Raphael and the Baker’s Daughter

George Clooney may fancy himself a dashing ladies’ man, but he’s got nothing on the Italian Renaissance master Raphael. Incredibly charming and good-looking by all accounts, Raphael was a perennial bachelor who never married in spite of outside pressure. Even though he was very publicly engaged to one woman, he followed his heart (and other body parts) by romancing and consorting with many other women. Many, MANY other women. The biographer Vasari described Raphael as “a very amorous person, delighting much in women and ever ready to serve them”. Or, in contemporary slang, we could say that Raphael was a “playa”

In 1514, Raphael became engaged to Maria Bibbiena, the niece of Cardinal Medici Bibbiena who was Raphael’s patron. The story goes that the reluctant Raphael had to be persuaded into the engagement, and that he eventually agreed simply to please his benefactor the Cardinal. But Raphael’s loveless engagement to Maria may have been the longest, most futile engagement in history. Raphael stalled and stalled, bedding other women for six long years, until Maria died in 1520, still unmarried. Way to dodge a bullet Raphael! Nice strategy. Keep delaying until the fiancé dies. That’s messed up.

The woman who apparently won the heart and passionate desires of the playboy artist was of far lower social stature than the cardinal’s niece. She was Margherita Luti, a baker’s daughter from Siena.

This is Raphael’s famous portrait of Margherita, and possibly his last painting, La Fornarina, which translates into “baker’s daughter” or “bakeress”:

Margherita’s seated pose in this painting is quite risqué, especially for the 16th century. Not only is she barely clothed, but notice that one hand is clasping her breast while the other is placed, um, between her legs. Damn, that almost makes ME blush! Her full, rounded belly and large dark eyes complete Raphael’s perception of his mistress – his lover and muse with whom he was thoroughly besotted. Rumor has it that Raphael and Margherita actually married in secret, but it’s just speculation. Like most romances of centuries past, the true details will never be known.

Raphael died on Good Friday at the young age of 37, and if Vasari is to be believed, the cause was a high fever he contracted after a night of exhausting, wild sex with Margherita. That’s a pretty sensational story, but hey, crazier things have happened. And if it is true, well that’s a hell of a way to go

For more analysis and speculation of the Raphael/Margherita romance, check out this article from Slate. You can find another entertaining article from the BBC.

Brotherly Love

Whew. I’m tired. Two hectic days can really knock you out. Between Flora Giffuni’s memorial and my mother’s birthday and an art modeling double at Spring Studio today, I’m pooped! And I have FIT in the morning. I think I need to take bigger doses of ginseng or B vitamins or something. Maybe espresso administered through an IV? I’m home unwinding right now and hope to get a good, restful night’s sleep. That’s what I really need.

Back in June, I posted about the two adorable kittens who were born in my garden to their feral mommy, Punk. Thought some of you might like an update on those siblings. You’ll be happy to know that they are doing really well. Maturing and getting big. And they LOVE having their pictures taken! So ladies and gentlemen, I present the two brothers, Prince and Jackson

Flora Giffuni

Edgar Degas was one of the finest pastelists of all time and also one of the great champions of the medium. But Degas died in 1917 and, based on a cursory overview of art history styles and trends, seems to have taken the art of pastel with him to his grave. For most of the subsequent 20th century, brash, bold oil painters dominated the scene, making statements with their wet brushes and squeezed out tubes, applying paint in shiny, gooey strokes, smears, sometimes splatters. All very macho you know One wonders if any of them even owned a pastel set, let alone held one of those chalky, powdery pigment sticks in their hand.

So where did pastel go for so many decades? Sadly, it was demoted, almost into oblivion, branded with an unfair stereotype as a creative activity for hobbyist housewives and senior citizens in community center art classes. Despite its origins tracing all the way back to the 16th century, pastel simply fell off the radar, and was no longer considered a medium for “important” art (whatever that means).

But now, pastelists and pastel appreciators everywhere should take note. Last month on September 10th, Flora Giffuni, sole founder and president of the Pastel Society of America, died at the age of 89. I acknowledge her passing on this blog not just as pioneering figure in the art world, but for personal reasons as well.

