Art in the Professions
Imagine, if you will, eating the same food for years. Is it lobster? Is it macaroni and cheese? Pizza? Sushi perhaps? Now imagine it on the first day. Imagine it on the fourth day. Imagine it on the forty-forth day. Then the ritual turns into months upon months, until finally the years are a blur. Would pizza be a prize or a punishment, after years?
My thirtieth commission was what they had all been, women in peril. The stage and script were identical: elbows tight, chest out, a nefarious beast with the damsel sporting an occasional look of panic or pleasure. The money was good, the clientele nice and the at