While riding around South Beach in the back seat of the still-ownerless Jaguar, Anastasia stakes out the areas where she envisions her brand of art on display. You see this meeting place? Anastasia asks, referring to some bleachers under a hut on the grassy area along Ocean Drive. Look at this, look at this, nobody go there, horrible. You make fountain and all the young people, children, mothers with babies go.... The fountain brings life; it's a beautiful creation. The Versace monument will be black marble and bronze, gold-plated with Medusas. And Medusas [will] throw drinking water for poor people, a gift from Versace.
Then there's the South Shore Branch Library at 225 Washington Ave., in front of which Monster of Art wants to erect a gold-plated sculpture of an open book between two Romanesque pillars. I like gold, says Anastasia of her desire to cover most of her creations in the metal. She even cooks a killer risotto, she says, using champagne and gold leaf. To me gold is like the sun.
It brings people energy, Hansen adds. But I don't take sun, Anastasia retracts. I stay in shadows. I like to see outside, but I always stay in shadows. I love sun, but my skin cannot take sun, because my skin is very white, she explains. Though sometimes we go boating, Hansen interjects.
At B.E.D. some nights later, a friend of Anastasia, who asked that his name not be published, summed up Anastasia's talent in a few sentences. Everybody else comes second when it comes to her, asserts the Peruvian native. She's so artistic it's not even funny. Her mind is from the Fifteenth Century; her body is from the Twenty-first. And, he asks, Have you ever seen Anastasia's big blue eyes?