Creating the painting itself creates a powerful statement to the reader. I asked myself: how can I make this art accessible to people who have the same beliefs as me?

Through a series of bold, thought-provoking sticker designs and flyers, I invited the public to engage in micro-activism—tiny acts of protest placed in public view, where art meets agitation. I gave these stickers away for free—because access to expression should never be behind a paywall. This project is about visibility, reclamation, and the slow, sticky power of subversive design. I engaged the public in quiet acts of rebellion—on water bottles, lampposts, laptops, bus stops. Each sticker is a portable protest, a piece of graphic resistance meant to disrupt complacency and spark thought.

I gave the stickers away for free—to classmates, strangers, and anyone who felt the message resonate. Some peeled and slapped them onto their sketchbooks, phone cases, laptops, water bottles. Others tucked them into sketchpads or passed them on. Each sticker carried a message that challenged systems, called out injustice, and spoke truth through color, type, and symbolism.

The reactions were loud.
Many people were excited, inspired—they felt seen. They praised the designs for being daring, for saying what they couldn’t. Some even asked for extra copies to share. But not everyone was comfortable. A few people responded with discomfort, annoyance, or defensiveness. The messages were too bold, too political, too real—and that friction was part of the point. It sparked conversation.

What surprised me most?
Even some folks with opposing views—self-identified conservatives or Trump supporters—told me they found the design clever or funny. They laughed. They respected the boldness, even if they didn’t agree. The art cracked open a space where political tension could still coexist with visual wit. That nuance—that mix of praise, criticism, and unexpected humor—is what keeps this work alive.