At the Alcázar in Madrid: "The Other"

“To see something as art requires something the eye cannot describe—an atmosphere of artistic theory, a knowledge of the history of art: an artworld.”

— Arthur C. Danto, “The Artworld” (1964)

At the Alcázar In Madrid

The Infanta Dulcimargarita Teresa, the Spanish princess, sits before the mirror and carefully scrutinizes her lovely, angelic face. Then she proceeds to paint it.

First, she aptly applies the mascara.

 Afterward, she applies vivid purplish lipstick to her delicate lips, followed by foundation, rouge upon her cheeks, eyeliner, and long, thick eyelashes.

Then she takes up a pair of scissors and cuts her long, beautiful blond hair.

Presently, her mother, Queen Mariana of Austria, enters the princely boudoir, accompanied by King Philip IV; doña María Agustina Sarmiento de Sotomayor, maid of honor; Isabel de Velasco, lady-in-waiting; Mari Bárbola, the German dwarf and court jester; and, finally, don Diego Velázquez, the court painter.

They stop.

In horror, the entire court stares at the child seated before the mirror and cries out in unison:

“¡Pardiez! Who is that sitting at the princess’s vanity? Whatever became of doña Margarita Teresa?”

“It’s me,” the child replies. “The Infanta.”

“But who made you do this?” Her Majesty, the mother, exclaims, looking intently at such a transfiguration.

At this, the little princess remains perfectly calm.

She raises one hand and points toward the mirror.

“The Other,” she says.

Then, after a moment:

“She made me do it.”