Cubism

I am always most content at this stage of the project.

Gleaming white, spotless. I stand at the center of a perfectly empty room, a perfectly proportioned cube, two doors on opposing sides. I sigh deeply, soaking in the pure potential before me.

I reminisce of my very first experiment with this medium. Finding suitable candidates was the most challenging aspect. For this series to be successful the chemistry between the first pair would have to be volatile, explosive. Something to take the art world by storm. I began my search with only one requirement in mind- they must be complete strangers. Finally, I found the perfect match, I knew from the side glances and bashful grins they gave one another during our interview.

So I painted them, from head to toe in contrasting colors. Black for him, gold for her. And then I brought them to the cube, waiting patiently for two hours before unlocking their doors.

The result was spectacular. They had ended up fucking, as I knew they would, and their naked bodies painted the story of their lustful moments on the bare walls and floor. It was everything I hoped it would be and more- a masterpiece of human interaction.

I meticulously promoted my exhibit before opening my warehouse to the public. The crowd that assembled that night was overwhelming, and the bidding began. When it was all over, I had more money than I had ever dreamed of. With it, I began constructing more identical cubes, searching for new dynamics to work into the project:

Two shy strangers, nude before one another for an entire day. What story would they paint? I added pieces of furniture to a cube. How would they be utilized? A glass room in the middle of a city square. What would having an audience add to the project? A pressurized cube that was lowered into the sea. Because, why not?

I had the means to explore this medium to the fullest.This runaway train of momentum had brought my work across the globe, it had gained me connections to some of the wealthiest and most influential people. I had achieved my dreams. I had everything that I could ever desire…

Until a few of those powerful people began asking me for private commissions- and offering exorbitant sums- to take my series in a slightly… different direction.

How could I refuse?

…Could I refuse?

There is a reason I am only content inside the blank canvases these days. For a few moments, before the unwitting subjects are led to the cube, I can still imagine that I'm fulfilling my artistic vision…

I place a single blade in the center of the room, exiting swiftly. I try to avoid ever seeing their faces.

See, they've added an additional requirement for their blood-drenched commissions- only one subject is allowed to leave alive. Though neither ever do… They did keep my initial requirement in mind, however:

The subjects are always perfect strangers