PEARL September 1913
“Goodness gracious, Pearl. Are you really going to exhibit that?”
Peter"s eyes looked as if I might need to push them back into his head. They protruded from his head almost as far as the breasts of the female nude painting I had just finished. My breasts, my body, rendered as if looked at in a cracked mirror, curves within jagged, sharp-edged tiles of reflection.
I had never painted a nude before, but after Peter and I attended The International Exhibition of Modern Art, one some called the Armory Show as it was held in makeshift galleries in the 69th Regiment Armory on Lexington Avenue, last February, I knew I at least had to attempt one. In the course of doing it, I found myself expanding, not only as an artist but as a person. There is so much power in doing wha