I knew Flora Giffuni since I was a child. My mother knew her for over 40 years. Flora, or “Mrs. Giffuni” as I called her, used to live in the same Queens neighborhood I grew up in, and where my Mom still lives to this day. An accomplished pastelist, Flora began teaching small private art classes in her home studio, and my mother was one of her regular dedicated students. The sessions were wonderfully rewarding, educational and enjoyable for everyone who participated. Flora herself always recalled those days with great fondness, as she was extremely proud her early tight-knit group of students. My mother has often said that she felt she learned more under Flora’s tutelage than from all her fine arts classes at Hunter College in the 1950s.

In 1972, Flora founded the Pastel Society of America, the first and only such organization of its kind. With this creation, pastel work underwent a long-needed rebirth. A renaissance. One which inspired a whole new wave of serious pastel artists, among them my good friend Sam Goodsell.

A passionate advocate throughout her life, Flora Giffuni worked tirelessly to promote the pastel medium and was responsible for the creation of 30 regional pastel societies around the United States. Degas would have been proud.

In recent years I was privileged to pose for Flora Giffuni’s classes in her Saturday atelier held at the National Arts Club, which is home to the Pastel Society. It was funny to both me and Flora that she had known me for so long as “Elaine’s little girl”, and now I was a fully grown woman posing as her nude model! In her wheelchair, Flora sat in a prime location right in front of the model stand, sorting through her pastels, talking, cracking jokes, telling stories, offering instruction and tips, delighting in every minute of the art class dynamic. Old age, back surgery and arthritic fingers were no match for her indomitable spirit. She just kept on doing what she loved.

One of Flora’s personal favorites of all her works, this is Red Ribbon:

Next Monday night, a memorial celebration will be held in Flora Giffuni’s honor, from 4 – 6 in the Grand Gallery of the National Arts Club. That date, October 26th, would have been Flora’s 90th birthday. It is also, get this, my mother’s birthday Many of us will be attending, and I’m sure it will be a terrific gathering.

With this tribute post, I express appreciation to Flora for reviving the beauty, tradition, and technique of pastel, for employing life models, and for mentoring and inspiring countless artists for over five decades. RIP “Mrs. Giffuni”.

Blogging Bits

Helloooo friends! Posting today because I’m working a full day tomorrow at FIT and wanted to give a few Museworthy updates. So first, I recently started a Flickr account. Since I love taking pictures and want to get better at it, I figured having a photo sharing site will motivate me to do more photography. More quality photography I should say. I’ve already uploaded some sets and much more is on the way. You may recognize some of the pictures from Museworthy but there are also new ones. Go directly to my photostream by clicking on the Flickr image box in my sidebar, just scroll down. And those of you who are on Flickr, please connect with me on there so we can be cuddly Flickr friends

I also added a Search button in the sidebar that Museworthy visitors might find useful. Heck, I’ve even used it already!

Next, I decided to spruce up my blogroll with some fresh new additions. Check out the terrific daydream pilot, which I’ve been really enjoying lately. I’ve also included If Charlie Parker Was a Gunslinger for some cool pop culture fun. Neat site. One of the best blog blurbs I’ve seen comes from Futility Closet, which describes itself thusly: “An idler’s miscellany of compendious amusements”. Topics run the gamut from religion to history to science to bizarre oddities. And last but not least, longtime Museworthy reader and commenter ColdSilverMoon has taken the blogging plunge! His newly-launched Figuratively Speaking promises to be an authentic, passionate voice of art modeling and the figurative tradition, so let’s get him off to an auspicious start.

I’ll leave you all with an image for the day. This is Female Nude, 1910, by Egon Schiele:

Therapy With Melody

I’m starting to think that the secrets to understanding- and coping- with life’s disappointments are found in two concepts: “perspective” and “attitude”. For highly sensitive people like myself this can be a Herculean undertaking. Everything is acute. Sadness feels like sadness, and it consumes you. Rage feels like rage, and it consumes you. Without the mitigating effect of a broader, healthier perspective, you fall into a hopeless state of emotional pain and self-pity, which is an utterly pointless and unproductive state to be in.

Fortitude is a magnificent quality, is it not? Sometimes I wonder if I possess it at all. The people who know me well understand that I am alternately strong and weak. They are familiar with two Claudias; the Claudia who can tough things out, like I tough out “the beast”, and the Claudia who crushes like a shell, exposing her jelly-like insides for the whole world to see. And then I read about the life story of jazz singer Melody Gardot, and I am in awe of how some people overcome adversity.

