Up In Arms

I am keenly aware when I’m modeling that I have posing “tendencies”. I don’t try to fight it or anything. I just know that I make certain moves, gestures, and physical motions on a fairly regular basis. We all move uniquely. We all have mannerisms. Our bodies strike positions that come naturally to us and that we employ, unconsciously in some instances, to express ourselves and our physicality. A crowded dance floor is a good place to observe this phenomenon. An art model stand is even better.

Like most models, I have a couple of signature moves in my “repertoire” that recur often when I pose. One of them is raising both arms to my head. Then I either grab my hair and interlace it in my fingers, or just clasp at the wrists and rest them on my head. I tend to do this especially when doing standing poses, such as in this watercolor by Jordan Mejias. Now there are a few reasons for this. One is that it elongates the torso, and that action reveals the anatomy a little more, specifically the rib cage. Another reason is that standing poses generally don’t offer much in the way of negative space. If the arms are up near the head with elbows bent, it creates little triangles of negative space which artists enjoy. The last reason – and definitely the least thoughtful – is that I have a tendency to do it. It’s as simple as that. My body just has a predilection for it. I do it. It happens. And since I’m the model I guess that’s as good a reason as any

This painting by the Swiss artist and printmaker Felix Vallotton is an excellent example of the “arms raised to the head” move. It looks great. From 1906, Nude Woman Looking Into A Psyche:

Gustave Courbet’s Woman in the Waves:

I’m glad to know I’m not the only model who plays with her hair, although this lady’s silky mane is much longer than mine, and probably more manageable! William Adolphe-Bouguereau’s Bather from 1870:

Lifting the arms clearly adds interest to a vertical torso shape. But the gesture can also bring a lot to a reclined pose. I did it (with just one arm) in the photo that is posted on my About page. It looks equally interesting in this painting, Ariadne by John William Waterhouse. See how it makes the pose a touch more “active”? Your eye goes right to those arms:

Female Nude Reclining On a Divan, by Eugene Delacroix:

The “arms raised to the head” move is particularly well-suited to figurative sculpture, bringing more angles, jutting forms, and protrusions to this mesmerizing three-dimensional art form. (Always walk around a sculpture to take in its full breadth and depth). I took this picture of Rodin’s Awakening on my trip to the Philadelphia museums last month:

And this is . . . guess who? Yes it’s me, doing the “arms raised to the head” move, photographed by my great friend and collaborator Fred Hatt:

Midweek Muddle

Is “midweek” one word like that or is it “mid-week”? Ah, who cares. I’m muddled. Bleary. Totally bleary. BLEEEEEEAAAAARRY! I don’t understand. On paper this week looked manageable and “moderate” on the busy scale. But somehow it has morphed into hecticness. Hecticness? Hecticity? Ok, I don’t think there’s a noun form of hectic. And once again, who cares

It’s not just work. It’s a combination of work and other crap to do that seemed to get piled on all at once. Late bills. Modeling booking confusions that had to get cleared up. Going to my mother’s house. A stubbornly clogged drain this morning only added to the aggravation.

Blah, blah, blah, blah . . . . what time is it? Oh great. It’s after 1:00 AM. And I have to work tomorrow on the west side AND another big snowfall is supposedly on the way. Isn’t that just terrific? Blooooo, bloooo, babababababaabaaa . . . . grrr.

I’m thinking this post is profoundly stupid. Can something be “profoundly” stupid or is that an oxymoron? Again . . . who cares! I think I’ll just finish up my wedge of dark chocolate and then go to bed. A deep, calm, restful night’s sleep would be awesome, but I’m so dazed, addled, overtired, and a bit stressed. Given those conditions I don’t think I’ll sleep like a baby, but more like the woman in this Picasso painting. No offense to Picasso, but that sucks

Girl On a Pillow, 1936:

This will pass. It’s no big deal. Just one of those weeks. I will be back very soon, Thinking clearly, I hope!

Lute Song

Welcome all! This is “Music Monday” for February 22nd

Were it not for the New York Times crossword puzzle, I would give no thought whatsoever to the word “lute” or the instrument for which it is named. “Lute” is a common clue answer in the puzzle, and writing it in its designated four boxes has been the extent of my attention, I’m ashamed to say. The lute, however, is much more than a four-letter crossword puzzle clue. It boasts a long, complex history in the evolution of stringed instruments over millennia. The magnificent lute has taken many, many journeys- geographical, physical and musical.

