Andrew and Helga
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I will state again that artistic muses can be found anywhere. On this blog I’ve profiled muses who were “discovered” in varying settings and with differing relationships to the artists themselves. Many of the great works of art have featured subjects who were sometimes fellow artists, prostitutes, dancers, aristocrats, wives and lovers (or in some cases the lovers of other artists), milliners, peasants, small-town girls, dressmakers, and even professional artist’s models :yay!: It’s a mistake to define who a muse should be. That’s up to the artist to decide. There’s only one common denominator; the feelings dictate that the creative impulse must be carried out. An artist is compelled to “examine” a subject, develop intimacy with a subject, put that subject on canvas or, in the case of Andrew Wyeth and Helga Testorf, many canvases.
So who is Helga Testorf? She is a Prussian-born immigrant who was a caregiver to one of Wyeth’s neighbors near his home in rural Chadd’s Ford, Pennsylvania. She was 32 years old when Wyeth first met her in the early 1970s, and something about the blond beauty stirred the artist in a very profound way. They were merely acquaintances for a while until finally Wyeth asked her to pose. Helga had never posed before but was willing. From the years 1971-1985, Wyeth produced over 240 works of Helga. Although known as a master in egg tempera, Wyeth used various mediums, and posed Helga in various settings; indoors and outdoors, nude and clothed.
The work sessions with Helga were carried out in secret, unbeknownst even to Wyeth’s own wife and Helga’s husband. The pairing proved to be a fertile artistic relationship, and Wyeth’s stunning output rocked the art world when it was finally revealed in the mid 1980s, even making the cover of Time magazine.
Wyeth’s portrait of Helga, Braids:
In his represenational style, employing a controlled technique and subtle palette, Wyeth depicts Helga often in a state of isolation. How perfectly that mirrors the private, behind-closed-doors nature of their work sessions, which were literally hidden from the outside world.
A nude Helga in Overflow:
Helga has said that this piece, titled Letting Her Hair Down, is her personal favorite of the series:
The Helga works are arguably the most famous series of a single sitter in all of art. While I was gathering information for this post, I came across some pretty rude and cynical articles, written of course by uppity, judgmental, arrogant “art critic” types, who get off on ridicule and salacious speculation. I can’t stand those people, mostly because none of them are artists themselves and certainly have never been muses to anyone (which is why I try, whenever possible, to eliminate their petty “critiques” from this blog). For all their so-called “knowledge”, they seem so ignorant about the nature of creative inspiration and the relationship that evolves between an artist and his model. If only they understood the thrilling experience of an imagination stimulated, a soul nourished, emotions kindled, and a deep bond developing between two people. Sometimes I think they just don’t get it. But I’ve been there. I know how it feels.
Andrew Wyeth and Helga Testorf remain close friends to this day. Their relationship, and the art created as a result, has endured over many, many years, so I’d say they have the last word. The Helga series is artist/muse embodied to perfection. And every artist should be so lucky to find his Helga.
Bird Lives . . .
Today is Charlie Parker’s birthday. The jazz legend would have been 88 years old. For my father, my brother, and jazz lovers everywhere, here is the pioneer himself. Play on, Bird!
Visions of Nantucket
Hello, helloooooo!! Hi everyone! I have returned – happy, suntanned, with batteries recharged and spirit renewed 
For six magnificent days, I was greeted in the mornings by vociferous seagulls calling out into the sweet Nantucket air, cormorants flying over the harbor, and boats gently knocking into basins. Carefree dogs cavorted in the streets, hydrangea bushes poured over garden fences, and grey clapboard houses with white trim (the typical Nantucket dwelling) dotted the landscape and hugged the shorelines. In other words, Nantucket Island is a wonderful place! I don’t know why so many people hold the perception that in order to find an island paradise one must travel toward the equator. Not true! One lies just 30 miles off the coast of Cape Cod. In fact, it was hard to leave Nantucket. Two or three more days would have been nice, but I will certainly cherish the days I had.
