Day 3 of this experience was my last day of rest before the next work week began. To keep from covering up my healing back, I’d spent most of the weekend with a light chill. The warmth of the hot water collecting in the tub was as delicious as it was fleeting.
The skin around the tattoo was intensely itchy and sensitive. However, I’ve been getting mild stress-induced rashes for the past decade and a half, so it wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. Once again, I was in awe of what my body could withstand. Moreover, a visceral connection was beginning to form between knowing that my body would be repairing itself and understanding what that work feels like. It was confirmation that all these years, I had been underselling my strength, my resiliency, my worth.
Of course, propaganda has always had its place in art and society. Conditions most conducive to the creation of art require a donor, and by their nature, donors require a level of control. The art in a society reflects the values of the wealthy by its mere existence–that it was plucked from the studio or streets and placed in a position of prominence–is the most base level of control. In more pervasive ways, art that is given high visibility is also assigned importance by the viewers and recreated until one can’t even go into Target to buy a new toilet brush without seeing a printed canvas emblazoned with Audrey Hepburn’s face and done up in bright Pop Art colors. To one extent, this is just life. Art is good for the spirit. Beauty is an important aspect of life. To another extent, this homogenization of art and culture is dangerous. Homogenization dulls the senses and makes an enemy of the unusual. Without the unusual, tipping points aren’t reached. Challenges to movements and thought patterns become interpersonal squabbles over who can get the most at any given time. But even if it seems like it, art doesn’t die. It just goes underground so it can begin to repair.
(Artist & Muse)
~End of (P)art 3~