Olivia Jordan

Learning Boldness in Mexico

Over Christmas break in 2025, my family and I went on an MSC cruise through the Caribbean. Between the ocean views and the holiday lights on the ship, the colors in Mexico completely changed the way I think about art.

The moment we stepped off the ship in Costa Maya, everything felt vivid. Buildings were painted in bold pinks, bright blues, warm oranges, and sunny yellows. Murals covered walls with tropical flowers, sea life, and patterns that felt joyful and alive. In Cozumel, I saw hand-painted tiles, woven textiles, and small shops filled with artwork that celebrated everyday life. Nothing felt muted or hesitant. The colors were confident.

Growing up in Texas, I am used to wide skies, neutral tones, and natural landscapes. I love subtle palettes and soft transitions in my own drawings. But in Mexico, I saw a different philosophy. Color was not just decoration. It carried identity. It expressed history, pride, and celebration.

One mural I remember showed a woman in traditional dress surrounded by bright flowers and deep turquoise waves. The outlines were strong. The contrasts were bold. There was no fear of intensity. That confidence stayed with me.

I realized that color can shape emotion just as strongly as composition or line. A bright red wall does not whisper. It speaks, loudly and confidently. A deep blue background can feel calm and grounded, or powerful and mysterious, depending on how it is used. The artists I saw were not afraid of saturation. They embraced it.

The experience also made me think about culture and storytelling. Much of the artwork reflected local heritage, nature, and community. Even small souvenirs felt personal and handmade. The art was not separate from daily life. It was part of the streets, the markets, and the architecture.

As someone who loves both music and visual art, I began thinking about color the way I think about sound. In orchestra, dynamics create emotion. A sudden forte can surprise you. A soft passage can make you lean in and listen closely. In Mexico, color felt like dynamics in visual form. Bright hues were like musical crescendos. Softer tones were like quiet passages.

Since coming home, I have noticed subtle shifts in my own artwork. I am more willing to experiment with contrast. I am braver about using stronger colors instead of staying in my comfort zone. That trip reminded me that art does not always need to be restrained to be meaningful. Sometimes it can be vibrant, joyful, and unapologetic.

Travel often teaches me through buildings and design. This time, Mexico taught me through color. Costa Maya and Cozumel showed me that art can celebrate culture openly and boldly. It can fill a street with energy. It can turn a simple wall into a story. And now, when I open my sketchbook, I sometimes hear the echo of those bright streets by the sea, reminding me not to be afraid of color.