Truth or Fiction?

Great works of truth
and beauty are often little more than hopeful fictions.

After examining a number of paintings in the Library of Congress, I've made a simple discovery. American artists of the 19th century erroneously believed that the ancient Romans utilized Krazy Glue (more commonly called super glue) or some similar substance for the artistic draping of fabrics, some substance so powerful that there was no need for zippers and snaps and buttons and such.

Here's an example from a mural above the door of a large conference room. A venerable teacher sits on a stone bench with a gathering of youths circled around him, listening intently to his wise and instructive discourse. Said teacher has a simple slip of cloth across his privy parts, which puts him in a precarious position. For even the slightest shifting of a leg is frought with the danger of exhibitionism. Yet he shows no sign of discomfort.

In another painting (in another room), it seems that nothing more than a wisp of wind provides the necessary force to clasp a garment's corner above what otherwise might prove a woman's bared bosom. But her face shows none of the anxiety I'd expect to experience in such an awkward social situation. Instead, she seems secure.

And I wonder how it's taken me so long to notice that the truly great works of truth and beaty are often little more than hopeful fictions.