What we don’t look after goes up in flames

This mural turns a plain concrete-block wall into a burning forest at dusk. Tall, slender birch trunks rise in silvery grey, outlined in bold black with the characteristic dashes and knots of their bark. Their branches spread upward and tangle together at the top, where the sky darkens into smoky purples and magentas.

Behind the trees, the background moves from deep violet through blazing orange and a glowing yellow band at the centre, down to rust red and brown near the ground. The soft, airbrushed gradients look like a sunset, but the title invites a darker reading: this is a forest on fire, the horizon swallowed by flames and smoke. At the base of the trunks, pale wisps of white and grey drift like ash or mist, a quiet reminder of what remains after the blaze.

The composition continues around the corner, with the trees repeating in rhythm along both walls so that anyone walking past feels surrounded by the forest. On the far right, the palette shifts to crimson and pink, as if the fire is spreading beyond the frame, and the decorative ironwork of a door becomes part of the scene.

The contrast is what gives the piece its force. The trees stand calm and still, almost serene, while everything behind them burns. Set against the weathered, crumbling building in the background, the mural turns a neglected corner of the town into a message about carelessness and consequence: the things we fail to protect, whether forests, landscapes or communities, are the ones we lose.