Liberties

I tore open my hand when I hit the gravel. A dozen Italian cops were behind me — one drove his boot into my back. Ahead, a pack of journalists crushed into one another to capture the shot. I had locked arms with Nadya Tolokonnikova, the leader of Pussy Riot, to try and block the entrance to the Russian pavilion at the Venice Biennale. Seconds before I tumbled to the ground, I’d pulled her through a gap in the advancing police line. Two minutes before that fifty people in pink balaclavas had converged together while the song “Disobey” blared from nearby speakers. We were protesting Russia’s participation in the most important contemporary art event of the year. The closed press preview had started at ten that morning and only a handful of people had made it inside. Within a week after our protest, Russia designated Pussy Riot a terrorist organization. I shrugged my shoulders. Now the Russian government has me tied to three terrorist organizations instead of two. The thrill isn’t what it once was.