I got most of my day's NaNoWriMo requirement out of hte way on the train today. I forgot how exciting writing can be. It's kind of amzing the things that come to you when you aren't looking for them. I'm not sure where most of this came from for instance, but I like it.
Zarah's subjects always seemed to be holding something back from the viewer, even when they were looking you straight in the face. She painted watercolors of half naked women carrying jugs of water on the heads, poised with natural grace, she painted herself with eyes dark and open, she painted cacti that seemed to keep their own counsel, she painted the ladies Liberty and Justice and all the other women forced to bear the symbols of their oppressors and freed them from their prisons of copper and marble so they might stroll around the park or have a cup of tea in a bustling cafe. These last works in particular captivated me and failed to reveal their secrets. Had Zarah freed these symbols of Truth and Justice and The American Way from their status as symbols and given them human form? Or had she taken everyday women and invested them with the gravitas and layered meanings of the symbols? When I questioned her about it she smiled slyly and said, "Yes."