a reminder of the reciprocity between beings and the worlds they inhabit.

This duality also echoes Reskate’s long‑running Harreman project, where murals reveal hidden layers under light. Hoshinomori extends that exploration of perception and connection, bringing the Harreman spirit into a new cultural context.

A tapestry of Japanese symbolism

Reskate’s tribute to Japanese culture is woven directly into the mural’s visual language.

• The star motif draws from shippōtsunagi and marutsunagi, traditional patterns symbolizing infinite connection and balance.

• The sweeping movement of her hair nods to Hokusai’s Kanagawa oki nami ura, transforming the iconic wave into a celestial current.

These references don’t imitate; they converse, blending Spanish storytelling with Japanese visual heritage.

A forest of stars, and someone beloved among them

During their time in Japan, Reskate often thought of their dear friend Amaia Arrazola (who sadly passed away last year) and her deep love for the country. Knowing that Amaia is now part of this forest of stars brings comfort, a presence felt rather than seen, woven into the night sky of the mural itself.

First time in Japan

“We got a private commission to intervene on a building in the district of Yotsuya in Tokyo with the concept Hoshinomoiri, which means ‘the guardian of stars’. We painted the mural for 6 days. The whole production went smoothly, except for some days of snow. It was nice living and working there, and having the chance to take our time to make the most of the journey. We stayed for 3 weeks, so we could visit many places without the need to rush. We really admire the respect people show towards others in the public space. It is amazing how clean and organized everything looks. Also, even in huge cities, the respect and connection people show for nature in the parks is admirable.”: shared the duo with us.

Local mural scene.

When asked if they got in touch with the local scene: “We wish, but we found no chance. We got in touch with the people of Wallshare in Osaka, but didn’t have the chance to meet. However, we visited some traditional print shops because we are passionate about traditional printing techniques.”

What comes next

“We need to prepare our next exhibition that will come after this summer in Barcelona. It will be about our photo‑luminescent project Harreman. We are producing new handcrafted screenprints that will be presented exclusively together with other works produced with other techniques. We will announce the opening and you will all be very much welcome!”

Is Tokyo a must visit Street Art City?

Tokyo isn’t just the backdrop for Hoshinomori, it’s one of the world’s most exciting cities for urban art exploration. With 100+ curated locations mapped on the Street Art Cities platform, the city offers a mix of hidden gems, large‑scale murals, sticker culture, and neighborhood‑specific aesthetics that shift from district to district.

By downloading the Street Art Cities app, visitors can discover all these spots, navigate them easily, and even share their own finds, helping the global community see Tokyo through fresh eyes. And while you’re there: follow Reskate in the app and don’t miss their latest art.

PRO TIP: book a tour with local guide Elena to get a full on experience

Book here