Johannes Vermeer’s Woman with a Lute Near a Window:

Angel in Red With Lute, by Leonardo da Vinci:

The lute has made its way from ancient Egypt, North Africa and Arabia, to the Middle East and the Mediterranean, to the Balkans, and Europe. It has evolved from a long-necked instrument to a short-necked one, from a construction of animal skin to one carved of wood, from plucking with a quill to plucking with fingertips, from an earlier elongated body shape to a rounded one. Like an intelligent creature of Darwinian adaptability, the lute has spent centuries transforming and refashioning itself to various societies and eras, accommodating changing musical tastes and necessities. From Renaissance to Baroque to Classical, from king’s courts to village squares, in the hands of amateurs and professionals, townspeople and peasants and city dwellers, the lute has lent its delicate stringed sounds to virtually every country, culture, and ethnicity on earth. Where there was music, there was lute.

Most music lovers, myself included, are engaged in a collective love affair with the six-string guitar. But lute strings, along with its other physical features, are more distinct and reflect its uniquely sophisticated and refined musicality. Lute strings are arranged in “courses” or, simply, pairs. The highest pitched course is usually a single string called a “chanterelle”, but the others are doubled. So for example, an “eight course” Renaissance lute will have a total of 15 strings; the single chanterelle, plus seven pairs (14). Other distinguishing features of the lute are the pegbox, bent sharply backward almost at a right angle to the neck, and the sound hole which is not an open hole like in a guitar, but carved directly out of the wood and covered with an ornate, decorative grille design.

A Renaissance-style lute:

From Bach Lute Works, Volume 1, this is lutenist Paul O’Dette performing a very beautiful Sonata in G Minor, BWV 1001, IV, Presto:

Thomas Wilmer Dewing’s Lady With a Lute:

If this next painting is any indication, it seems that lute players may have been the rock stars of their day. I burst out laughing when I first saw this, and thought “This is definitely going in the blog post!”. What a debauched, lascivious scene! A lute player and his groupie. By Hendrick Terbrugghen, A Luteplayer Carousing With a Young Woman Holding a Roemer. I’m betting this guy got lucky. What do you think?

We Armenians, and our fellow middle easterners, play a lute relative called the “oud”. I heard plenty of oud growing up, and the instrument shares many similarities with the European versions of the lute, as they likely evolved from a common instrumental ancestor. Although I’m not a huge fan of traditional Armenian music, I must admit that the oud is an exception, in my opinion. I’ve heard some phenomenal Armenian oud players jam on that thing! The late George Mgrdichian was one one of the all time greats, if not the greatest.

From the 19th century Croatian painter Vjekoslav Karas, this is Roman Lady With a Lute:

When I was searching art images for this post, I discovered that a vast majority of them featured a female sitter. A good 80%. I’m thinking that the reason is because the lute’s form – roundish, pear-shaped, with full curvy lines – is more feminine in its contours. Therefore it looks very nice when a woman is holding it.

Woman Playing a Lute, 1520, by Bartolomeo Veneto:

More superb lute technique, this time from Robert Barto. Here he is performing Silvius Leopold Weiss’ Lute Sonata No. 45 in A major: VI:

The next time I encounter a four letter word for “stringed instrument” in a crossword puzzle, I will pay proper respect before I scribble it in. And I will recall this passage from The Lute Society website:

Above all, it was the lute’s ravishing sound which made it so admired. While the essential design of the instrument (six pairs of strings tuned in fourths, with a third in the middle) is similar to that of the modern guitar, the sound is very different: low-tension gut-stringing and the peculiar resonance of its pear-shaped body give the sound of the lute a delicacy and richness which cannot be matched by its brash modern cousin. In a sense it is an instrument closer to nature than the modern guitar.

“closer to nature”. I like that.

The Lute Player by Caravaggio, 1596:

Pet Commandments

My mother’s friend Karla, who is coping with the gradual health deterioration of her beloved 16 year old dachshund Sparky, sent out this wonderful email. I’m sure it is giving her some comfort as she prepares for the inevitable. Since many of my readers are pet owners/animal lovers, I thought I’d share Karla’s mailing here – the pet commandments. I was sobbing by the end of it

A Pet’s Ten Commandments:

1. My life is likely to last 10-15 years. Any separation from you is likely to be painful.

2. Give me time to understand what you want of me.

3. Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well-being.