I did miss you all, my blogosphere friends. And as promised, I took lots of pictures which I will post here, my little photo album I hope you all enjoy. I just shot what inspired me, made me smile, and tried to capture images that symbolized my personal experience on Nantucket and reflect how I saw things. So here’s a little travelogue of my summer getaway. For any photo that tickles your fancy, I recommend clicking on the image for sharper detail.
The umbrellas and sunbathers of Jetties Beach:
If you were wondering if I’m the type of person for whom a picture of a seagull passes as a vacation shot, the answer is hell yes! Here’s my little pal:
And here’s one of his “girlfriends”:
By far one of the most popular forms of recreation on Nantucket is bicycling, and for an avid bicyclist like me it doesn’t get any better. Great bike paths winding around the whole island! I took a fabulous ride to Madaket, on the western end of the island. The weather was simply glorious.
The road to Madaket:
Though I was pedaling along very fast at one point, I couldn’t resist these interesting tree formations. I had to stop and take a picture:
Some fellow bicyclists on the road to Madaket:
Nantucket has beautiful vegetation. Cranberry bushes and wildflowers. But I was amazed at how many evergreen trees there were on the island. I loved these pinecones:
At Surfside Beach, one scoop with my hand as a wave ebbed away produced this pretty collection of rocks:
Does Nantucket have an art community? You bet it does. And like a good artist’s model, I attended an art opening at the Cromartie Gallery. Very different from the Chelsea/SoHo art scene here in New York, but charming and enjoyable all the same. Plus good wine!
This is the essence of Nantucket right here: a boat, a bicycle, and lush greenery:
The highlight of my trip was, without question, Sconset Beach. It’s been a long time since I felt so relaxed, so at peace, and so in tune with nature, than I felt lying on that smooth sand, under the clear, summer New England sky. Best day on Nantucket.
The grassy dunes of Sconset Beach:
An adorable little boy was digging a hole in the sand. When the ocean washed away his laborious work, he abandoned it. Poor kid. So I snapped a picture because I liked the blue shovel:
A memorable experience took place at Sconset Beach that day. A family of seals charmed us with their presence! Out in the water – but not very far out – they popped their slicked heads up above the water, took a look around at all of us human beachgoers, then made elegant dips back underneath. They went back and forth looking for fish, and just frolicking in the undulating waves. You couldn’t ask for more delightful entertainment than these marine creatures. I tried several times to take pictures, but unfortunately none of them worked. Even though I zoomed in close with my camera, the seals were still too far away. Plus they are not exactly animals known for holding still. I would love to have shared those wonderful creatures with all of you. The seals were undoubtedly the “stars” of Sconset Beach that afternoon! Every child was in awe of them, running back and forth along the shore, shouting to their parents, “The seals! The seals!”.
All I have to offer instead is a little shorebird (a plover?), scooting around the wet sand. Do you know how stupid I looked trying to take a picture of this guy? He was so fast! I chased him around like a fool. But I couldn’t help it. He was cute
Sconset Beach magically makes you feel like a kid again. Especially when you see things like boogie boards everywhere:
It wouldn’t be Museworthy if I didn’t post some dumb spontaneous picture of myself. Lying on my blanket, in a blissful, drowsy, semi-conscious state of sumer relaxation, I lazily reached over for my camera and snapped this picture of me sunbathing. The banana really makes it, don’t you think?
The grounds of the White Elephant hotel at Brant Point:
Historic buildings on cobblestone streets in Nantucket town:
The Nantucket landscape is full of breathtaking surprises. Look at this shot. Without the house in the background, you could think this was the Serengeti Plain in Africa. That lone tree is spectacular:
So friends, that’s just some of my trip to Nantucket. And to think I didn’t even mention the wonderful shops in town, the great restaurants with the freshest seafood and produce you can imagine, the historic sights, and also the really nice people of Nantucket, whose laid-back hospitality and good cheer I will never forget. I met many nice folks, both fellow vacationers and native Nantucket residents. Which reminds me to send out a special hello to Paul. Thank you . . . 
