Some real food for thought here on the role, and power, of art courageously created.
She crouched in the middle of the gallery floor and we stood outside, watching her. She clung to that spot, naked, neither posed nor at rest, her face turned away from us in base humiliation.
And yet she was looking right at us, her green eyes meeting our own, challenging and defiant.
She looked so alone in that barren space, separated from the rest of us by the windows and the locked glass door.
I wondered how it must feel for her as we crowded around her in the confined space of the gallery floor, looking down on her in mingled loathing, and confusion, and lust.
We had talked about her plan a few days before. At the appointed hour, she would lock herself inside the student gallery (having reserved it for the week) and then disrobe. Lined up in a semicircle around her perch, a row of…
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