I just returned from the seaside with my family. My daughter turned one and took her first steps – uncertain steps, with her arms stretched out for balance, but full of determination. I think of her as I stand in front of the largest white wall I’ve ever intended to paint. Perhaps we’re both taking our first steps toward something new.

Amazon was setting up their new headquarters and, by some miracle, someone had the confidence to entrust me with transforming these sterile walls. The mission seems simple at first glance: to illustrate the 14 Amazon leadership principles through representations of various ballet poses. But when you stand in front of 400 square meters of white walls, simplicity evaporates instantly.

I came with my modest tools – industrial acrylic paint, washable lime, and a few classic brushes. One of the large brushes I got from the hardware store, it’s actually one that craftsmen use when whitewashing. I tell myself that sometimes the most authentic art is born from the simplest tools.

The first day on the construction site hit me like a punch to the stomach. I work in the afternoons, when the construction workers finish their job. The headquarters is still under construction, and I paint where the offices are ready. The air conditioning system is being tested – it’s 35 degrees outside, and I’m shivering inside in my t-shirt. When it stops, sweat makes my movements heavy. It’s a constant battle with the elements, but also with my own limits.

The size of the first mural – 3m x 10m – seems overwhelming. I start with a sketch of a ballerina to illustrate “Customer Obsession”. The line must be precise, expressive, conveying the grace of ballet but also the rigor of Amazon’s principles. My hand trembles slightly at the first contours.

In the evening I come home exhausted, with my back broken and my hands stained with paint. My daughter runs toward me with those still uncertain steps, but full of joy. In this moment I realize that we’re both learning to walk – she in the physical world, me in the artistic one.

On the third day I start to get into the rhythm. The color palette takes shape – red, blue, green, orange – in harmony with the space’s arrangement. Each color seems to find its natural place on the wall, as if it had always been there.

Today I finished the first complete mural. When I stepped back to look at it, I felt for the first time in my life that what I do has real value. It’s not just the satisfaction of a successful drawing – it’s something deeper. It’s recognizing my own worth as an artist.

I’m in the second week and my body begins to revolt. In the morning I wake up with tense muscles, but enthusiasm gives me energy. I see how the space transforms day by day. The walls come to life, putting into my head the idea that art isn’t just about beauty – it’s about transforming spaces and the people who populate them.

The sprays from the air conditioning system sting my eyes, but I continue. I’ve already drawn 8 murals and I’m starting to see the whole. Each ballerina carries within her a story about principles, about movement, about transformation.

Last night, late, doubts overcame me. “Is it going well? Does the concept work? Will they be satisfied?” My daughter sleeps peacefully navigating through the world of childhood dreams, and I sit wondering if I have the courage to see it all through.

In the morning I answer myself: yes, I must.

The third week was a race against time. 15 murals, most of enormous dimensions. My arms are constantly sore, but my hand is increasingly confident on the wall. Each line knows where to go.

When I finished the last mural and stepped back to look at the whole, I experienced a revelation. For the first time in my career, I felt that my art doesn’t just exist, but that it matters. The satisfaction is double – professional and material. My artistic work is finally rewarded.

But along with fulfillment comes fear. Was this the peak of my career? Will I be able to create something equal, or better? How do you continue after a perfect moment?

I look now and realize that all my fears are unfounded. This project wasn’t the end – it represented the beginning. Here I learned that art is about communication, about transforming spaces and people. It taught me to believe in my own worth.

When I visited that headquarters again accompanied by my little girl and my wife, I no longer saw just 15 wall drawings, but 15 lessons about courage, frugality, perseverance and the power of art to give meaning to the spaces where we live and work. I see my daughter too, who now runs through the house with confident steps, and I remember that sometimes the first steps are the most important in our lives.