The Old Masters paint ladies with rough horsehair brushes
and treat them with noxious turpentine.
They blow them up big and dress them in gauzes unpurchasable, silks unperishable:
Beauty (yet) Unattainable.
Lovely Models, art indeed: Made to be admired (but from a distance).
Do. Not. Touch.
and that's "All So Nice" BUT does she breath?
the nuance of a smile formed by Muscle and elicited by Will, is
so much more satisfying a sight to behold than one rendered in static media.
This is not a critique.
this is praise.
Darling, I don't call myself an Artist,
but when we go to galleries to see the Masterpieces...
I turn around, and it's you.
it's all You.
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