Living Sculpture

WARNING: Don't try this at home. Prolonged immobilization can lead to all sorts of nasty health problems, including deep vein thrombosis ("economy class syndrome") which often causes permanent injury or even death.

-------

I am a "famous" artist. Not Hollywood-level famous, but famous by my own standards: I am occasionally recognized on the street. My specialty is sculptures, often in plastic, and often in bright colors. It is not the kind of art that usually leads to public recognition, but I was very lucky to cause a major scandal two years ago in Berlin.

At a major art exhibition, I participated with an installation of colorful plastic animals engaged in sexual activities. Three rams (green, shocking pink and red) were having sex with a dark blue dog, while four yellow rabbits and a cat were raping a dark violet cow. In the background, a leopard, two penguins and a dolphin were having an orgy. Not really an installation that would cause any upheaval, if I hadn't given it the title "Multiculturalism". I honestly had no political motivation behind it, and had not thought much about the title. But after two calm days, an angry letter in a German newspaper ignited the gunpowder. The next day the left wing accused me of playing into the hands of the neo-nazis, the right wing claimed that I was attacking the moral foundations of western society; and everybody else were sure I was mocking their favorite standpoint. People started picketing outside the museum, and soon they began fighting each other and the police. I was making front page news.

The very next day the director of the museum had my installation removed for reasons of security. Even better, several politicians demanded its removal, so the press could present it as if the museum had bowed to political demands. For an artist, nothing is better than censorship, my fame was assured, and sales picked up. Eventually, I was able to lease the workshop I am using now.

At the ground floor, I have a small exhibition hall, open to the public. Behind is the workshop proper, separated by the exhibition by a curtain in the doorway. Upstairs, a small apartment with a bedroom and a kitchen. I was in the exhibition hall arranging a small sculpture when she walked in.

I did not immediately recognize her, although when she told me her name I knew she was far better known than me. Let us call her Susan, for obvious reasons I cannot tell her real name. Susan is one of our most successful businessmen. For the last five years she had been the director of one of this country's largest corporations, and has expanded its field of operations to most of Western Europe. She was a good-looking woman, although not a striking beauty, in her late thirties, around 160 cm, with medium-length blonde hair and a body shaped by regular exercise. But what I noticed most was her presence, she was self-confident without being intimidating.

She asked if I had time for a chat, and I invited her into my workshop. I immediately saw the possibility of a lucrative bread-and-butter project. You may think that as an artist it would be below me to prostitute myself with art projects where the customer decides what should be done, but the truth is that the life of an artist is 90 percent bread-and-butter projects, which in turn finance the 10 percent projects of real artistic value. And with a potential customer in the financial super league, I saw the possibility of a great bread-and-butter project. As so many before me, I grossly underestimated Susan!

Susan explained how their corporate headquarter was placed in an old manor house surrounded with a garden. Slowly, she was populating this garden with sculptures, some from famous artists, some from unknown. I did not dare to ask which category she would place me in.

"And now I would like a very special statue in our garden," she explained. "It should be one of your colorful plastic statues, with me as the model, although that should not be public knowledge."

"OK," I answered, perhaps a bit disappointed by her obvious narcissism. "What kind of statue did you have in mind?"

"It should be a nude. It should be life-size. And it should be smurf-blue," she explained with conviction.

"Smurf-blue? Okay... Why exactly smurf-blue?"

"Well, to me it is the most reasonable choice. It cannot be any natural skin color, that would make the statue look indecent. It cannot be white, for then it would look like cheap fake marble. It cannot be black, since that could be seen as a political statement about race. So it has to be a bright, unnatural color. Giving it an unnatural color will also make it less likely that I am recognized, after all putting up nude statues of yourself is kind of bad taste." She smiled at me. "And I happened to like smurfs as a kid, they still have a place in my heart."

It almost made sense. "Smurf-blue it is, then. How do you want to look?"

I found some paper and a crayon in a drawer, and prepared to sketch the statue.