My Summer Getaway
Well friends, I am off to Nantucket! It’s been far too long since I’ve enjoyed a summer sojourn. I went nowhere last year. Just languished here in the sticky city. Yuck. But the New England waters off the coast of Cape Cod are calling out my name, “Come, Claudia!! Come rest your weary art modeling muscles on our beautiful shores!”. I predict that Nantucket will return me to the Big Apple well-rested and rejuvenated, with calmness and serenity in my mind. I have my books, my sunscreen, a brand new bathing suit waiting to be broken in, and already made arrangements with a neighbor to put out food for Kate. So I am prepped and ready to go!
I’m NOT bringing my MacBook with me. It’s a vacation after all. So Museworthy will be “postless” for several days. Just letting you all know so you don’t think I’m slacking off. I’ll be back next week and will resume blogging my little butt off. And hopefully I’ll have some nice pictures to share.
So I bid you just a temporary farewell, and have chosen to honor the occasion with a painting by the American artist Winslow Homer. This painting was first exhibited at the National Academy of Design, a place I work regularly.
From the year 1870, this is Eagle Head, Manchester, Massachusetts (High Tide), oil on canvas:
Much love, and hugs, and kisses to everyone. See you soon!
Claudia
Animal Love
When I composed the “About” page on this blog, which was almost a year ago, I didn’t include the term “animal lover” in some casual fashion. It was not meant as mere biographical filler or an anecdotal tidbit about myself designed to sound cute and make me look like a “feeling person”. It’s a cause that has meant a great deal to me my whole life. I haven’t jumped on the animal rights/vegan/PETA bandwagon only in recent years because Hollywood celebrities have made the cause trendy (which is fine with me anyway). Animal welfare – a term I prefer over “animal rights”- runs through my veins. For as far back as I can remember, since early childhood, concern and compassion for animals is something I’ve carried around every single day. I couldn’t divorce myself from it even if I wanted to, which I don’t. It’s inherent to my character, my nature, my humanity. I am one with it. And my heart beats stronger because of it.
I was out with my good friend Fred the other night, and we discussed this issue over some chai tea at Starbucks. I told him that I’d been mulling over the idea of starting a second blog, one devoted to animals and the animal rights cause. But two blogs is a lot of work, and demands a lot of time that I don’t have, unfortunately. I already put a lot of effort into Museworthy, and I would hate to author two blogs and find myself neglecting one over the other. So I was torn about what to do. But Fred, who is a loyal reader of Museworthy and someone who knows me very well, assured me that I could integrate animal issues into Museworthy and that my readers wouldn’t mind one bit. He reminded me that this is still “Claudia’s blog”, and that I shouldn’t worry about straying “off topic” or god forbid publishing a post that doesn’t deal with art, artists, or art modeling. Besides, I happen to know that there are many animal lovers among my readers, so no one will shoot me for it (at least I hope not!) :puts on bullet-proof vest:
So please understand that it’s not my intention to be strident and strict about this issue, get on a sopabox, or anything of that nature. In fairness, I’m not even a vegan, I’m just a vegetarian. So I’m no one to talk, or accuse others of hypocrisy. What I would like to do, however, is simply share with my readers a couple of very special organizations and books which I hold in very high regard. If you decide to check them out, you might just find your heart enveloped with mercy and compassion, much like I did when I learned about them.
One of my favorite animals is the elephant. I’m in awe of them. They are incredibly intelligent, sensitive, and complex creatures who deserve our respect. I can’t imagine why anyone would abuse an elephant but of course, they do. Here in the United States, in Tennessee of all places, we have the Elephant Sanctuary. A wonderful place that rescues elephants from abuse in circuses, where they are exploited for inane entertainment purposes. The elephants all have a unique personal story and have endured terrible adversity. At the Elephant Sanctuary they are finally given the opportunity to live safe, peaceful, dignified lives, among rolling hills, old-growth forests, and clear ponds.
