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They were sometimes goddesses, sometimes nymphs, but just as the fine arts they represented, the nine Muses were whatever the people needed them to be. For no one man can say who they truly were, or what they stood for. The Muses took on a transient form, each moment becoming something that had previously seemed inconceivable. And so it was with art, an allegory so perfect, you’d think it divine.
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A figurative painting of a woman’s body in blush on top of a black backdrop
They were sometimes goddesses, sometimes nymphs, but just as the fine arts they represented, the nine Muses were whatever the people needed them to be. For no one man can say who they truly were, or what they stood for. The Muses took on a transient form, each moment becoming something that had previously seemed inconceivable. And so it was with art, an allegory so perfect, you’d think it divine.