"I want the statue to be an exact replica of me. Not some kind of hero-portrait or supermodel. It should be exactly as I look like in reality, including all the small flaws of my body, the slight sagging of my breasts, the ugly wart on my lower back, everything."

"OK, that is not a problem. It actually makes it easier, I can do a 3D scan of your body. But are you sure this is how you want it? Most of us have a rather clear picture of how we look like, but it does not always correspond completely with reality. You may not think it really looks like you." I guess I could have said this in a more tactful way, I realized how badly it could be misunderstood as soon as I had said it.

"I will run the risk of being disappointed by my own looks." She laughed at my slight embarrassment. "So this 3D scanning, how do we do it? I assume it requires some equipment, so perhaps you can arrange an appointment with the guys doing the scan."

"Actually, I can do it myself. I have a hand-held scanner, it takes maybe twenty minutes to scan your entire body a number of times, and another five minutes for the computer to reconstruct a realistic 3D model. So in principle I can do it now, or we can set up an appointment for later."

"Now would be fine. Should I just strip down?"

"Sure". I drew the curtain to the empty exhibition hall, and looked away while she disrobed. Then I found my scanner, and turned to look at her. Wow, she looked good. We started by trying a few poses that would look good on a statue, before settling on one with one arm raised into the air, and another down along the side. It did not look like a particularly natural stance, but is sure made her look good. Then I began scanning, holding the bow-like scanner in the middle, and moving it slowly up and down her body, while the red laser played over her curves. She stood completely still, although her eyebrows moved in surprise when I moved the scanner between her legs to scan her crotch from below.

"Sorry, but I need a complete scan of the entire body, so the shell the computer creates does not have any holes. I can repair minor defects, but it is a lot easier to do a proper scan to begin with."

"A proper improper scan, you mean," she teased.

"I am done now. Let's download it to the computer and see if it is OK. But you stood very still, I would be surprised if there are any problems."

"Otherwise I'll be ready for a rescan."

We went to the computer and I connected the scanner. The 3D reconstruction software began working. Susan waited patiently, and stark naked. I offered her a robe, but she declined.

"What's the point? You have already seen me naked."

So we waited in silence. A few minutes later a wireframe figure of Susan appeared on the screen. A few clicks, and it became a solid figure. A few clicks more, and it was blue. Not smurf-blue, but close enough. I began turning it slowly, looking for scanning flaws.

"This looks great," Susan interjected. "Can you zoom in on the back, I want to see if the scanner caught the wart."

I zoomed in, and soon found a tiny bump. "That small? Does the scanner have problems registering small features?" she asked.

I looked at her back. "It really is a tiny wart, I think it got scanned perfectly. Actually, this looks good, I can use these scans and get it produced."

"Good. What about the practical matters. What will this cost, and when can you deliver." This would have been the latest natural time to get dressed, but she still remained naked. I made a price estimate. It was not cheap, since I had to get the statue 3D printed, and few places could print such large objects. Knowing her economic situation, I may have overestimated some of the expenses a bit, but she agreed to my price and we settled a date where she would come and look at the result.

Finally, she dressed and left. I wondered why she had stayed naked that long. Had I missed an opportunity? Having sex with the customers is usually a pretty bad idea, and if her nakedness was an invitation... Well, she was a powerful business leader, used to getting things her way. If she had wanted sex, she would have made it clear.

----------

A month later, the life-size statue of Susan was in my workshop. I had it mounted on a low socket, and gave it the title "Corporate Smurf". Susan approved it, and we had it placed in the garden outside her headquarters.

Then a couple of months passed. I occasionally saw her mentioned in the press, but it was mostly boring business news that doesn't interest me. Nevertheless, I would usually at least skim newspaper articles about her. The only thing at all remarkable was the claim by a tabloid newspaper that she was "resigning". That turned out to be a major overstatement, she was reorganizing the board of directors, delegating many aspects of day-to-day business to subordinates. She stated that she needed to do that to be able to relax in the weekends, and perhaps take a one-week vacation now and then. According to the business analysts, she had offloaded the boring day-to-day administration while keeping almost all the power and influence in her own hands. Pretty smart, in my opinion.

