"In 1985, a man pulled out a knife in the State Hermitage Museum in St Petersburg and thrust it in Danaë's lower belly. He then threw a litre of sulphuric acid over the painting" "Art attack: defaced artworks from Rothko to Leonardo - in pictures," The Guardian, 2012, photo by A. Demianchuk
Not cold coin, wicking up the heat of her body, but light, golden and quickening, falling on her belly, her breasts, her hips and thighs. And oh, that aperture through which Zeus’s light does pass: a shape echoed by her soft lips, a gaze so open towards divine desire outside the frame. Even after that madman’s knife and acid bath, Zeus’s light pours like honey over Danaë; even after her dozen years of healing, she’s changed but not diminished, and welcomes the god as if it was the very first day his light surprised her.