When I was a kid in the 70s in Melbourne, Florida, there was a house where the owners painted huge murals of 19th century nautical scenes. The entire house was the painter’s canvas. I cherished the times we drove by that house. I thought it was beautiful. And you never knew when it would get repainted into a new battle scene.
I remember hearing that the neighbors hated it and people complained. And then one day we drove by and it was all white with green shutters. I don’t know if the owners moved away or were pressured to conform.