Another organization I support is the Farm Sanctuary. They have two beautiful locations; one in northern California and one in upstate New York. Livestock animals have it worst of all because they are exempt from animal cruelty laws. They are subjected to treatment that is so cruel it is downright sadistic. While it is easy for people to get indignant and outraged over, say, Michael Vick and his dogfighting, because dogs are our cute, faithful companions, farm animals are the ignored, forgotten souls. They are the slaughtered sentient creatures who die in terror, hung upside down dangling from a conveyor belt, squealing and crying out in a state of fear and confusion. The Farm Sanctuary gives them hope, and provides a humane haven for these passive, docile animals.
The new book by Karen Dawn, Thanking the Monkey is superb. I almost feel like buying one for every person I know. Again, the arguments are not shrill and intolerant. If anything, Karen presents practical choices and understands fully that expecting every human being to adapt major changes in their lives is not necessarily realistic. But for anyone who feels even traces of empathy, or harbors unspoken discomfort over animal abuse, there are alternatives available to them. I can give you one example from my own life. A while back, I was horrified to discover that a major cosmetic company still engages in pointless animal testing that is not only cruel but primitive and idiotic. For years I bought makeup products from this shitty company. When I found out about their barbaric experimentation, I wanted no part of it. So what did I do? Very simple solution. I stopped buying their products. And in doing so I discovered an animal-safe company whose cosmetics I like a lot better anyway! No inconvenience to me at all. The easiest change I’ve ever made in my life. Different makeup, big whoop. Will it save every animal on the planet? Of course not. But it’s something.
Last thing I’d like to share is what I think is probably the best book ever written about animal welfare. And it was written by a political conservative and former speechwriter to President Bush! Never thought one of my favorite books would come from anyone in politics, let alone a conservative Republican. But there it is. The book is Dominion, by Matthew Scully. And it is truly a work of art. There are some passages in that book that stirred my soul (sorry for the cliche, but it’s true). He presents his point of view with such profound humanity, and argues his points with a thoughtful, sensitive, and philosophical wisdom. Great book. If any publication has the potential to “convert” someone, Dominion is it.
“As long as there are slaughterhouses, there will be battlefields” – Leo Tolstoy
“The question is not ‘Can they reason?’ nor ‘Can they talk?’ but rather ‘Can they suffer?” – Jeremy Bentham
“If a man aspires toward a righteous life, his first act of abstinence is from injury to animals” – Albert Einstein
“All beings tremble before violence. All fear death, all love life. See yourself in others. Then whom can you hurt? What harm can you do?” – Buddha
Thanks for reading everyone
Suzanne Valadon – Muse, Artist, Heartbreaker
French women. What is it about them? Not only do they make great muses, but they seem to live passionate, unbridled lives, defined by independence, strong will, and self-determination. I’ve had to delve into several of their biographies for Museworthy posts, and each time reveals women who love the men they want to love, follow the paths they want to follow, and do things on their own terms. And they do it all unapologetically. No one tells them what they can or cannot do. The word “conformity” is not in their vocabulary, and the social mores and conventions of the day play no part in their decision-making process. Although I like to fancy my own life as one defined by passion, independence, and inspiration, when I juxtapose mine to these women’s, I feel comparatively banal. Yes, banal. Me! Holy crap.
Whether it’s the tortured and devoted Jeanne Hebuterne, the disciplined and talented Victorine Meurent, or the tough as nails survivor that is Francoise Gilot, French women possess an admirable spirit. And to think I haven’t even gotten to Camille Claudel yet! Don’t worry, she’s coming. But until then, Suzanne Valadon will fit seamlessly into the annals of formidable French bohemian ladies.
Born in 1865 near Limoges, France, the illegitimate daughter of a laundress, Suzanne Valadon started working at an early age, taking any job she could get. Her disadvantaged childhood and lack of formal education would not stop her from making something of her life. She became a circus performer in her teens, but had to quit after sustaining an injury from a trapeze fall. So she moved to Montmarte and became an artist’s model.
