“A surprise,” she said, like a keeper of secrets.
I set the can down in the studio’s storeroom. “It’s a special material,” she explained. “When you mix it with water, it becomes soft and pliable, and you can use it to take casts of hard surfaces – for example, to make sculptures.”
I was surprised. Until that day, Lily had never spoken about sculpture, nor shown any interest in it.
“I decided to take a sculpture course at theCollege of Art and Design,” she told me, “and to move into a fusion of three-dimensional art – painting and sculpture.”
“And what do you want to do with it?” I wondered. “Our apartment’s too small to turn into a sculpture gallery,” I teased in half-seriousness. Lily replied that she didn’t yet know.
On the way home, she seemed pensive and tired, so I decided not to bother her with questions about this new pursuit she had started. Once the apartment door shut behind us and the hugs and kisses were over, she said she wanted to make a “face cast.”
“Whose face?”
“My own,” she answered calmly.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Not at all – but you’ll have to help me.”
“Support you, or help you?”
“Both.”
I remembered how, on her previous return from Tel-Aviv, she’dtold me about death masks – about their long history in art and their modern applications.
“You mean to make a death mask?” I asked uneasily.
“No – you don’t understand. I want to make a life mask,” she said, before I even realized the mistake I’d made in uttering the worddeath.
“Who does that? You told me about death masks, not life masks.”
“I will. Other people do it too, especially for famous figures.”
“What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing. I just want to do it, and that’s that. I’ve decided.” She pronounced it in her usual tone – one that left no room for further discussion. I gave in. I knew there was no point arguing. By now, I already knew that stubbornness was her middle name.
“So, tell me – are you ready to help me make the mask?” she asked one evening when I came home from work.
“I don’t want to – but I love you. I’ll help…” I surrendered to her request.
The weather that Saturday was beautiful – not too hot. I thought we’d go down to Rafael Nelson’s beach to catch some sun, relax, and meet friends. Lily enjoyed royal treatment at that beach, especially since Nelson had begun attending her classes. Every time he saw her enter the village, he would come out to greet her and invite her – us – to join him at the central platform. Lily always blushed at the nicknamemorati(“my teacher”), which he shouted there loudly and often.
That Saturday, though, she asked that we skip the beach and go straight to the studio in the morning. Once Lily set her sights on something, she never let go.
“Don’t think this will be simple to carry out,” she said as we opened the studio door. “I learned the technique at theCollege of Art and Design.Once the mixture is ready, I’ll breathe through straws while you apply the material over my face.”
“You want me to do what?” I was taken aback.
“You’ll apply the material on my face.”
“And how will you breathe? Are you crazy? The stuff will cover your nose and mouth.”
“I brought wide straws.”
“Straws?!” I was horrified. “You’ll choke! I’m not doing it!”
“I’ll practice first – and we’ll check.”
