The second heist required a little more choreography. My mother went to take her bath, and I knew I had a narrow window with perfect acoustics — the kind where you can hear the water running, the soap dropping, everything. That was my cue. I slid into her room, dragged a chair across the floor as quietly as I could, and climbed up to the wall over her bed.

This painting was hung high, like she wanted it out of reach — but that only made the challenge sweeter. I lifted it off the hook, dropped down like a thief in a movie, and disappeared before the bathwater even hit rinse cycle. She never noticed. Strategic placement works both ways. This one is another one of her goddess pieces — at least, that’s what I’ve always believed. A striking, commanding image. Strong posture, rich colors, that quiet spiritual intensity she paints without effort. There’s something about the face, the stance… the whole thing feels alive. I remember thinking, this one watches back. It deserved to be part of the archive.