Artemis is "The Maiden", embodying delusional youth. She is engulfed in a gown made up with 500m of fishing line, hooks still attached; an unwieldy mass of tangles and thin, insubstantial silk.
Miss Behavin' has been lured into a trap. She swallowed the lies fed to her about thinness, beauty and the feminine ideal.
She cakes on the eye-liner, stuffs her feet into killer heels and nurses a perpetual cycle of anorexia, feeding a false sense of seductive power, believing that this is how she will finally win love and acceptance.
Ironically, by starving herself to look like the ideal “woman”, she has choked off the essence of femininity. She is hollow inside, her belly ceiled in plastic, triumphant in her self-imposed amenorrhea, revelling in her hard-won boyish glamour. The myth of binary gender confounds her. She is suspended in a state of not-quite-living-and not-quite-dead, like anhydrobiotic royalty, awaiting her instant life.
She is blinded by her own mask, unaware that she has actually become ensnared by a consumerist world that churns out plastic goddesses like novelty trinkets.