The muses look different with every decade, but on the inside, they stay the same. They are the girls whose eyes are like stars with artists in their orbit; whose beauty is eternally captivating, but impossible to capture completely, and so they are drawn and photographed and written about into eternity. They are unknown girls wearing pearl earrings and depressed souls who commit suicide between walls of tin foil and silver paint. They know that their lives begin and end with art, that they are created for and by inspiration. They are gasoline bodies waiting for the right artist to set them ablaze.