For almost eighteen years I walked a certain kind of hall.

The halls of the intelligence world. Halls of contracts and labor categories, of the space between the Agency and the Command. Tough places to create in.

The military and intelligence communities are not exactly known for their artistic leanings, which might be the understatement of the century.

I still took my markers out plenty back then. I brought art into that world everywhere I could. But I eventually had to leave, because there was never quite enough room for it on an everyday basis.

Last month I walked right back into that world, this time holding nothing but markers and paint.

Wrote about it a month or so ago, but I was working with a cybersecurity company that had gutted an old office and rebuilt it into the least corporate space I’ve ever walked into.

There was light everywhere with open lines, guitars in the corner, beer (and root beer) on tap, and people doing legit serious work right in the middle of it all.

The job was to paint their whole history across one long wall.

Wrote about that office a few weeks ago in Offices don’t have to suck, and they don’t. Wanted to share some pics of the final mural and the note I left at the end.

The place I never had

At the end of the painting work, I had something of a full circle moment.

Having worked in this world before, doing much of what this group was doing daily, there was a bit of lament of just never had a room like this one to do it in. They built the exact place I used to wish existed.

So I did something I do not usually do after a job like this one. I wrote them a note, and put it on the wall where the mural ends.

A note from the artist

For nearly 18 years, I walked similar halls (filled with boring walls) as many of you. I navigated contracts, labor categories, and different mission areas, flip flopping between the Agency and the Command, never really landing in a place where I could consistently create and feel at ease.

All those projects, all those teams, all those problems needed a permanent space.

Your search for a place where you can train, be mentored, develop new capabilities, prototype, think, and write now exists in the Foundry. All that’s left is your courage to disrupt, advise, be bold, and solve the “what next?”

It is my hope that you will walk along this wall, take a moment to reflect, and enter the Foundry as an artist.

Whether your canvas is a new piece of software, a whiteboard, a math equation to a complex problem, or programmed code, allow the disruptive nature of this new place to guide you to a brighter tomorrow.

Now, having painted your past, present, and future, I see this as a place filled with hope and inspiration. A place where you can make the world less wrong.

Thank you for allowing me the honor to artfully usher you in.

Do I know all the people who will walk past this mural on the way to work each morning? Nope. But I know exactly what it feels like to walk halls that were never built for the way your mind works.

If you are building a place for your people, the kind of place they will want to walk into and stay, keep going.

It matters more than they will ever tell you.

Grateful you are here,

Wade