In 2003, Melody Gardot was struck by a Jeep Cherokee while riding her bike in Philadelphia. The accident was severe. She suffered head and spinal injuries and her pelvis was shattered in two places. Melody spent an entire year in the hospital, on her back, in a full body cast. Reminds me a lot of what Frida Kahlo endured as a result of her trolley car accident.

In the face of physical incapacitation, extreme pain, memory loss, difficulty speaking, and damage to the neural pathways in the brain cortexes, Melody launched a showdown of wills with her disabilities. It began with simple humming into a tape recorder. That led to eventually playing the guitar and writing songs. Then came a strict macrobiotic diet. Finally, Melody’s spiritual recovery was achieved when she became a practicing Buddhist. She is now recording and performing and is a vocal advocate for music therapy.

Melody Gardot’s miraculous rehabilitation and poignant artistic expression are brilliant proof of the old saying, “Attitude is everything”. Specifically, a positive attitude. Norman Vincent Peale was right. So the next time I find myself brooding and crying and feeling despondent over J or whatever, I will listen to Melody Gardot. She is an inspiration in the truest sense of the word. I knew it the first moment I heard her jazzy inflections coming across the radio waves on the Jonathan Schwartz NPR show. I thought to myself, “Wow. This woman has a story to tell”. And boy does she.

This is Melody Gardot singing “Who Will Comfort Me”:

Food, Wine, Family

Now and then, a distracting diversion comes at the most opportune time. I’m grateful when that happens. A big gathering of friends and family is taking place at my mother’s house Saturday night, and it will likely be a joyful, boisterous, and entertaining event. My Mom is an outstanding hostess, always has been. The woman definitely knows how to throw a party!

The welcome aspect of this, besides the people I’m looking forward to seeing, is that yesterday I experienced something of a heartbreak I had my suspicions it was coming, but it doesn’t fully comprehend until it actually hits you. So tomorrow’s get-together should provide some temporary redirection of my mood, which right now is in the toilet.

Of course, I’m going to lend a helping hand to my mother and bring a homecooked dish for what is turning out to be a fabulous culinary feast. After consulting with Mom, I’ve decided to try my hand at this delicious-looking vegetable tagine, from my favorite vegan cooking website. It’s author, Vaishali, is a wonderfully creative, inspiring, and informative cook, and every time I peruse her blog my appetite becomes stimulated by the mouthwatering sights and flavors of her ethnic recipes. She also posts the most precious pictures of her dogs and cats! If I have time, I might also make a Pakistani dahl as a side dish. I LOVE dahl.

I suspect, however, that in addition to carrying out my assistant duties for my Mom – setting the table, serving, cleaning up spills, etc – I will grab private moments to hit the booze. Wine in particular. Must drown my heartbreak somehow. Especially since I’ll be incessantly thinking about, pining over, and yearning painfully for this incredible, amazing person.

So while I will be pleasantly – and fleetingly – occupied with the company of family, friends, food, and drink, and laughter, my true emotional and mental state during the party will more closely resemble this painting by John William Waterhouse, Destiny. You know you’re in the depths of melancholy when you see yourself mirrored in the faces of those sad, reflective, forlorn Pre-Raphaelite women:

Have a great weekend everyone. See you soon.

Hippy Chick

Who needs a doctor’s diagnosis when all your friends are artists? I trust their knowledge of human anatomy more than any MD. Plus it’s a lot easier to get an appointment

During my short poses at Spring Studio last night, a nagging pain in my right hip started to act up. It’s been bothering me for a couple of weeks now. I never feel it when I’m walking, bicycling, running, or standing. It only hurts during yoga and art modeling, two physical activities which bear many similarities of course. Since I do a lot of forward bending and pelvic twists when I model, it’s become a bit of a problem. Now I’m a pretty tough babe when it comes to pain. I can live with it. But when my art modeling performance is compromised, and my flexibility is hindered, I get upset. It prevents me from posing with the ease and flow I’ve worked so hard to perfect.

Luckily, my friend Dan was at Spring last night and I talked with him on my break about my sore hip. He reminded me that the hip joint has many ligaments which can be pulled just like any other ligament in the body. And what a fascinating little example of engineering the hip joint is. Our long femur bone has a rounded head at the top which articulates into a cup shape on the side of the pelvis. Layers of cartilage cover all surfaces of the joint, along with the all-important ligaments – the tissue that connects bone to other bone – without which the human body would literally be unable to move. When seniors or those afflicted with arthritis have to undergo hip replacement surgery, it is the joint that is being replaced. A prosthetic implant is used as a substitute for the degenerated hip.

