Madame X was pretty much outlaw art when she appeared.
In the end, the painter thought it his best work ever. I can simply say that she literally took my breath away when I finally got to see her, and I stayed so long, in a sort of beauty induced shock (remembering to breathe, when I got dizzy), that the guards started eyeing me thoughtfully or curiously or warily or whatever. Who knows. All I know is her skin is pale, palest, lilac and you really can see where the strap was painted at first. If there be goddesses, she is one.
So, outlaw art. Last night, I read a bit of Banksy's "Wall and Piece." In it, he says:
The people who truly deface our neighbourhoods are the companies that scrawl giant slogans across buildings and buses trying to make us feel inadequate unless we buy their stuff. They expect to be able to shout their message in your face from every available surface but you're never allowed to answer back. Well, they started the fight and the wall is the weapon of choice to hit them back.
It doesn't matter whether you completely agree with Banksy on this, or disagree completely.
What is critical in his statement is that one can hear the voice of everyman when he says "you're never allowed to answer back."
Outlaw art. Brilliant artists seem to live at the edge--or beyond--the norms of society. Beyond the pale. Not big news there.
But think about this, for maybe just a moment.
When was the last time you thought something was beyond reason, pushing the limits, beautiful, and perhaps sane, but it simply wouldn't fit into your frame of "this is okay in my life?"
Was that thing so dizzying or shock-inducing or truthful that it was, really, showing us the beauty of the future?
The beauty that could exist now, if we let it?