Thoughts On: Tracey Emin I Lay Here For You: Jupiter Artland

She is situated in a somewhat unassuming space. 

It is high summer and full-leafed trees blanket her from open, thickly grey sky. 

She lies prone, vulnerable, waiting. 

Rough and heavy, her buttocks pointed towards the heavens, her head burrowed.

She is solid, but arching in such a way that only certain points touch the ground.

Naked: her legs splayed, her breasts crushing into the earth (an ignominious position), she is ready.

We walk around her, dwarfed by her power and vulnerability, identifying body parts and discussing how she was made.

Who is she waiting for, underneath the shade of the beech trees? Who will come here to activate and complete her?

I think of all the lone women during the pandemic, those without an automatic 'bubble' of partner and family, waiting for touch, waiting for the moment that another human will be allowed to activate their humanity.