Then one day she walked in the front door. Once again, she arrived at a dead time, with nobody else in the exhibition hall. I took her to the workshop, and drew the curtain.

"Are you satisfied with your new sculpture?"

"I most certainly am," she answered.

"And have you been recognized."

"I have. It took almost two month, but now they all know it is me. Although no-one has dared mentioning it to me. None at all." It clearly amused her.

"Then how do you know?" I was genuinely curious.

"You probably didn't realize it, but the placement was far from random. When I sit at my office, I can see the statue from my desk. For the first six weeks or so, it just stood there. Occasionally some visitor walking in the garden, or an employee taking a break, would stop by it and look at it. Then one day that changed. Suddenly, it got a lot more attention. Many more came to look at it. And often they would be groping the statue. Initially they would be careful and discrete, but recently I have noticed groups of two or three male employees blatantly groping my statue."

"Oh. I had not seen that coming. I assume it bothers you?"

"No, not at all. Actually, I enjoy it, although I must admit that I sometimes feel a bit jealous." She looked a bit embarrassed, and I honestly did not know what to answer. Fortunately, she just continued.

"That actually caused me to think about your statues. I assume that you can easily modify the scan a bit, if there were a reason for doing so."

I confirmed that.

"Could you for example add half a centimeter everywhere? I realize that would change the proportions slightly, and make the statue look a bit fat."

"Not fat, more like sturdy. Yes, I could do it, although it would look slightly wrong. Why would you want that."

She clearly hesitated before continuing. "I would like you to make a new statue of me. But add half a centimeter, make the outer shell three millimeters thick, and then put a few millimeters of something soft on the inside. For example neoprene. Then I would like to be put naked inside the statue, and exhibited somewhere with a lot of people. Put dark glass where the eyes are, then I can see out, but no-one can see that I am inside."

"Well... erm.... I think I can do that, if you really want to. There is the big summer exhibition in the Museum of Contemporary Art this summer, we could exhibit you for a few hours there, if you really want to go through with this."

"I do. And I was not thinking about a few hours. I would like to be in the statue for at least two full days."

"That is not going to be pleasant! You really don't want to do this..."

She interrupted me, "I have thought about it for more than a month. I know it is going to be unpleasant, but I want to do it. I need to do it!"

"OK, but it will cause some practical problem of a more, say, biological nature."

"If I empty my bowels, I can certainly hold it for 48 hours. A can't hold the pee, but we can put a catheter in me, and somehow hide a thin pipe in the casing. I will also need a supply of water, but that can also be a hidden pipe."

I contemplated the idea. This was utterly insane, but it somehow appealed to me. "Hiding those pipes is going to be difficult. I have a different idea..."

I explained my idea, she liked it. Then she stripped, and we agreed on a more natural and pleasant pose this time. I scanned her, and we looked at the scan. This time, discussing the practical matters took more than an hour. She again remained naked the whole time, but never flirted or made a pass at me. One weird, stinking rich, and quite beautiful lady!

----------

A month later, the parts were ready, and we met at my workshop. This time I had a sign on the door saying "closed". I showed her the parts of the statue, this time in bright green. The largest part was for her entire back side, it was joined with a large floor plate so she would not fall over. The front part consisted of a number of smaller plates that would be mounted one at a time. Everything was ready, except for a small detail. The exact placement of her pee-hole could not be seen on the scans, and the hole needed to be placed with millimeter precision, otherwise it would become two very unpleasant days.

She stripped, and stepped into the back side. I put the font part of the two legs in place. Now she was trapped. Next, I carefully placed the main front plate in position, it covered her front side from slightly below the navel up to the neck, and the front of both arms. Now only her crotch and her face was uncovered.

"How does it feel?" I asked.

"Strange. I feel quite exposed, but it is not unpleasant."

"You are quite exposed!" I knelt before her, with my face in front of her cunt. "I am going to insert the catheter now."