Suzanne posed regularly for some of the most important artists at the time, such as Auguste Renoir, Toulouse-Lautrec, and Pierre Puvis de Chavannes, with whom she had an affair. It is believed she had an affair with Renoir as well. Suzanne would have many lovers during her art modeling days in Montmartre, where she partied at the clubs and cabarets, and put her liberal and unconventional attitudes toward sex on full display – attitudes which would soon be expressed in her own artwork. The restless muse would discover that she, too, had things to say on canvas, not as model, but with her own brush.
Renoir’s Girl Braiding her Hair, with Suzanne as the model:
Suzanne as the subject for Toulouse-Lautrec’s The Hangover:
Through Suzanne’s prolific art modeling work she was able to to something I have so far been unable to do; she observed, learned and absorbed art techniques from the artists around her. A better art education one couldn’t ask for. Suzanne soon began to create her own paintings, and Toulouse-Lautrec was among the first to recognize her talent and encourage her. Suzanne’s good friend Edgar Degas did the same. Degas, in fact, was so impressed with Suzanne’s artistic ability that he bought three of her paintings.
Suzanne’s self-portrait, done in pastel:
In 1883, at the age of eighteen, Suzanne became pregnant. She never revealed the father of the child, who would grow up to be the artist Maurice Utrillo.
Suzanne met composer Erik Satie when he was playing the piano at the Auberge du Clou, a Paris nightclub and one of Suzanne’s frequent haunts. The 26 year old Satie was naive and inexperienced to the ways of the world, and the capricious, wild-living Suzanne was probably not the right woman to initiate him into adult romances. They began an intense affair, and Satie, who fell head-over-heels in love with her, is said to have proposed marriage to Suzanne during their first night together. But predictably, Suzanne broke Satie’s fragile heart after only six months. Satie wrote that she left him with “an icy lonliness that fills the head with emptiness and the heart with sadness”.
Suzanne Valadon’s portrait of her lover Satie:
Suzanne abandoned portraiture for a time and focused heavily on the female nude, the subject for which she is most known. Her painting style is frank, lively, and modern. Here are just a few of Suzanne Valadon’s figure paintings. They are bold, almost aggressively nude, very evocative, and decidedly Post-Impressionistic:
Suzanne married stockbroker Paul Moussis in 1896. After 15 years, she left him for an artist 21 years her junior, Andre Utter. That marriage didn’t last either but the relationship was artistically productive for both. Throughout her lifetime, Suzanne’s art career was consistently successful. Her four one-woman shows met with critical acclaim, and she earned a highly respected reputation as an accomplished painter with a keen vision.
Suzanne Valadon died in 1938, and her funeral brought out many luminaries of the Paris art world. Among those who came to pay their respects were Georges Braque, Andre Derain, and Pablo Picasso. Suzanne Valadon’s works hang today in the Musee de Beaux Arts and the Metropolitan Museum, among many others. The poor girl from Limoges made her mark, indeed. Vive Suzanne!
The Perils of Male Art Models
My last post about Michelangelo and his nude men, male and female anatomy, etc, got me thinking about male art models in general. Even though I’m able to candidly discuss and share all my art modeling experiences, there is, believe it or not, one topic of my profession that I am unable to address. Because I’m a woman, and we are happily invulnerable to this male art model “issue”, thanks to our blessed anatomy. It’s happened to some male art models I know. I can imagine how mortifying it must be!
This video clip from a British television comedy says it all. It’s predictable, but still funny. Have fun, guys! 
Gender Maneuvers from Michelangelo
Don’t mess with a prophetess. At least not the ones portrayed by Michelangelo because you might get your ass kicked. One of the many highlights of Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel is his depiction of the Libyan Sibyl, female prophet of classical mythology. Let’s take a look at it:
Now let’s take a look at Michelangelo’s preparatory sketch for the Libyan Sibyl:
Ok, what’s wrong with this picture? Anybody? Yeah, it’s pretty obvious. The model for the sketch was clearly a male. One of Michelangelo’s studio assistants to be exact.
Before I get to my main theme, I just want to point out that the pose of the Libyan Sibyl, especially as it’s represented in the final painting, really rocks. Amazing. The strength and movement just jumps right out at you, and the contrapposto twist in the shoulders oozes motion. It showcases the human body in a truly extraordinary way. Active, assertive, but still beautiful and elegant. Throw in the the pivot and pressure coming from the left big toe (also practiced in the drawing as you can see) and you have a stunning image. Look at the angles and the architecture. Great, great pose.
