Free The Truth Commission by Susan Juby Page A

we dress.”
    Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ms. Choo’s head come up and turn to us.
    â€œIf she doesn’t want to talk about it, she won’t,” said Dusk. There was a stubborn set to her chin. “I’m allowed to ask.”
    â€œLet’s all just relax and enjoy our brushstrokes,” said Neil. “I think it’s good to discuss these things openly. Like Tyler Jones might turn me down. I’m still waiting for him to get back to me. No harm, no foul.”
    â€œDo I need to separate your easels?” asked Ms. Choo, coming over to us.
    â€œNo, ma’am,” said Neil. “We’re just excited about the whole modern brushstrokes thing.” 47

Monday, September 24

    The Truth Is a Daisy
    Zinnia McFarland was a senior on a mission. Multiple missions, actually. Her specialty was protest art.
    Zinnia is a skilled illustrator and a gifted painter, and she uses her talents to “undermine the system.” Her words. She has been arrested multiple times for putting politically minded art—some backward thinkers call it graffiti—on public works, such as bridges, dams, and the steps of city hall. But she goes further than balloon letters rendered in dripping spray paint. She draws and paints hyperrealistic images as a commentary on political decisions, like Banksy, but in a style all her own.
    When the mayor and city council gave their approval to cull the local rabbit population, Zinnia used chalk to create a devastating battle scene on the steps of City Hall. The picture showed bunnies with the faces of the mayor and members of the city council sprawled in a hideous death tableau. Before they could get a city worker in to wash it off, an art historian from the university saw it. He took several pictures that ended up being published in a special feature in
Art Tomorrow
about young radicals. The editors said it was as good as anything Petr Krivonogov, the Soviet battle painter, ever did. Someone else said they saw the influence of John Singer Sargent’s
Gassed
. Dealers started contacting the school, asking if Zinnia had representation and whether she was interested in having a show. Rumor has it she told them all that she still needed time to develop her work. Now
that’s
radical. Most of us would jump at the chance for a show, ready or not.
    Anyway, quite a few other people were sure that Zinnia’s chalk drawing was the best thing that ever happened at city hall. Period. Full stop. But the cull went ahead, and the drawing washed away in the next rain. Chalk art is only so-so at effecting political change.
    When she wasn’t making public protest art, Zinnia was protesting. Last year she started a local Slut Walk, which is ironic, because pretty much everyone dresses sluttier than Zinnia, including Queen Elizabeth II. (I overheard one of the catty girls in the fashion program, also known as the “Clothes Cult,” say that Zinnia should really be organizing the Slob Walk.) Her fashion sense goes beyond can’t-be-bothered art student into blind-gal-sent-into-badly-organized-thrift-store-and-told-to-dress-herself territory. She’s a committed cyclist, never a good sign for fashion.
    At the first annual Slut Walk, she appeared to have taken her cues about provocative clothing from a children’s program made by people who’ve taken too much acid. She had on yellow tights, green felt boots with a stack heel, and some kind of shapeless red-and-brown-feathered tunic. Only a male robin would have found the outfit remotely slutty.
    Neil, in his tightest skinny jeans, his best shiny dress shirt unbuttoned to his sternum, and patent leather ankle boots, looked way more risqué than Zinnia. In fact, e
veryone
did, including the Jehovah’s Witnesses who were handing out
The Watchtower
along our route.
    Anyway, in spite of her tendency to throw herself into political commentary, she wasn’t one to explain her motivations. Which