The 12-by-16 foot mural was mounted two weeks ago on the front of the Winchester Cultural Arts Center in a dedication ceremony.

Brian Porray, 30, who grew up in Las Vegas, superimposed the image of the imploding Landmark Hotel on a futuristic backdrop from the "Speed Racer" video game.

The idea was to depict the past being swept aside to make way for a more colorful and expansive cityscape, a recurring theme in the dynamic Las Vegas valley.

"I find the image to be wildly optimistic," said Porray, an artist who has done work for the county before. "It feels to me like a space shuttle taking off, although it's a building imploding. Vegas gets to be this weird, quirky place that blows things up and tries something new."

A film clip of the Landmark's 1995 implosion was used in the movie "Mars Attacks!" Porray said the geek in him loves the sci-fi connection.

The Friends of Winchester Public Arts Committee chose Porray's work from about 80 submissions.

Porray received $2,000. It cost about $2,700 to produce a print of his computer graphic and install the steel framing to hold the mural.

The arts committee paid some of the cost with donations. The remainder was covered with money left over from the city of Las Vegas' centennial fund.

The vinyl mural was weatherized and should last for at least five years before being replaced with a different centennial mural, said Patrick Gaffey, who oversees the cultural center and the county's visual arts program.

Catherine Borg, a visual artist who sat on the committee, said it's unusual for a mural that illustrates destruction to mark a milestone. But committee members agreed that the mural fits with the area's continual quest to reinvent itself, she said.

"As dark of an image as an implosion is, it speaks volumes about what is the core of what makes Las Vegas, Las Vegas," Borg said.

Standard commemorative art would show historic figures at a monumental event, or workers building a well-known structure, she added.

Porray's mural is indeed imbued with symbolism.

The warm hues, reminiscent of a sunrise, exude a sense of hope. The racetrack suggests a new direction. The brightness exemplifies Vegas gaudiness.

However, metaphors were lost on some visitors. In fact, the implosion's amorphous silhouette left them puzzled about what they were seeing.

"It's gorgeous!" Jeff Chaney gushed, before conceding: "I didn't know what the hell it was. Excuse my ignorance. I don't know nothing about art."

Porray offered Chaney the space shuttle interpretation, but the mural admirer was already walking away.

Mary Quinn, who was entering the center, said she couldn't tell it was an implosion. "I like the colors," Quinn said.

Porray remembers as a child how the Landmark's concrete tower jutted out of the desert like a monolith. The Landmark was a doomed venture, its opening delayed for years and its weak finances forcing the hotel to close for long periods.

As a teenager he watched the Landmark implode, one of the first hotel casinos in the valley to be razed this way. Porray left Las Vegas in 1999 and when he returned a few years ago, the area had transformed.

Gone was the Vegas of his childhood.

Still, he isn't sentimental about preserving the old. The area's ability to morph into something drastically different in five years makes it far more exciting than most urban areas, which never change their basic look, he said.

"It's constantly in flux," he said. "The innovation and invention is insane."

Contact reporter Scott Wyland at swyland@reviewjournal.com or 702-455-4519.