Hardly Lee Miller in Hitler's tub but funny what pops into your head at the most spontaneous moments. Here I am in St Joseph, Michigan, a turn-of-the-century town on a bluff along Lake Michigan, which plays host to street art on every corner, every summer, and this year's theme is rubber ducks and bathtubs.
I later showed a friend of mine the iconic photo of Miller sitting in the Fuhrer's tiled tub -- she had never seen it -- and she said 'why?' in that way you do when you are totally unimpressed.
When you ask why? you kill the moment, the mood, the expression. When you ask why? right when you are on the cusp of picking up a paintbrush or singing or dancing or creating or expressing yourself, then it is censorship of the worst kind: Self-censorship.
I later showed a friend of mine the iconic photo of Miller sitting in the Fuhrer's tiled tub -- she had never seen it -- and she said 'why?' in that way you do when you are totally unimpressed.
When you ask why? you kill the moment, the mood, the expression. When you ask why? right when you are on the cusp of picking up a paintbrush or singing or dancing or creating or expressing yourself, then it is censorship of the worst kind: Self-censorship.
When you actually start answering your own question of why? then you've become your own personal dictator. You don't need a Hitler for that. You, yourself, can spend a lifetime trying to answer why? Why you're doing this or that. Why you like that person. Why you love this one. Why you're moving the paintbrush like that. Why? Why? Why? The more you ask this question, the more you are never satisfied. You never need to know why you do anything in life, even why you're hopping into a tub or onto the back of a giant duck.
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