by Victoria Nordlund Joshua J. Cotten After Dorothea Tanning Accept it: We all let someone else christen us. I am here. I have arrived. Don’t be fooled —  I am not the coiffed bad-ass staring you down with one hand on a knob of a door that leads to another & another & another —  Promising all the answers if you follow. I admit, the resemblance is uncanny but trust me, I would never be caught dead half-dressed in a purple brocade jacket: A Jacobian garbed perky-breasted versio