Drawing from the artist’s extensive archive at the Henry Moore Institute, the biography takes on the monumental task of covering the artist’s life. It shows a lifetime of all-consuming concentration directed towards the more neglected and deviant parts of our lives.

The cover of Moshtari Hilal’s book is not one that goes unnoticed on the bookshelf: “UGLINESS” in big, bold letters. Beneath the title is Hilal’s self-portrait, embellished with drawn-on lines denoting hair—sideburns, eyebrows, a moustache—and flowers growing over her skin. The sharp bone of her nose boldly articulated, she dares both the viewer and her self-reflection, as she splits into two: look me in the face, pick me up off the shelf. It’s the kind of provocation an artist would make, one who knows her audience intimately. I do just that—I open Ugliness, too curious to keep myself from what might be inside.