Michelangelo’s attraction to the male form, both aesthetically and emotionally, is fairly common knowledge. But even if we put aside Michelangelo’s homosexuality, we know that the male figure was widely regarded as the height of beauty during the Renaissance period, far superior to that of the female. Michelangelo was certainly not the only artist of the age to employ only male models, but we can infer that he derived extra special pleasure from the experience.
With all due respect for art history, the great masterpieces, and gifted genuises like Michelangelo, I’m going to segue into a terribly superficial mindset, so please forgive me in advance. Maybe it’s because I’m female AND an art model. Or maybe I was swayed by a bawdy remark made by one of my artist friends a couple of years ago, who said that female figures in Renaissance art “all look like male stone masons in the nude with a pair of tits slapped on”. Yes, that provoked many a chuckle when it was uttered, and I was one of several people who were in earshot. When artists express opinions, they can be pretty blunt! But still his basic premise was accurate. Let’s face it. That old practice of using men as models for female figures produced a lot of art in which the women look, well, let’s just say “butch”. Somewhat “estrogen-deprived”. A little “gender dysmorphic”. You get the idea.
Michelangelo painted a total of five Sibyls in the fresco. Here is the Erythraean Sibyl. Remember, the Sibyls are female:
The Delphic Sibyl:
The Cumaean Sibyl:
No, no, no, I’m sorry. That last one is way over the top. That shit ain’t right. Michelangelo is just messing with our heads with the Cumaean. That’s just . . . just . . . wrong! What the hell is going on there?? That IS a stone mason!
Now I have had many unorthodox things done with my body – and then I became an art model. (naughty joke alert! HAHAHAHA!). No really, I’ve seen myself depicted in less than realistic ways, with artists’ hands taking freestyle liberties with my body parts. But I always appear female. Also, I’ve seen beginning artists toil away, trying to learn the differences between male and female anatomy, and reflect them in their drawings – those key places which hold the physical characteristics of the genders: shoulders, waist, hips. And then here’s Michelangelo scoffing at all of it, paying no mind to those characteristics and distinctions. He says to us, “Even though I used a male model from life this is a female, and you will accept it! Case closed”.
In concluding this post I will faithfully stay within my superficial mindset, and assert that while probably no artist in history depicted the male figure better than Michelangelo, females not so much. But when Michelangelo’s males are supposed to be male, they are sublime. And his own intimate love and admiration for the male form can be profoundly felt by all who view his masculine creations. There are so many amazing male figures in the Sistine Chapel, but my personal favorite has always been Adam:
Study for Adam:
Art Model Funnies, Part 3
Ready for the weekend, friends? What’s on everyone’s summer fun agenda? Bicycling, picnicking, swimming at the beach, reading a good book, watching the Olympics? I might try to do a little of all the aforementioned activities. Weather here in New York is simply divine! Of course I’ll probably end up spending a ridiculous amount of time chasing Kate around trying to take pictures of her, much to her irritation. She hates me.
My art model cartoon collection still contains a couple I’ve yet to publish on Museworthy. So here they are for a laugh, and to kick off the weekend. I’m definitely going to buy more of these in the future.
Two from Joseph Farris. Nude art model observes her painting in a gallery:
And inside the minds of still life “models”:
I LOVE this one, from Roy Delgado. A dog artist and his model. My favorite!!!
My Svelte Self
I’ve lost some weight recently. Don’t know the exact number of pounds, but it’s enough to have created a looser-fitting waist in my jeans. It wasn’t intentional I swear, although I have a couple of theories as to how this has happened. Warm summer weather decreases appetite, and that’s especially true for me. Just don’t feel particularly hungry. Plus, I’m a vegetarian, so my diet is pretty low in fat and calories, except for my nightly case of beer (just kidding ) Also, I’ve been exercising much more regularly. Tons of running and bicycling, so I must be burning a lot off.
