Take a Hammer and Chisel to Rupnik’s Mosaics

When I was seven, my parents brought home a painting and hung it above the fireplace. They summoned my brother and me into the living room, and we looked at the painting up close. In front of us was a collection of squares in muted and faint purples, pinks, blues, and grays. My parents then had us view the painting from a distance, dimming the lights. A man appeared on the canvas.

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