What I’m experiencing is not an issue of weight or pressure. I can stand still just fine for prolonged periods. My pain occurs with rotation. And it totally sucks, since that kind of movement is essential for dramatic, expressive art modeling. Last night, when I tried to take an open-hipped pose with my thigh turned out, I actually let out an audible moan of discomfort

I can almost pinpoint my pain in the exact area I discussed with Dan. If the strain was in the hip flexors the pain would be more an all-over sensation, felt down through the thigh and even down to the knee. But mine is felt in one specific spot, at the heart of the joint, whenever I try to rotate and then bend.

The bone structure of the human hip:

It’s ironic that the most therapeutic poses for a given anatomical area are difficult to do when that area is sore. I tried to do hip stretches/openers the other day and they really hurt! So it’s a conundrum. Or is it a catch-22?

The pigeon pose in yoga is one of the best hip moves, great for anybody. It provides hip flexibility along with a wonderful backbend. If you’re able to settle into the pigeon comfortably, you’ll find it quite relaxing and soft, even meditative.

This is not me in the photo, but a fantastic yoga practitioner doing an advanced version of the pigeon. Raising the back leg to the head isn’t necessary but certainly impressive! It’s perfectly fine to extend the back leg straight along the ground and do your backbend freely to whatever degree you find comfortable. Look at this phenomenal hip opener:

Going to the Gallery

New art gallery shows open almost every week in this town. They’re everywhere, from midtown to Chelsea to Tribeca to SoHo to Brooklyn. Some of them are worth seeing, others not so much. But I am particularly excited for the show about to open next week at the Alex Adam Gallery in Harlem.

Just the show’s theme is something wonderfully different. It’s called “Artists and Monitors – Showcasing work of three of New York’s most extraordinary contemporary figurative artists, and the painters who are and have been privileged to be their assistants.” How great is that? As a model, I can tell you firsthand that art class monitors are invaluable to the teachers. Not only do they attend to practical details, like studio setups and pose timing, but they forge a special bond with the instructors, often developing a mentor/protege relationship. Monitors work incredibly hard both at keeping the class running smoothly and at perfecting their own art. They take on a lot of responsibility, and that’s why the premise of this Artists and Monitors show is a well-deserved recognition for these gifted assistants.

The three featured New York artists are Sharon Sprung, Mary Beth McKenzie, and Costa Vavagiakis. I have worked with all of them. I’m also honored to know and have posed for, almost all of the featured monitors. But it is Janet Cook, monitor for Sharon Sprung, talented artist, and very dear friend of mine, with whom I am closest and have worked for privately for well over a year. Janet has the soul of a surrealist, one of the many things I love about her. Her artistic vision is consistently ambitious, imaginative, and original. From a model’s standpoint, those qualities make her an inspiring – and challenging – artist to pose for. I’ve learned a lot from Janet, I hope she knows that. Working with her has been one of  the most rewarding of all my art modeling experiences.

Janet and I have collaborated on a few paintings and one of them, much to our delight, will be exhibited among the many terrific works in the upcoming Alex Adam Gallery show. Yay! And here it is. By Janet Cook, this is The Light on the Dark Side of Me. It’s 48″ x 48″, oil on panel, and the model is, of course, yours truly

J

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.

- Pablo Neruda, “Clenched Soul”

Franceso Hayez,  The Kiss

Life in the Nude

A couple of years ago, a guy I had just met asked me what I did for a living and I told him I was a professional artist’s model. Then he asked me if I pose nude. Naturally, I answered “yes”. Then he asked me, “Do you walk around your house nude?”. Now I wasn’t sure, but I suspected that the question was inspired by smutty thoughts on his part, rather than genuine curiosity about the habits of art models. I asked him what he meant exactly. After all, many people who are not art models walk around nude from time to time, in the privacy of their homes. So the guy elaborated, and wondered aloud that since I WORK in the nude and am obviously comfortable in the nude, if I was ALWAYS nude. Literally. Like when I’m doing laundry, washing dishes, talking on the phone, writing emails, changing lightbulbs, etc. I didn’t care for what he was insinuating and explained that I’m a nude MODEL, not a nud-IST. Needless to say, I think he was disappointed.

