Branded: Two Art Pieces Born from Rage, Shame and a Need to Speak
The Catalyst: When Public Stories Strike Personal Chords
In 2023, the sexual assault allegations made against Russell Brand triggered a wave of conflicting emotions in me, anger, disbelief, betrayal, and a deep sense of knowing. His public denial, cloaked in self-righteous spiritualism, echoed a script that many of us have heard before. The powerful man positioning himself as the true victim, while the voices of his accusers were cast into doubt.
“innocent until proven guilty,” they said. But why is the reputation of a man so often valued over the pain of many women?
What struck hardest was not just the allegations themselves, but the overwhelming sense of déjà vu. A familiar narrative: charismatic man, troubling rumours, devoted followers, and a media circus that inevitably shifts focus away from the women brave enough to speak.
The Silence Within the Noise
Brand’s denial, his claims of consensual encounters, and the conspiratorial lens through which he framed the accusations, ignited something visceral in me. Not just rage – but grief. Grief for how normalized this pattern has become. For how we all instinctively know what happens next: the doubt, the backlash and degradation of the women and the defence of the man and his reputation.
There’s a weariness in watching this play out. A recognition, that I don’t have the energy to fight this battle again. And in that space, I turned to art.
Branded: Art as Protest, Catharsis, and Witness
“Branded” is a diptych – two separate works born from the emotional wreckage stirred by the allegations. Each piece reflects a distinct state of being. Together, they document a journey from internalised shame to embodied fury.
Slumped Paper Woman on Floral Fabric
The first piece features a brown paper-cut woman, faceless and slumped. She rests on a bed of floral fabric – outwardly delicate, inwardly empty. This piece speaks to the social training given to girls from a young age: to smile, to accommodate, to not make a fuss, to stop lying. To: be a good girl, he didn’t mean it like that, and my particular stamp: “why do you have to always upset everyone?”. The image represents the weight of hearing these voices at the expense of expressing one’s own. The second piece stands in direct contrast.
Paper Woman Torn to Reveal Floral Fabric
Here the brown paper image of a young woman has been attacked; slashed, it’s raw and violent, a reflection of rage long buried beneath years of self-policing and silence. Yet, even in the destruction, something soft emerges: the floral layer beneath, the buried beauty, the child within.
“I didn’t expect to cry when I made it – but I did. I didn’t expect it to heal me – but it did”.
These pieces aren’t easy to look at, when you know the story. My wife, deeply empathetic, prefers them turned to the wall. But I’ve grown to love them, not because they’re beautiful but because they are my raw truth. They hold space for a story that belongs to many more women than just me.
The Weight of Disbelief
Perhaps the most disheartening part of the public reaction was not Brand’s denial, but how quickly many rushed to his defence. The idea of a “trial by media” became more important to some than the possibility that dozens of women may be telling the truth. And among those voices were women, lots of women. Women I admired, even trusted, women who didn’t even like him. Conversations became difficult. Some ended. And I began to understand, again, how deeply patriarchal systems train us to mistrust each other.
“When women defend abusers over each other, it’s not always cruelty. Sometimes it’s conditioning.
Watching the World Watch Him
As of early 2025, Brand has officially been charged with multiple counts of sexual assault, following lengthy investigations by UK authorities. The trial is expected later this year. This development marks a critical moment, not just for those directly involved, but of a global audience reckoning with celebrity, power and accountability.
We watch now with cautious hope. Will the world finally centre women’s voices in these conversations? Or will fame continue to shield the men at the cost of many, many women?
Why She Needs a Wall
Right now, Branded sits at home. Hidden. But she shouldn’t be. The young woman I painted deserves to be seen. Her story, and the stories she symbolises, are still unfolding all around us, every day, globally.
“Art has power. It can be political, painful, beautiful and defiant.“
In sharing this work, I hope to start conversations. About trauma, about trust, about solidarity. About how we learn to see each other and ourselves, again. And maybe, in doing so, we make it a little harder for our voices to be ignored.
