Apollo's Rebellion

A Woman by David Walker

Suddenly, the woman winks at me and shrinks down to face me. Her body is a black outline and her hair flows in the wind as she beckons me closer. I move towards her, cautious at first, but then more confident.

“Hi,” I say, “Who are you?” She remains silent, still beckoning me closer toward her. I move closer, still a bit careful. Suddenly, she starts running away, her dress flying behind her and her bare feet thumping on the sidewalk. I follow her quickly, trying to keep up with her pace.

She leads me to a corner street where two cartoon boys are playing basketball. She runs up to them and whispers in their ears. They both look at me in and drop their ball. It bounces on the grey sidewalk and rolls down the street leaving a trail of orange behind. I want to go after it, but the boys stop me, shaking their heads.  One turns to his friend and says something inaudible. His friend laughs and they all run off down the street.

 I follow them again; curious to see what was so interesting that they would just abandon their game of basketball. The colourful woman leads the way as we pass dozens of bare grey walls. As they run past them, they leave splashes of colour. Bright pinks and blues and purples. I watch in awe as the colours mix with each other and start forming shapes. Some of them get up and dance around while others just flop down and change shape.

We finally reach another wall with a ballerina, all dressed up in her tutu and up on her tiptoes. The two basket ballers stop and try to copy her, one on either side. She abruptly breaks and looks at both of them with burning disgust. They put their hands up innocently and hide behind the colourful woman. The woman says something, using her entire body to convey her message and the ballerina’s expression softens. I try to lean in closer to hear what they are saying, but they notice and start running away again.

“Wait,” I say, “I’m not going to hurt you.” I follow them again as the streets get quieter and the walls more colourful. Where could they possibly be going?

I finally catch up with them on a deserted warehouse wall. At first, it’s just the four of them talking. The ballerina going spins and the basketball players trying to show her some hip hop moves. Then more and more people start some. Some outlines of strange creatures, others silhouettes of lovers and even a blue owl. I watch in amazement as SpongeBob and a Victorian industrial worker share a refreshing drink with a rainbow unicorn.  Charlie Chapman starts tap dancing around everyone and I can see distinctive black shoeprints being left behind by his shoes. He tips his hat at me and I bow gracefully. I watch as more and more characters arrive. Before I know it, the dirty grimy warehouse wall is magical blend of colours and imagination. 

I pull out my camera to take a picture of the fantastical scene happening before my eyes and just as the camera flashes, the image captured forever, the wall is grey again. Everyone has disappeared and I am left to wander the streets alone.

Author's Note:

I seem to have a lot of these notes at the end of my essays, but sometimes I feel it necessary to tell you where I get my inspiration from and how one thought could lead to another. "Wild Beauty" was a topic given in our English creative writing exam. I had written on a different topic, but when I was thinking about the topics later on I thought of this as a descriptive. So, ten at night, I Google searched "street art" and I drew inspiration from the pictures above. I wan't originally going to post this, but I decided to give it a try. I've always been fascinated by street art ever since I saw a mural at the end of Cowey Road in the Berea, Durban. Every time we go to visit my dad's mother I know I'm going to see that wall and every time it's a different painting. I have no idea who paints and if it is the same person every time, but it does put a smile on my face. It's always interesting to hear people's views on Street art, some say it isn't an art form and people shouldn't do it, where as others, like me, believe it to be a way of beautifying a dull world. That's what I tried to capture in the essay above and really hope I succeeded.