A few days prior to our bodypainting this young woman had done a shoot for women’s sports equipment, and was in boxing gloves. The photographer had asked her to look tough, to look like she meant business, or angry. No matter what examples they gave her, she just couldn’t find it. Her boyfriend was there for the shoot, as he gives her rides and makes sure she is safe. This day was about a deep painting. She found out that her father was a comanche indian. We researched their manner of dress and paintings. While I painted her I called on her ancestors, the warriors, to connect with her, to embrace her heritage. This was not out loud, but silently in my heart. We had agreed this was what we would do… The tomahawk she is weilding is her father’s. A seriousness settled over her as we worked. There was a intensity I could feel come into our space. Our request for their presence had been answered. Her boyfriend came at the end of the shoot to pick her up. He walked into the room where they were shooting… moments later he came back out and said to me. “I live with her, and I can tell you… I’ve never seen the woman in that room. She couldn’t have had that look just a few days prior. I saw her. She tried.” She had finally connected to what had been missing, her father, her ancestry, and her own ferocity. She had gone from a girl to a powerful woman in an afternoon.