In March 2020, at the start of the pandemic, an activist, an artist, and filmmaker came together and formed what would become the Chinatown Mural Project. I am Karlin, a lifelong resident of Chinatown, and for years I had wanted to bring murals back to this neighborhood, ever since they disappeared in the early 1980s.
As fear spread through community, I started the Chinatown Block Watch to help neighbors feel safe. That’s when I met filmmaker Lou Wang-Holborn, who wanted to document life in Chinatown during the shutdown. Around the same time, PS 23—the elementary school I attended—was devastated by a fire. While organizing a rally to save it, Lou introduced me to artist Peach Tao. The day before the rally, Peach painted two dragons onto the construction wall surrounding the school. Watching her work—fast, focused—I was struck by her skill. I asked her, “Do you do larger murals?” She said yes. And the Chinatown Mural Project was born.
Our first mural, “Noodle Shop,” went up in August 2020. People stopped. Children pretended to sit on the painted stools. Elders paused with quiet smiles. It reminded us that art can restore spirit. It felt like the neighborhood was breathing again. It told the community: We are still here, we still belong.
Murals create conversation. A child points and asks. A parent explains. Culture survives through curiosity and dialogue. In a rapidly gentrifying Chinatown, murals are a statement of identity—not nostalgia, but continuity.
I’m not an artist. Peach paints. Lou documents. I find the walls, prep them, and paint inside the lines. “It’s therapeutic,” I say. It slows me down from a hectic life.
What I get is simple: the joy of contributing to something that preserves our culture and history. The murals remind people that this neighborhood has heart.
The Chinatown Mural Project is a small 501c3 nonprofit and survives solely on donations from friends and acquaintances, since we do not receive any government funds or grants.
As fear spread through community, I started the Chinatown Block Watch to help neighbors feel safe. That’s when I met filmmaker Lou Wang-Holborn, who wanted to document life in Chinatown during the shutdown. Around the same time, PS 23—the elementary school I attended—was devastated by a fire. While organizing a rally to save it, Lou introduced me to artist Peach Tao. The day before the rally, Peach painted two dragons onto the construction wall surrounding the school. Watching her work—fast, focused—I was struck by her skill. I asked her, “Do you do larger murals?” She said yes. And the Chinatown Mural Project was born.
Our first mural, “Noodle Shop,” went up in August 2020. People stopped. Children pretended to sit on the painted stools. Elders paused with quiet smiles. It reminded us that art can restore spirit. It felt like the neighborhood was breathing again. It told the community: We are still here, we still belong.
Murals create conversation. A child points and asks. A parent explains. Culture survives through curiosity and dialogue. In a rapidly gentrifying Chinatown, murals are a statement of identity—not nostalgia, but continuity.
I’m not an artist. Peach paints. Lou documents. I find the walls, prep them, and paint inside the lines. “It’s therapeutic,” I say. It slows me down from a hectic life.
What I get is simple: the joy of contributing to something that preserves our culture and history. The murals remind people that this neighborhood has heart.
The Chinatown Mural Project is a small 501c3 nonprofit and survives solely on donations from friends and acquaintances, since we do not receive any government funds or grants.