Ordinarily I wouldn’t care so much, but four different people lately have commented right to my face, “Wow, Claudia, you lost weight!”. Then I suddenly felt self-conscious. I thought, shit do I look THAT skinny?? I hope not. I’m never skinny like emaciated skinny. I have muscle tone, and curves believe it or not. I’m just not, well, Jennifer Lopez. Or Beyonce. And kudos to them because I think they look great.
It’s probably lucky for me that I am an artist’s model in this shallow, thin-obssessed, “skinny bitch” magazine-covered time in history. It sounds like a horrible thing to say – that me or anyone would exploit and benefit from such a superficial value as thinness. But friends, I’m just being practical here. This is about making a living and paying the bills dammit! if this were the 17th century and I tried to get art modeling work, I’d be laughed at and run out of town. I’d be totally unemployable. So I say thank god for the ever-changing beauty ideals. Can you imagine me walking into the studio of Flemish painter Peter Paul Rubens soliciting art modeling work? He’d not only reject me, he’d probably try to shove greasy pork chops down my throat, and berate me for not having a body like one of his full-figured babes. And then they’d start laughing at me too! Bitches.
Rubens’ The Three Graces:
Yeah, the artists in New York love me just the way I am They could probably come up with many adjectives to describe both my personality and my figure. But “rubenesque” is definitely NOT one of them! Sorry Peter, but I’m not your girl.
An Artists’ Haven, and the Graffiti Building of LIC
In my previous post I discussed private art modeling, and made a passing reference to artists finding their own studio space. The search for such a space – an affordable one, I should say – is a popular topic among New York artists. In a city whose real estate development and cost of living expenses have skyrocketed dramatically over the past decade, the hunt for a plain old no-frills art studio can be a discouraging one indeed.
But despite all the frustration and mind-numbing rents, the situation is not completely hopeless. There are spaces to be found, believe it or not! With a little persistence and resourcefulness, New York artists have sniffed out little “pockets” of the city, and have breathed new life into old neighborhoods as a result. With Manhattan having driven out so many artists (must accommodate the millionaires, you know), the borough of Queens, of all places, has inherited them. Welcomed them with open arms. But 25 years ago if you had told me, a native Queens girl, that our borough would one day become a hip artist’s haven, I never would have believed it. And no amount of booze and drugs could have created such an unreal hallucination.
Long Island City – the “LIC” of my post title – sits on the westernmost part of Queens, directly across the East River from midtown Manhattan. It was originally part of a much broader area known as “Newtown Township”, which also included Dutch Kills, Bowery Bay, Hunterspoint, Ravenswood, and parts of Astoria and Sunnyside. Long Island City has now taken on it’s own unique identity, and contributes to the overall “image makeover” that Queens is undergoing.
These days, when I take on a private art modeling job, I find myself more and more going to LIC (or its close neighbor Astoria). Although I’m still working in private art studios in Manhattan and Brooklyn, I increasingly find something like “LIC, take 7 train to Courthouse Road, cross under el, walk 3 blocks” etc, scribbled in my work assignment book.
