The artist made this work just because she could.

But the powers that be were not amused. It was thought that the work was destroying the order of our civilization. It must be stopped and further, all signs of the first work had to be destroyed, covered up as if it never was

The artist was unmoved. She did it again, regardless of the fate of her first work. It was her joy, and gave the hours of her life meaning. For what other purpose was she made, but for this very thing?

She did not resent the powers, and she gave them no mind.

I saw her work, and was impressed by the layers. The artful strokes showing an admirable strength, and the mix of medium were unusual.

Perhaps this work was destructive. But I was moved none the less.

and a portrait of the artist