Dormant smiles, eyes closed for the day, hands in sequential pray with each other, stand statuesque on either side of their creation. Congruous and clone like, their lab coats pristine and snow white, their neon light buttons flicker into life zzzzzzt. Name tags are blank unidentified; painted skin with no apparent pump of a pulse; white high heels, with high ideals; white lips, white teeth, white lashes, white claws - all of these display their features accordingly.
Forty five shoes or forty five feet, a ring a ring a rosy, are intrically placed around this globe like sphere of matted clothes. This is their final product; this is what they have done; this is their creation. The hum of industrial white lights flutter into action and it is time to open shop. Unwinding back the time slowly of how it got to this point, unnaturally reversed, these poised ladies open their eyes. In sync they slowly start to peel back the mound. Starting at the feet pair by pair they place them orderly underneath the two empty cool sliver steel racks be hind them. There’s a tower of top hats. They strip it down, they return these too. Shred by shred they pick back the pile, shedding multiple coats, polyprops, tops, jerseys and pants. Stringy scarfs, leggings and panty hose are plucked from the mound like worms are from the soil by hungry birds. Slowly they pick away at it exposing parts of its next layer then come to a halt as they hit its bare tanned mantel. Reaching into their lab coat pockets they bring forth a spray bottle each and engulf the mantel in perfume creating a white fumey haze around it. Now it is time to be measured. They pick up the measuring tape that has been placed in front of them and pull it tightly around the mound; it seems to be going to plan. They now rip back the mantel revealing the outer core, a wire caged sphere. There’s a naked figure inside the cage that cant be fully made out. The excess mantel is folded neatly and tucked away behind the sphere. They now pull back the wire cage; they have reached the core. There she is curled up in a ball, silent, trusting . They then pull out the final item, the support mechanism, a spine from behind her; now they are left with step one: a naked canvas to impose on. They drift backwards to their starting positions, close their eyes, heads down, hands back in pray, waiting for shop to open.
I gave you these images to reverse this present display case. To show you what they have done and how it got to this point. After all it is we who have to be fed, we who feed them, we who are buried, we who are dressed. It is why we are so easily fooled by a uniform; the semiotics of authority are taken without question. This is the ritual that takes place.
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