You’ve probably seen them. If you’ve spent more than twenty minutes wandering through the Jeppesen Terminal or heading toward the baggage claim at DIA, you’ve definitely felt their energy. Most people just walk by with their rolling suitcases, but then they stop. They stare. The Denver Colorado airport murals are arguably some of the most analyzed, feared, and misunderstood pieces of public art in the entire world. They’re weird. Honestly, they’re a little scary if you’re catching a red-eye and you're already low on sleep.
Leo Tanguma is the artist behind the two most famous (and controversial) works: "In Peace and Harmony with Nature" and "The Children of the World Dream of Peace." For decades, these sprawling canvases have fueled more conspiracy theories than almost any other location in the United States. People talk about the New World Order. They talk about secret underground bunkers. They talk about prophetic warnings of a global apocalypse.
But here’s the thing.
When you actually talk to Tanguma or look at the history of Chicano muralism, the story changes. It’s not about some shadowy elite group. It’s about the environment. It’s about war. It’s about the hope that we don't eventually blow each other up.
The Soldier, the Gas Mask, and the Scimitar
Let’s get into the one that everyone takes pictures of. You know the one. It features a massive, gray-clad soldier wearing a gas mask. He’s holding a scimitar in one hand and a machine gun in the other. He’s literally stabbing a dove. It’s aggressive. It’s dark. It’s not exactly the "welcome to Colorado" vibe most people expect when they’re looking for the nearest Starbucks.
The mural "The Children of the World Dream of Peace" is actually a narrative. It’s meant to be read from left to right, like a book. If you only look at the middle section—the part with the gas-masked soldier—it looks like a celebration of death. But if you keep walking, you see the resolution. You see the children of the world, dressed in traditional folk costumes, handing over their weapons to a German boy who is hammering them into plowshares.
It’s an old biblical trope. Swords into plowshares.
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Tanguma has stated in multiple interviews that the soldier represents the destruction of war and the "killing" of peace. The mural was painted in the early 90s, shortly after the Cold War ended. The fear of chemical warfare and nuclear annihilation was still very much a part of the cultural psyche. By showing the horror, Tanguma was trying to emphasize the beauty of the peace that follows. Still, the imagery is heavy. It's visceral. It doesn't apologize for being uncomfortable.
Why People Think the Murals Predict the End of the World
Conspiracy culture loves Denver International Airport. It’s the perfect storm of weirdness. You have the dedicated "New World Order" capstone in the Great Hall. You have Blucifer, the giant blue horse with glowing red eyes that literally killed its creator, Luis Jiménez. And then you have these murals.
The "In Peace and Harmony with Nature" mural is the one that really gets the "depopulation" theorists going. In the first half, you see people weeping over open coffins. There are extinct animals in glass cases. The forest is on fire. A woman in the background is holding a Mayan tablet that some suggest refers to the end of a calendar cycle.
Basically, it looks like the end of the world.
But look at the second half. The colors shift from browns and grays to vibrant greens and golds. The extinct animals are back. People are celebrating a rejuvenated earth. It’s a classic environmentalist message: if we don’t change our ways, we lose the planet; if we do, we save it. It’s not a secret code for a global elite. It’s a very loud, very public plea for conservation.
The Missing Pieces and Recent Moves
If you’ve been to DIA recently, you might have noticed things look different. The airport has been under massive construction for what feels like an eternity. Because of the Great Hall Project, the Denver Colorado airport murals were actually put into storage for protection. This, of course, sparked a whole new wave of rumors. People thought they were being censored or hidden because they "revealed too much."
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In reality, they’re just being moved so they don't get covered in drywall dust.
The airport authorities have actually leaned into the weirdness lately. They’ve put up signs that say things like, "What are we doing? A) Building a secret underground city B) Improving the airport." They know people think the place is a fortress for the Illuminati. They think it’s funny.
But for Tanguma, the art is serious. He was a student of the great Mexican muralists like Siqueiros and Rivera. Those guys didn’t paint pretty pictures of flowers; they painted social struggle. They painted the ugly parts of humanity so we’d be forced to look at them.
