
Gotta Serve Somebody: On Paul Elie’s The Last Supper
A woman stands on a stage under harsh, punishing red light, wearing a black skirt over tight black pants. Her hair is a thick black mane, swept back from her face, and her eyes are wide and dark and her gaze pierces you like a bullet. She is topless, but her body is covered in blood and her wrathful eyes dare you to sexualize her.
