Jodie Ahern

Bad Times on Blaisdell collage and watercolor

Three years ago I moved into a newly built townhouse on Blaisdell Avenue, within walking distance of the museum. The townhouse had a new security system and detached garage, and the landlord lived next door. I never even thought to feel threatened.

One morning my landlord discovered graffiti spray painted during the night, in dark green letters on our building’s garage, where all my neighbors could see. In a large, drunken scrawl read the words, “Jody Ahern is a slut and whore.”

I met with police and discussed possible suspects and motives. I had no idea that anyone who knew me and knew where I lived felt that kind of hatred towards me. I could not point a finger at anyone. And yet the truth was, someone I knew—or someone who knew me—wanted to hurt and embarrass me. Because my landlord wanted to clean the building immediately, the police suggested I get my camera and take pictures of the graffiti, for possible evidentiary use in case I was further harassed. I took the pictures, and had them developed. I was embarrassed to pick them up. They looked lurid and accusatory. I had to keep them, so I tucked them away in my studio taboret.

Redemption at Richelieu pastel and watercolor

The garage wall was cleaned, but I could still see the words. I felt unsafe, watched, stalked, angry, and ashamed. I became nervous and suspicious, especially when I took trash out to the alley, where someone had lurked one night, hating me.

Eventually I bought my own condominium in a nearby neighborhood. It’s in a brownstone building that has character and history, and its devoted association members watch out for one another. When I moved in, a sense of safety returned. But upon unpacking the boxes in my art studio, I came across the photographs. They were a jolt of ugliness. I couldn’t destroy them, but they reminded me that someone who hated me was “out there.”

So I made them into art. I painted a fierce watercolor picture of my former townhouse building and plastered its side with the photographs. Then I made a pastel picture of my new building, warm and soft.

When I look at the first picture, I no longer feel hunted and shamed. I see that I have turned around a liar’s accusation. I have rejected his/her intimidation and put the graffiti out for everyone to see. I have exposed the spray painter’s cruelty. When people see this picture, it is the graffiti artist who is shamed, not me.

When I look at the second picture, I see home, I see victory, I understand why I make art.