I have the deep-rooted fear, instilled from a strict childhood, of being told off. The moment I recognise the severe, questioning tone, my heart will triple its speed and panic sets in through a flush of heat making my skin feel like it’s coming out in cold sweats. I have recently reacquainted myself with breaking the rules and rebelling, consequently I am also experiencing moments of panic and the need for more deodrant. However, like any rebel will know, the adrenalin rush of doing something “bad” is like a drug that fuels excitement and vivacity, and it feels good!
My recent escapades have involved me going out into my local area (meaning I am only 4 minutes from my safety den if I need to run!) and painting Sassy images onto a row of MDF boards put up for a work site. I chose this location for my first illegal street art venture because, truth has it, I have absolutely no idea what I am doing. I am just a naïve girl with a marker pen and the idea to make art. So out I go, two times, quickly sketching robust, provocative, strange female figures on the wall. #sassy
The adrenalin rush is enticing but has it all been achieved with a well thought out plan ahead? What if I’m caught. Facial recognition, the streets having eyes, the world having cameras. I will be found and told off! Maybe even fined!! Or arrested!!!
Besides recognising the slightly disappointing truth that I will always be, at heart, a goody two shoes, it took my attempts at street art to understand the following. I experienced an unanticipated feeling of disappointment. I am disappointed in what I have created, wishing I had made an honest piece of work worthy of people’s attention, created with patience and care. Rather than force feeding the poor residents of Hackney Central with two shaking attempts at grafitti. The second feeling is guilt, the emotion which fuels the fear of being told off in the first place. Guilty for wanting to hide myself in mystery rather than owning up to an action which has the potential to be effective if only carried out in a more legal manner. Rather than dubiously marking walls with adrenalin pumping through my body, I want to stand in front of my legally made work, be it on a window or a bin, and say, ‘I made that, this is my voice, hear me.’. Sassy is about sharing thoughts and stories, focusing time and energy on discussing what matters to others and encouraging women to speak openly. Not to hide behind a pseudonym.
Now that my week-long stint of rebellion has come to an end, I can conclude that this Sassy Lady will be strutting down the streets in her shiny Goody Two Shoes, asking permission to fill the walls with Sassy Ladies, spreading the Sassy word inspired by women. At least I will do once I come out of hiding.