The wall is weathered now. If you stand at the corner of 38th Street and Chicago Avenue in South Minneapolis, the first thing you notice isn't just the art; it's the weight of the air. This specific spot, now known globally as George Floyd Square, holds a piece of history painted onto the side of Cup Foods. The George Floyd brick wall mural has become one of the most photographed, debated, and visited landmarks in modern American history. It’s a blue backdrop. A yellow sunflower halo. A list of names that seems to go on forever.
People come from all over the world to touch the brick. They leave flowers that wilt in the Minnesota humidity or freeze in the brutal winters.
But honestly, the story of this wall is a lot more complicated than just a tribute. It’s a story of community reclamation, some pretty intense local politics, and a global shift in how we use public space to process trauma.
Why the George Floyd Brick Wall Became an Icon
When artists Xena Goldman, Cadex Herrera, and Greta McLain started painting just days after May 25, 2020, they weren't trying to create a "tourist destination." They were reacting. The mural was a visceral response to a neighborhood in pain. They chose the brick wall of the grocery store where the 911 call originated—a choice that was both symbolic and controversial.
You've probably seen the image a thousand times on Instagram or the evening news. Floyd’s face is central, flanked by a sunflower. Inside that sunflower are the names of other Black individuals killed by police. It’s a memorial, sure, but it’s also a ledger.
What most people get wrong is thinking this was a city-sanctioned project. It wasn't. It was grassroots. The artists worked fast. They used spray paint and acrylics. They were surrounded by protesters and a community that was literally on fire. That raw energy is baked into the layers of paint on that brick.
The mural transformed the facade of a standard convenience store into a cathedral of sorts. But that transformation brought massive friction. For months, the city struggled with how to manage the "Free State of George Floyd." Concrete barriers went up. The brick wall became the backdrop for a semi-autonomous zone where police didn't enter for a long time.
The Evolution of the Art
Public art is never static. It breathes. Over the last few years, the George Floyd brick wall has seen touch-ups, weather damage, and even minor acts of vandalism that the community quickly repaired.
✨ Don't miss: Who Has Trump Pardoned So Far: What Really Happened with the 47th President's List
Initially, the mural was much simpler. As the days turned into weeks, more details were added. The names in the sunflower petals grew. The surrounding walls of the building were covered in "say his name" graffiti and posters. It became a collage. If you look closely at the brickwork today, you can see the texture of the masonry underneath—the rough, red Minneapolis clay peeking through the blue paint.
It’s interesting because "street art" is usually meant to be temporary. This was different. The community demanded it stay. When Cup Foods tried to reopen and resume normal business, the mural stood as a silent witness. It created a weird, tense dynamic between a local business trying to survive and a movement that viewed that specific corner as sacred ground.
The Fight Over 38th and Chicago
Ownership is a tricky word here. Who owns the wall? Technically, the building owner. But morally? The neighborhood claims it.
The George Floyd brick wall sits at the heart of a debate about "gentrification through memorialization." Since 2020, the intersection has faced immense pressure. The city wanted to reopen the streets to traffic. Protesters wanted a permanent pedestrian plaza. The mural was the anchor for the "24 Demands" issued by the 38th Street Community.
Basically, the wall became a shield.
- It served as a backdrop for the daily 7:00 PM community meetings.
- It acted as a focal point for the "Say Their Names" cemetery nearby.
- It functioned as a classroom for visitors who didn't understand the history of systemic issues in the Twin Cities.
There was a moment in 2021 when the city tried to "quietly" move things along. They brought in front-end loaders. They tried to clear the barriers. But they couldn't touch the wall. The wall was the one thing that couldn't be towed away or swept into a dump truck.
Beyond the Paint: The Science of Public Memory
There is actual psychological value in these brick-and-mortar memorials. Dr. Janet Wise, a specialist in community trauma, has often pointed out that having a physical location to externalize grief is vital for collective healing. The George Floyd brick wall isn't just "content" for social media; it’s a site of pilgrimage.
