Jillian was a curator at the citys
art museum. Ever since university study, Jillian had been a shining light in
the world of art. Her hard work and innate sense of shape, form and color had
propelled her into the upper echelons of art curation. Her unique feel for
balance and proportion was a fulcrum for the museums many successful
exhibitions.
Jillian had met the artist Pierce at a
gallery reception. Becoming intrigued by Pierces theory of Slash Art,
i.e. tearing up his own artwork to create a milieu for creation rising
from destruction, she spent more time with him. One night back in
Pierces studio, after an evening of gallery-hopping, they made love
amidst his oil paints, torn canvasses, and blades. As Pierce climaxed, she
looked up into his eyes, seeing tiny knives dance around in his
pupils.
9
months later, Jillian gave birth to twins, the babies eyes gleaming as
the nurse cut the umbilical cords with a sharp knife. Pierce looked lovingly at
the twins as he informed Jillian that he would have to leave the country in a
couple of days. I have a commission for a performance art piece in Berlin
to create and then slice up paintings of environmental degradation. It will be
an important statement.
When will you be back? asked
Jillian.
Well I have an exhibition in
Tangier, and then another performance art piece in London, I should be home
after that, he said.
It would be two months later when the
phone rang, and Jillian learned that Pierce had been stabbed to death in a
Tangier back-alley knife fight, leaving her alone to raise the twins, whom
theyd named Clovis and Chloe.
Though beset by tragedy, Jillian looked
forward to raising her children. As Clovis and Chloe grew older, they crawled
around the house, playing together peacefully and happily, though gravitating
toward the knife drawer in the kitchen. Jillian added a lock to the
drawer.
On her day off, Jillian had to make a
brief stop at the museum, and she decided to take Clovis and Chloe with her.
Getting a quick bite to eat at the museum cafeteria, Jillian checked her phone
for messages as the twins took an interest in the plastic butter knives on the
table, surreptitiously putting them in their pockets. On the way to the museum
exit, Clovis and Chloe stopped at a painting and began to slice at its acrylic
surface with the plastic butter knives. Kids, stop that! admonished
Jillian, confiscating their knives and hurrying to the exit, as a security
employee filmed the incident with his phone. That night, Jillian had a dream in
which the days events went differently:
After an uneventful ride in the car,
they arrived at the museum, whereupon their first view of a painting, the
moppets genetic blades sprung forth. Inspired by their father Pierce,
they scurried about, knocking vases off of the shelves, cackling as ceramics
shattered on the stone floors. They moved on to another wing, playfully tearing
into warmly-colored landscape paintings with small knives, while somehow also
throwing smaller canvasses into a bonfire and wiring a detonation device to
explode a group of sculptures. Jillian managed to herd the twins back into the
car and drive them home, as they sliced up the car
upholstery.
A
few days later, Jillian received a severance notice from the museum, based on
the security employees video footage. She wondered whether her career as
an art curator had been cut to pieces. While cooking dinner, Jillian looked out
her kitchen window at women who positively glowed with the responsibility of
childrearing, pushing strollers down the street. Thanks for helping me
fix the salad, kids, said Jillian as Clovis and Chloe wielded the knives
expertly, the gleaming steel blades a blur of motion, chopping and slicing up
the cucumbers, eggplants and carrots.