The hems of my yellow silk skirt collected concrete dust as I bravely stepped past the line of ladders and up to the Wall. As the people on the Wall gathered about to sneer and snicker, I hung it by myself, standing my ground in my sturdy souled shoes, with nothing but a hammer, a step stool, and long silver nails designed to last.
I call this painting Wonder, and created it just for this spot. A few weeks back, I saw a Short Waves report about the latest fingernail scratching on the leaden, slate Wall. I couldn't get the sound out of my mind. It was a common scenario. One fist clamped to their ladder, the other clawing at their neighbor as they tried pushing them off in order to get to the top. The sound of fingernails and the ladder scraping on the slate was excruciating.