In her watercolor paintings, K. inserted herself into the world of animals as a form of self-othering. K. exposed reveries of alterity in her body of work. Her work was known for its idiosyncratic fantastic realism. After Postprandial Somnolence ended, silence took over. She changed ateliers. She changed galleries. She changed her painterly stroke more than once. Time after time, her next solo show was postponed, yet, no cancellation. Was she too broke to afford paint? Was she too bored to splash paint? Was she too dog-tired? Was she lost in introspection? We can never know for certain what goes on in another person’s mind.
Besides, did K. know K.?
Nonetheless, a date was set for DOWN DOWN DOWN the rabbit hole. This time the date remained set in stone. The gallery’s walls were repainted, the works were displayed and cataloged, wall text and captions were applied to the walls, the floor was mopped, and the door was thrown wide open. K.’s friends came. Collectors attended as well. Some art critics came as well. They ate finger food, and there was talk of art gossip. K. looked ravishing. She received compliments stoically. She had one, two, three glasses of white wine. She smiled at the pink elephant in the room. A room filled with silent sorrow. For this solemn show, K. took grief head on. No one asked whose grief. Or why. Chickens. The opening came to a closing. K. left. And, that was the last time anyone had seen her with certainty.