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Why is this happening? Because, it seems, we no longer trust the facts. The president tells us we cannot trust the mainstream media, while that same media says his supporters peddle fake news. For the first time there are facts and (in Kellyanne Conway’s notorious phrase) ‘alternative facts’. As facts become fluid they become contestable; the truth becomes (once again) something you assert, not something you prove. It used to be a peculiar characteristic of totalitarian regimes that they made the facts fit their purposes; now it seems this can happen in a functioning democracy. As the court pointed out in its judgement on February 9th, the government had repeatedly asserted that national security was at stake and that this was why its order should not be stayed, though it had produced no evidence to support this assertion. The courts appear to be trying to preserve standards of reliability and evidence that are being undermined in the digital age. Will they succeed? Only time will tell.

He sat on my couch, drinking his water from a mason jar.  I felt ill, and dizzy.  He smiled at me. You don’t believe me. I don’t know what to believe, I told him. Listen he said. You’re the artist. I’m not, I said. I read it, he said. I know about Fluent, I know about Dagmar. I know about the writing on the walls and the weird band and the dragon and the heron boiling in a cauldron. I felt sweat dripping down my round stomach.  This was not possible. Are you a ghost, I asked him. Things had been so weird at my house lately. A few days ago I had found the door wide open in the morning, which I’m always so careful to lock. Nothing taken. Nothing moved. So, he said, thanks for this. It’s good to meet you.  He stood up.  He was so tall.  I felt he had to stoop a little in the door frame. Almost seven feet tall, maybe. I’ll give you a few days to get used to it, he said.  And then I’ll be back.  A week passed.  I spoke with my friends, my therapist, my dream interpreter, two psychics.  No one thought he could possibly be real. The therapist wondered if I was under a lot of stress. I certainly was.

Pieces from Diego's collection would also appear in many of her paintings or serve as models or inspiration for a painting. Her 1932 painting "My Birth" in which she paints " …how I imagined I was born ", a statue of the Aztec Goddess Tlazolteolt may have been the model. In "My Nurse and I" from 1937, the "Nurse" is wearing a Teotihuacán mask and the "Madonna and Child" pose may have been modeled after a pre-Columbian statue. Pre-Columbian artifacts can be found in other paintings as well: "The Four Inhabitants of Mexico City" (1938), "Girl with Death Mask" (1938), and "Self-Portrait with Small Monkey" (1945).

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