🔗 Read more: Why the 2013 Moore Oklahoma Tornado Changed Everything We Knew About Survival
When you see someone standing in front of that wall, they are often silent. They are processing. This isn't like a monument in Washington D.C. that was planned by a committee over ten years. It’s messy. It’s on a grocery store wall. That lack of "officialness" is exactly why it resonates.
It reminds me of the murals in Belfast or the graffiti on the Berlin Wall. It’s "protest art" that transitioned into "monument art."
Preservation Challenges
Brick is porous. It breathes. It also absorbs moisture and cracks when the temperature swings 100 degrees between July and January. Preserving a mural on a working building is a nightmare for conservators.
There have been talks about moving the brick, piece by piece, to a museum. The Smithsonian has expressed interest in artifacts from the square. But the community mostly says no. To move the George Floyd brick wall would be to strip it of its context. It belongs on that corner, in that neighborhood, facing that street.
If you visit now, you'll see a protective coating has been applied to help the colors stay vibrant against the UV rays. It’s a constant battle against the elements.
What Most People Miss About the Location
If you only look at the mural, you’re missing half the story. The brick wall is part of a larger ecosystem. Across the street is the George Floyd Global Memorial, a non-profit dedicated to preserving the thousands of offerings left at the site.
They have archived:
💡 You might also like: Ethics in the News: What Most People Get Wrong
- Handwritten notes on cardboard.
- Gas masks used during the riots.
- Paintings on plywood that once boarded up nearby windows.
The mural is the "face," but the soul is in the archive. People often think the mural is the only thing there, but the entire block is a living museum. The "Fist" sculpture in the middle of the intersection, the garden, and the murals on the neighboring buildings all speak to the same event, but the brick wall remains the primary destination.
How to Visit Respectfully
If you're planning to see the George Floyd brick wall, don't just treat it like a photo op. It’s not a background for your "lifestyle" brand.
- Be Quiet: People are often there mourning. It’s a cemetery-like atmosphere.
- Support Local: Buy a coffee from a shop in the square. The businesses there have been through hell and back.
- Read the Signs: There is a lot of educational material posted around the wall. Take the time to read it.
- Don't Touch: The oils from your hands can degrade the paint over time.
Honestly, the best way to experience it is to just sit on the curb across the street for twenty minutes. Watch the people. Listen to the wind through the various flags and banners. You’ll see family members of other victims of police violence. You’ll see tourists who look lost. You’ll see locals just trying to get their groceries.
The Global Legacy of a Brick Wall
The George Floyd brick wall in Minneapolis sparked a global movement of similar murals. From Syria to Nairobi to Manchester, the image of Floyd on a blue background was recreated. It became a universal shorthand for a specific kind of struggle.
But the original remains the most potent.
It’s a reminder that art isn't just about beauty. Sometimes, art is about marking a spot and saying, "This happened here, and we won't let you forget it." The brick wall at 38th and Chicago is a permanent scar on the city's landscape—but it's also a badge of resilience.
As we move further away from the summer of 2020, the wall’s role is shifting. It’s moving from "breaking news" to "historical site." This transition is tricky. How do you keep the urgency of a protest alive in a permanent monument?
The answer is in the community. As long as people gather at the wall, as long as they hold vigils and feed the hungry in the shadow of that brick, the mural remains alive. It isn't just paint on a building. It's an active participant in the neighborhood's survival.
Actionable Insights for Engaging with Public Memorials
- Educate yourself on the local context: Before visiting any site of trauma, read local news sources like the Minneapolis Star Tribune or Sahan Journal to understand the current neighborhood dynamics.
- Understand the difference between protest art and street art: One is designed to disrupt; the other is often designed to beautify. The George Floyd mural is a hybrid.
- Contribute to preservation: If you value these sites, look into the George Floyd Global Memorial. They are the ones doing the actual work of making sure these stories don't disappear when the paint eventually fades.
- Reflect on your own space: Look for "hidden" histories in your own city. Every town has a "brick wall" that tells a story people might be trying to ignore. Find it and learn about it.