For my newest private job, I’m working in what is known locally- and famously- as the “Five Pointz” building, at the corner of Crane Street and Jackson. There are many buildings like this in western Queens. They’re all converted warehouses, and the studios are quite good, pretty roomy, and most with excellent light. This one, though, stands out for obvious reasons. I think it is now one of the few public structures in the city where graffiti art is not only legal but organized by the tagging community as a showcase for their work. A living collage, the Five Pointz facade is constantly changing, and serves as a mecca for street artists:
For many decades, Long Island City was purely industrial, known for providing the terminus of the 59th Street Bridge, and for factories and manufacturing. When I was growing up, we knew it as “the place with all the bakeries”. Huge bakeries! Where every loaf of bread seemed to come from, before they ended up in breadbaskets on restaurant tables around town. LIC was also once home to a Pepsi-Cola bottling plant, Fisher Electronics, Swingline Staples, and Chiclets Gum. Here’s more of the Five Pointz, exterior and interiors:
Today, Long Island City has more to boast than just warehouses and factories, and it basks in its transformation. It is home to PS1 Contemporary Art Center, which is an affiliate of the Museum of Modern Art. In fact, when MoMA was undergoing major renovations several years ago, it relocated to Queens in the interim. Once again, Queens to the rescue! Holding down the fort while Manhattan is preoccupied. Also in LIC are Isamu Noguchi’s sculpture garden and museum (converted from an old photo-engraving plant), the Socrates Sculpture Park, the American Museum of the Moving Image, and Queens’ beloved SilverCup Studios, known for the production of many television shows, among them HBO’s The Sopranos. Throw in the biggest fortune cookie factory in the United States (they produce 4 million a day) and the headquarters for the Fresh Direct grocery delivering service (a company many New Yorkers can’t live without!) and you have a diverse community buzzing with production and activity, both artistic and commercial. And what a happy marriage it is Yay Queens!! Rock on . . . you big galoot!
A Private Affair
Did you hear that? It was the sound of crickets chirping. Things are silent, barren, dormant. I have officially entered the art model’s work “wasteland” that is August. With the exception of Spring Studios, all my places of employment have shut down for a long summer siesta. National Academy is closed, School of Visual Arts is closed, Studio School is closed, FIT is closed. I can see the cobwebs forming and the dust accumulating with my own eyes. Well, not really, but you get the idea.
So what does an art model do for work – and money – during this idle standstill? Private art modeling, that’s what. Of course, models do private work all year round, but summer is the ideal time. Why would an artist spend the extra dough to hire a model privately? Plenty of reasons. You can have the model you want, the pose you want, the setup you want, the angle you want, the lighting you want, even the hours and days you want. Everything tailored to your preferences. Everything designed to serve your individual artistic vision. Not that there’s anything wrong with a class session, but for many artists it has its restrictions. Say it’s a two-week painting class and you don’t care for the model. You’re stuck with it. Say you don’t like the instructor-dictated pose. You’re stuck with it. Say you want to work for four hours instead of three? Again, you’re stuck with it. If you want things your way, you have to get your own studio space and hire your muse.
I do private work with artists and this summer I’m working with three. One of them is my good friend Scott Lawson. Scott and I have been working together for over a year now, and the experience has been both productive and enjoyable. I often talk about the model’s role as muse, and it’s during private, one-on-one work that the model wears the muse mantle in the truest, purest sense of the word.
Scott is a traditional figurative artist. He perceives his paintings before they happen and knows exactly what he wants, which is why only private sessions can provide the creative environment he needs. Plus, he wants the model who inspires him
Scott and I have just begun a new painting, which is already coming alive in a stunning way. But here I will post the piece we completed earlier this year.
By Scott Lawson, this is Claudia, oil on linen, 2008:
Kate Update
Back in June I posted about my garden cat Kate, and since then a couple of people have inquired as to how she’s doing. I’m happy to report that she’s doing great! Like all cats, she sets the boundaries and makes the rules. They’re so different from dogs.
My original goal was to develop enough trust with Kate so that she’d eventually come live inside the house. But I’ve decided to abandon that idea, since she’s pretty content living outside like a feral creature. She hangs out with her cat friends – other ferals in the neighborhood – and she sleeps in and around the shrubbery, swipes playfully at bumblebees and crawling beetles, catches mice, and eats well. She’s living the good life. As a break from regular cat food, I treat her every once in a while to a can of tuna or sardines. When she sees me emerge with the can, she meows in eager anticipation. She’s so cute!
I tried to take pictures of her the other day but she was a difficult bitch about it. I guess she’s camera shy – the complete opposite of her caretaker! Here’s the best one I was able to manage:
And here is my solution to the salmonella tomato scare we had here in the U.S recently. (Or was it jalapeno peppers?). Actually, I grow tomatoes every summer. This year’s crop isn’t nearly as good as last year’s, not sure why. But this sucker, once it ripens, will be pretty tasty with some olive oil and basil. Bon appetit!
