(Please click on the image above to get the full picture)
Many years ago, we bought a marvelous iron statue from an sculptor in Ohio. It was my birthday present. I named her Jill. Until I turned her to the side and re-named him Jack.
She/he is androgynous. It all depends on your perspective and the angle of your eye.
Several years ago, she/he was poised in our front yard. She/he is top heavy and vulnerable to tipping. So we sunk her/him in the ground with concrete.
After she/he had been there for a bit, we received a complaint from the community’s Architectural Review Committee, stating that our statue was suggestive of nudity.
Granted, she/he was indeed unclothed. She/he was, in fact, the very definition of nudity. Which made her/him just that much more interesting. And worthy of conversation.
We, including Jill/Jack, were very offended by the citation but we were obliged to comply with the covenants of the community. Thus we decided to clothe her/him.
And that’s where the problems started.
How does one costume/dress an androgynous statue?
Is it Santa Claus or Mrs. Claus?
St. Patrick or St. Patricia?
Mama Bear or Papa Bear?
Uncle Sam or Betsy Ross?
Romeo or Juliet?
Adam or Eve? Oh, that’s right, those two weren’t clothed/dressed either. Except for a wee-tiny fig leaf. Which apparently never really upset anyone’s apple cart.
So I guess that brings us back to square one and Jill/Jack can just be her/himself again.