Do you ever notice that the only time nude sculpture is considered 'art' is when it is portrayed in the smooth, cold, alabaster figures like Michelangelo's David or the goddesses that prop up the pillars of a Greek temple? For centuries this was the only way the human form could be depicted - as something more than - and at the same time less than - human, idealized and frozen in perfection. In fact, this was the only way most people ever saw another fully nude person; Victorian author John Ruskin was allegedly so shocked by the site of his wife's pubic hair on their wedding night that, believing she was a freak of nature, had their marriage annulled. He had only ever seen the unrealistically smooth marble statues of antiquity and had no idea what real women looked like. So why is it that only ghostly pale representations of the human form are considered art? Why is it that when you add color and texture, warmth and vitality - and yes, pubic hair - it ceases to be art and becomes something scandalous or titillating? Why couldn't a beautiful woman be admired as a work of art just as she is - in a living, breathing, vibrant human body? We believe female beauty is the ultimate in artistic expression, one of the few arguments for a creator that we grudgingly admit has some merit. And we believe that real, vivid beauty should be appreciated, admired, respected and cherished for the fine art that it is.