I opened a bag with a sterile catheter, and spread her labia with my fingers. I located the pee-hole and slowly inserted the catheter. A bit of pee ran into the bag attached to it.

"It is in. I just need to get my caliper." I got up and walked to my toolbox. I really hoped she could not see my boner, it was unprofessional, but there was no way I could finger her pussy without getting an erection. I would be an awful doctor.

Back with the caliper, I knelt again, and carefully measured the distance from the edge of the plate to the catheter. Then I went to the workbench.

"This is the critical part. The hole has to be in exactly the right place."

"Take your time. I am not running away."

I drilled the hole, and returned with a pair of scissors. I cut the catheter some ten centimeters from her body, and inserted the end into the plate. Then I mounted the plate carefully, and placed a bucket under the catheter tube.

"Is it unpleasant?"

"No, I am fine. Except that I cannot move. But at least my pussy is not exposed any more. Will you mount the face plate?"

"Yes." I showed her the inside of the plate. A tube entered the mouth, and the were two small switches that would go inside her mouth.

"You operate the switches with your tongue. The left one gives you a deciliter of water, the right a deciliter of hospital-grade nutritional fluid. It will not win any gastronomic prices, but at least it is not vile. This way you can make it through the two days. I will now mount the face plate, and leave you in there for two hours, to test the system. Don't forget to test that you can both drink and eat."

"OK." She sounded a bit nervous. I mounted the face plate.

"Try shouting."

I head a muffled shouting. It was impossible to make out what she said, but in an emergency, she could get help.

Two hours later, I removed all the plates, she got dressed, and left, still keen on going through with this.

-------

She arrived early in the morning, so we had time to get ready before the exhibition opened at noon. She undressed as soon as she had entered the workshop. I mounted the catheter first, and then assembled the statue, with her inside. That went reasonably fast, so there was a half-hour wait before the students arrived. I had hired four art students, and paid them handsomely for their time and for their silence. I had briefed them about almost everything in the project, except Susan's identity, of course. One of us would always be present, for Susan's safety.

Once the students were there, I pinched off the catheter tube and we carefully carried Susan into the waiting truck, and placed her face-up in the padding I had procured. We secured the statue with strong straps. I am sure we broke some law transporting her like that, but Art is a higher cause. The slow drive to the museum went without trouble.

At the museum, we quickly carried the statue to its intended place, and began installing the "plumbing". The catheter tube was inserted into a black steel pipe that would wind once around her right leg before going through a rubber stopper into a five-liter laboratory flask. The flask was labeled OUTPUT with big, black letters.

A black box with two large jars, water and nutritional fluid, was mounted above her. The two rubber pipes were hidden inside another black steel tube, leading to her mouth. The black box was labeled INPUT with large, white letters.

Then I placed a sign next to the statue. I had not shown it to Susan, but I was pretty sure she would like its effect. It said "TACTILE SCULPTURE. You are welcome to grope the statue."

At noon, people began showing up. The opening of the Summer Exhibition at Museum of Contemporary Art was a reasonable informal affair. There would be people going round with trays of canapés, and perhaps one or two speeches. But most people were just walking around, looking at the installations, the sculptures and the paintings. My work did not get more attention than most other pieces, but neither did it get less. And quite a large number followed the suggestion to touch the statue, often in intimate places.

As the day went on, a visible amount of yellow liquid accumulated in the "output" flask. I doubt anybody but me really noticed the level rising, but I did hear a father explain to his son that no, statues don't pee, it is just yellow water. They agreed it was quite gross, nevertheless.

Eventually, the exhibition closed for the night. We took turns watching over Susan during the night, not that we expected any problems or sudden panic attacks from her side, but just to be safe. After a long boring night, the museum opened again. The second day went much as the first. I had selected a matte surface finish for the statue that was not very wear resistant, and already before lunch her breasts, the crotch and to a lesser degree her knees had been polished by the many hands touching her. This only seemed to embolden the audience, a larger fraction now groped her, and only the most timid chose the knees.