Even though the guy was a bit of jerk who interpreted my profession through his own perceptions and fantasies rather than what it actually is, he did get me thinking. The truth is I do walk around nude occasionally. More often than normal? Honestly I have no clue because I have nothing to compare it with. I’ve never taken a survey. And I’m not in the habit of going around asking others, “Hey, how often do you walk around the house in the nude? Two hours a day? Three hours a day?”.

A lot of us do the after-shower nude thing, right? When you don’t bother with the robe and you’re running late, so you just get ready while nude. I don’t know why but I seem to move faster when I’m nude and LATE! One of my ex-boyfriends used to shave in the nude. Is that common? I have folded laundry nude. I’ve made the bed nude. And I’ve had phone conversations while nude but that’s only for steamy phone sex <—– KIDDING!! I KID!! I was accidentally nude once when answering the door to the UPS guy. My robe belt opened up and I was exposed for maybe two seconds, but he still got an eyeful.

With all this nude-around-the-house stuff, I’m obliged to mention that I live alone, and have no children. So I have zero propriety constraints. I’m footloose and fancy-free! But still, I am clothed most of the time. I don’t vacuum in the nude, I don’t wash dishes in the nude, I don’t do computer stuff in the nude, I don’t cook dinner in the nude. Reading, yes from time to time. Yoga? Nah. Well, sometimes semi-nude. Dancing? I’m sorry, that’s classified.

The nude in art is always tagged with the same descriptions: “reclining”, “standing”, “bathing”, “sleeping”, “daydreaming”, etc. Those are apparently the common and acceptable nude behaviors. Sometimes, though, you come across a work of art that places in the nude in a mundane activity, or even a bizarre activity, in a situation where the nudity seems oddly inappropriate and unrealistic.

This painting by Carl Larsson is not so strange. I would do this. Model Writing Postcards, 1906:

This, on the other hand, is quite peculiar. Why is this guy nude? From Andrew Wyeth, this is Man and the Moon. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful painting. But the nudity, on the side of the road, next to a Harley? Shit, when I do that I get propositioned by unsavory vagrants, especially on Tenth Avenue

Anyone play an instrument for enjoyment in their spare time? Try it in the nude! Don’t worry, nobody’s looking, except for maybe Anders Zorn. He painted his nude model strumming and contemplating in Studio Idyll from 1918.

I don’t know a lot of fishermen. Actually I don’t know any. But I assume that they don’t carry out their fishing activities in the nude. Do they??? From 1868, Frederic Bazille’s Fisherman With a Net:

This last painting is probably how that creepy guy imagined me and my wanton nude morality. A perpetually clothes-free woman. All nude, all the time. Both in private and in public, with neither boundaries nor wardrobe. You all know this one. Manet. Dejeuner Sur L’Herbe. Caused a huge scandal at the time. Today, we could just rename it “Picnic With Claudia”

I guess the lesson in all this is that you can do anything in the nude. Who needs clothes? But the key difference is that when you’re nude in ART you won’t get into trouble!

Wowee! I’m Online!!

Hello my darlings! My honeys! I’ve been trying to get to you ALL DAY. I set aside this lovely Friday as a blog “posting day”, and was hindered by connection problems It started this morning over coffee. Couldn’t get on any website, staring at “loading”, “loading”, still “loading”, for ten minutes, fifteen minutes, etc. Grrrrr!! Very frustrating. Brought me back to the old dial-up days, for which I harbor no fond feelings or warm and fuzzy nostalgia.

I’m going to share with you my troubleshooting strategy for all technical problems. Now it’s very advanced, so pay close attention: I shut down the computer and try to go back on an hour later. Brilliant, right? It didn’t work. So I unplugged my router and plugged it back in. That didn’t work either. (In my defense, the “unplugging and re-plugging” method has worked for me in the past with a TV and a CD/audio player. So it has some merit!)

But this time my highly sophisticated strategy failed me for most of the day. Finally I said to myself, “Maybe I should call Verizon?” DUH! So I did, and lo and behold they told me that there were major router issues in my area, and they were working on it. Whew!

I’m back online, and that’s the good news. The bad news is that now it’s close to midnight and I’m sleepy and way too tired to write a regular Museworthy post. Plus, I have to get up early for Dan Gheno’s painting class in the morning at the National Academy. So I’m going to hit the hay. Just wanted to let you all know that I’m still here, and I missed you!