A Quick Breakdown of the Narrative Flow
- Destruction: The imagery of fire, extinct species (like the passenger pigeon), and grieving families.
- The Catalyst: The soldier representing military-industrial might and the death of innocence.
- The Turning Point: Children from every nation coming together to surrender their tools of destruction.
- The Resolution: A restored Earth where humanity lives in balance with nature.
What Most People Get Wrong About the "Secret" Symbols
There are details in the murals that people obsess over. For instance, there’s a small girl holding a piece of paper. Some theorists claim it’s a map of a secret bunker or a list of people to be eliminated. If you actually look at it—and I mean really look at it—it’s a drawing of a map. It’s part of the "Children of the World" theme.
Then there are the "strange" words on the floor near the murals. People think they’re alien languages or secret codes. They’re actually Navajo terms for different mountains in Colorado and various minerals. They’re a nod to the local indigenous history of the land the airport sits on.
Public art at this scale is rarely subtle. When you’re dealing with an airport that covers 53 square miles, you can’t really go for "minimalist." You go for big. You go for loud. You go for something that makes a traveler stop mid-stride and think, even if that thought is "What on earth am I looking at?"
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The Artist Behind the Chaos
Leo Tanguma isn't a shadowy figure. He’s a Chicano activist and artist who has spent his life painting murals that tackle social justice. He’s from Texas originally but has deep ties to the Denver art scene. When he was commissioned for the DIA project, he wanted to create something that reflected the global nature of an international airport.
He didn't want to paint mountains. Everyone else was painting mountains.
He wanted to talk about the human condition. He wanted to talk about how we treat the Earth. If you look at his other work in Denver, like the murals at the Chicano Humanities and Arts Council (CHAC), you’ll see the same themes: the struggle of the worker, the importance of family, and the ever-present threat of violence.
How to See the Murals Today
Because of the ongoing renovations, the location of the Denver Colorado airport murals can be a bit of a moving target. Most of them are historically located in the Jeppesen Terminal, specifically on Level 5. However, with the construction walls constantly shifting, you might find some of them temporarily obscured or relocated to different concourses.
If you’re hunting for them, look for the signage regarding the "Art at DIA" program. The airport actually has one of the most robust public art collections in the country, with over 40 permanent pieces.
What to Look For When You Find Them
- The Details in the Glass: In "In Peace and Harmony with Nature," look at the animals in the glass cases. They represent species we’ve already lost. It’s a graveyard of biodiversity.
- The Costumes: Notice the incredible detail in the traditional clothing of the children. Tanguma spent a significant amount of time researching authentic folk dress to ensure global representation.
- The Hidden Figures: There are small figures in the background of the "war" mural that represent the victims of real-world conflicts from the 20th century.
The Denver Colorado airport murals aren't just background noise. They’re a challenge. They’re a heavy, slightly terrifying, ultimately hopeful look at what it means to be alive in a world that feels like it’s constantly on the brink of something. Whether that "something" is a disaster or a breakthrough is up to us.
Actionable Insights for Your Next Layover
- Don't Rush: If you have at least 30 minutes between flights, take the train to the terminal. Most people stay in the concourses (A, B, C) and miss the best art.
- Check the Official Map: Use the FlyDenver art map to see which pieces are currently accessible. Construction is unpredictable.
- Look Beyond Tanguma: While the murals are the stars, don't miss the "Mountain Mirage" fountain or the "Experimental Phonetics" installations.
- Verify Your Sources: If you hear someone talking about "secret tunnels" or "alien bases," just remember that the airport's most "suspicious" features—like the automated baggage system—were actually just massive engineering failures that cost a lot of money, not a conspiracy.
- Document the Changes: If you see a mural has been moved or updated, take a photo. The "story" of the airport art is constantly evolving as the building grows.
The murals are a rare example of a public space refusing to be boring. They demand a reaction. Even if that reaction is confusion, it’s better than the soul-crushing beige of a standard airport hallway. Next time you're in Denver, give yourself the time to actually read the walls. You might find they’re saying something much more human than the internet would have you believe.