When the approvals came, no one was happier than she was. She documented an abdominal surgery and used the material she collected there for three-dimensional works, in which her own figure was placed on the operating table, with the color red becoming more and more of a central motif in her work.
And so, about two weeks after the “Sabbath of the Mask,” she again gave up Nelson Beach, and we went out to look for a place in the desert.
“I want to get to an area I was once in, where the ground was barren, hard, wounded, torn, cut across and along,” Lily said, describing the place she had visited during one of the open-air painting days with Marisa Vale and her group. “It’s at the beginning of Solomon River estuary.”
“And what’s my role in this story?” I asked.
“House photographer…”
This time I didn’t reply. It sounded very reasonable. I drove slowly up the streambed. Each time she asked to stop, she got out of the jeep and examined the ground around it.
“Here it is, stop… Don’t ruin the pattern.”
When the engine went silent and Lily jumped from the jeep, my heart skipped a beat.
“This is it,” she called. “Come down carefully and see.”
She moved away from the jeep, occasionally bending to examine the soil. When she reached an area where the sand looked more “marine” or “golden,” she stopped and called me to come closer. She wanted me to feel the soil, the colors, and the stark contrast between the soft golden sand – which seemed to recall that the area had once been covered by the sea – and the cracked, parched brown clods that looked as if they were waiting for the sea to return.
“Come, feel the ground and the contrasts it holds. This is exactly the place I was looking for. After we feel it, we’ll start working.”
Lily began to play with the sand, letting it slip through her fingers and covering her bare feet. I watched her – the little girl playing in the ‘sea sand’ in the middle of the desert. A kind of masterpiece. In my opinion, she hadn’t changed at all in the past three years. She was so beautiful. The light only added depth to her fair colors. I approached her and slowly caressed her face. I ran my finger along her chin, then to her lower lip, toward her upper lip and her nose. She seemed to try to swallow my finger. I didn’t resist. I even helped her. Suddenly I found myself beneath her. I hadn’t imagined her physical strength. The eruption of love that burst from her ebbed slowly, many minutes later, until she calmed down.
“You wanted to go to the sea, didn’t you?” she asked while brushing golden sand from her face.
“So I brought you to a sea of sand, sand of the sea,” she said, scooping a handful of sand and tossing it onto my bare chest.
When we stood up, still embracing, more and more golden grains of sand fell from us. The contrast between the small piles of yellow sand on the dry, brown ground was clear. I knew the first breeze would return the scene to what it had been.
“I really want us to come back here before sunset,” she said suddenly, and then added,
“I have an idea, and I want to carry it out.”
“Why not now? We’re already here!”
“I want to bring a few more props,” she explained.
“Yes, ma’am, whatever you say!” I saluted. Lily laughed.
A few hours later, Lily stood beside me, dressed in a tight black shirt and faded jeans. By the door were some of the objects she wanted to take back to the stream, and the rest we collected from the studio – including her life mask. I brought the camera. The sun was still high, and it was hot.
We arrived at the same spot as the previous morning, and saw that our footprints were still there. Lily changed clothes, taking off her jeans and black shirt while putting on a white bodysuit. I didn’t know when she had bought it or what she was about to do, but it was clear she had prepared carefully for this moment.
When she finished dressing, she asked me to find two rocks to support a wooden shelf. On the shelf, she placed the yellow bowl and the life mask sculpture, facing away. She marked three small crosses on the ground. “These are camera positions,” she explained, “Please stand on one of them.”
She stepped back, knelt, and began covering her face with white makeup. “Photograph me from different angles,” she asked, after covering her face partially. I obeyed in silence.
“Move to this spot,” she ordered. Her face now fully white, she set aside the makeup tools.
Through the lens, I looked at her: all white, with only her bright eyes shining against the background.
“Now move there,” she pointed to the golden sand, “and take the mask there.”
Lily walked toward the sandy patch. I followed with the mask in my hands. Suddenly, she sat down.
“Put the mask here beside me,” she said. I did as she asked.She began covering her lower body with the golden sand. When her thighs were covered, she lay down and continued piling sand over her stomach and chest.
“Start photographing,” she requested, as she continued to bury herself.
