Last time I saw her in the Musee D'Orsay, it was December in Paris and the city was icy and grey. There were chunks of ice floating down the Seine. I ate Laughing Cow cheese and baguettes in my hotel room. I slipped many times on the sidewalk.
She was hung against a red wall. As if the curators wanted to goad you into judging her. Here's Manet's painting of a naked prostitute and her maid, the red wall says. What a harlot!
When I saw her, I thought, lady, that's a kick ass blanket you've got there. Like something out of an Anthropologie catalogue. But styled more...naked. And racial.
