The enigma of no tits at the Ritz

The Mermaids Return now swims with ambient music of indie film composer Conrad Praetzel. Suggestions for music poured in, but we heard the dolphin chatter and hints of gamelon in the deep blue and knew we were home.

Florida, surprisingly, aims to subvert decadent public displays by mermaids. (Guess they're easier to control than those pesky voting machines.) I have been told by a representative of the state arts commission that there is a no nipple law, that this series of magical mythical creatures are considered (deleteriously) to be nudes. I refuse to add the accoutrement of clamshell bras (ouch) or strategically placed locks (read that however you want), as suggested by an apologetic buyer for the Ritz Carlton, which has a "no breasts" rule. There we stood in the spa, where most, if not all, of the clientele either had breasts or had obviously purchased a pair (ahem, God doesn't start them at the throat) and the buyer said to me in the hushed voice of someone sharing secret wisdom, "You know, most of our clientele is from the midwest."

Just when you think you know about your own country, like thinking your vote counts or that your government representatives actually represent you, there's a moment of enlightenment. "Oh, I grew up in New England, I didn't know that midwesterners don't have breasts!" I blurted out. No wonder the current series is called Enigmatic Paradise.

The Mermaids Return by Beth Surdut

Paintings by Beth Surdut/Music by Conrad Praetzel/compiled by Chalchuhuitl Productions
The Story of The Mermaid's Return
After seven years spent more on land than in the ocean, the mermaid’s scales had disappeared. Not only that, she thought miserably, staring at the feet at the end of her long legs, her tail was gone. The iridescent flash of turquoise and pale pink with emerald highlights had been replaced by human flesh tones.
The transformation was seemingly complete, but whenever she caught the scent of salt water coming off the marshes, her feet tingled and she would put them together and push downward with a quick hard motion, just as if she still had her tail to power her through the water.
As an artist she was adept at transforming stark white silk into jewel-toned paintings where viewers immersed themselves. Now she realized what she should do with that magical process. She picked up her brush, opened her mind and her bottles of dyes, and began to paint.
In the coldest of winters, where she watched her breath freeze and shatter, the mermaid drew upon her memory of her family of ocean creatures. She promised herself she would paint a magical dozen mermaids, one for every month of the year.
Exuberant adolescents were the first to appear, followed by wise seers and princesses. All emerged with watchful eyes in their tails. Most traveled with sea creatures—starfish, shells, seahorses and parrotfish. The first red-haired one came forward boldly in an emerald sea, palms flowing with sensual power. Next came the painter’s strong-willed Spirit Kin with starfish in her luminous hair.
And that is how the portraits began.

Come meet the mermaids who originally took shape on luminous silk before morphing into the finest of limited edition pigment prints on paper.