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Solange nicole

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“Haksızlık, ihanet, utanç... Artemisia bunları hiç yorulmadan renklere döküyordu. Esin kaynaklarını tarihteki büyük kadınların gururlu mücadelesinde derinleştiriyordu. Yalana karşı koyan, İncil'deki kadın kahramanlar. Zorbalığa başkaldıran, efsaneleşmiş çehreler... Judith tuvallerinde, baştan çıkardığı despot kralı öldürerek halkını özgürlüğe kavuşturuyordu. Yael, düşmanının şakağına çekiçle vura vura bir çivi çakarak ailesinin geleceğini güvence altına alır. Lucrece hançerine, Kleopatra da yılanına sarılır: Her iki kadın da daha güçlü olanın yasalarına boyun eğmektense yaşamlarına son verirler. Kılıç, zehir, hançer, Amazon kadınları, günahkarlar, baştan çıkaran kadınlar, Marie-Madelaine, Galatee, Esther ve Bethsabee, hepsi de aşk ölüm ve özgürlük arasında çırpınırlar, Hepsi de zafer kazanır.”

“Did somebody die?” “Yes,” I replied. “Who?” he asked, starting to freak out. I pulled out my notepad and asked him if he knew a Marcie Tucker. “Marcie? Hm, Marcie, it doesn't ring a bell but… Oh yeah, the temp who's filling in while my regular assistant is out, I think her name is Marcie. In fact, she was supposed to be here today. I was actually starting to worry that… Wait. Is she…” “Unfortunately yes,” I said, “Marcie was found in her apartment late last night uh… no longer alive.” My bedside manner has never been my strong suit. Dr. Taggart looked distressed and began to ramble incoherently for a minute. I let him work through it though, I figured it was his way of grieving. I wouldn't have even paid attention to it except for the fact that it was kind of goofily, ineptly… well, poignant: "Oh, uh, Oh my God. That's terrible. I uh… I hope she didn't have any family. I mean, I don't hope she didn't have any family, what I mean is, if she uh… if she didn't have any family then there would be nobody to get all bummed out about this and uh… you know, when something like this happens, you always think about the poor, heartbroken family, so uh… if she doesn't have any family then uh… the bright side would be that nobody would, you know, have to be all bummed out." Hm. I guess I never thought of it that way. Awkward wording aside, he's kind of got a point there.”

“He thought, that all men, trickled away, changing constantly, until they finally dissolved, while the artist-created images remained unchangeably the same. He thought that the fear of death was perhaps the root of all art, perhaps also of all things of the mind. We fear death, we shudder at life’s instability, we grieve to see the flowers wilt again and again, and the leaves fall, and in our hearts we know that we, too, are transitory and will search for laws and formulate thoughts, it is in order to salvage something from the great dance of death, to make something that lasts longer than we do. Perhaps the woman after whom the master shaped his beautiful Madonna is already wilted or dead, and soon he, too, will be dead; others will live in his house and eat at his table- but his work will still be standing hundreds of years from now, and longer. It will go on shimmering in the quiet cloister church, unchangingly beautiful, forever smiling with the same sad, flowering mouth.”