4. Don’t be angry with me for long and don’t lock me up as punishment. You have your work, your friends, your entertainment, but I have only you.

5. Talk to me. Even if I don’t understand your words, I do understand your voice when speaking to me.

6. Be aware that however you treat me, I will never forget it.

7. Before you hit me, before you strike me, remember that I could hurt you, and yet, I choose not to bite you.

8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I’m not getting the right food, I have been in the sun too long, or my heart might be getting old or weak.

9. Please take care of me when I grow old. You too, will grow old.

10. On the ultimate difficult journey, go with me please… Never say you can’t bear to watch. Don’t make me face this alone. Everything is easier for me if you are there, because I love you so.

An extraordinary piece of writing that was of great comfort to me when our family dog Gracie passed away was Eugene O’Neill’s “Last Will and Testament of an Extremely Distinguished Dog”. He wrote it upon the death of his dog, Blemie. Another tearjerker.

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.”

- Anatole France

Frida Kahlo hugging her dog:

Have a terrific weekend, everyone. And I’ll see you back here for the first installment of “Music Mondays”!

Claudia

Carnival

So all the pre-Lent festivities have ended. Yesterday was Fat Tuesday and the city of New Orleans partied and caroused like only New Orleans can. And Rio is wrapping up its dazzling annual carnival celebration. I saw some pictures from it online and wow was it ever colorful, exuberant, and lively! Fabulously and unabashedly over-the-top. That’s Rio for you. Now if only they could do us a huge favor and keep Paris Hilton. Dear Brazil . . . you can have her. Please don’t send her back! Please?

I may be a day late with my mardi gras posting, but I see no reason why we can’t keep the spirit of mardi gras alive here on Museworthy. Let’s extend it a little longer, shall we?

This pencil and gouache work was created by my friend Kathi Kirkpatrick at a private art session in Westchester, NY. Also in attendance were my dear friend Damian and our friend and hostess Wilma. We had the loveliest time together That’s me reclining odalisque-style, rocking a blue mask with feathers and sparkly sequins. I wish everyone could see this piece up close in real life because Kathi, whose fanciful, artistic imagination never ceases to amaze, achieved incredible detail on my eyes and the mask itself. Happy Mardi Gras, everyone!

Introducing Music Mondays

Helloo, helloooo!! How is everyone? I’m just fine and dandy. Slept late because I attended the Spring Studio 18th Anniversary Party last night and imbibed a little red vino. I had a great time, as always, socializing with my artist friends, fellow models, all wonderful people with whom I share both personal and professional relationships. And congratulations to Minerva Durham for 18 awesome years, providing a place for life drawing to New Yorkers seven days a week. I often wonder what many of us would do without Minerva and her steadfast drawing studio. I think we’d be sad

Now on to other business. I’d like to introduce a new blog feature that I’m calling “Music Mondays”. I was going to call it “Museworthy Music Mondays” but that might trigger an alliteration OD. I think two M’s are enough! So Music Mondays will be just what they describe; every Monday I will put up a post with a music theme and an image of music in art, of which there are so many to choose from. Topics will vary from instruments, music genres, famous figures, and my commentary will include personal stories, music history, or just discussion of a painting or drawing with a musical subject. Good idea, everyone? I hope you like it.

Just as a world without art would be a miserable place, a world without music would be equally miserable. Could you imagine? A world without art OR music? Ugh. That sounds truly awful. Dreary, uninspired, boring as all hell. Also, some of you might remember that my father was a musician, and my brother is a composer. So music is, and always has been, a significant presence in my life, both as an appreciator and participant. I studied piano for eight years in my youth, and achieved a level where I played a pretty mean Chopin, if I may say so

So for now, I just have an image to kick off the debut of “Music Mondays”. I hope the upcoming weekly entries will be fun and enjoyable for all of us!

Gustav Klimt’s Music, from 1895:

Alvy and Annie

I couldn’t decide whether to acknowledge Valentine’s Day with a blog post or just ignore the whole trite, commercial, superficial, fabricated “holiday” altogether. I knew I wasn’t going to search through and select a group of sentimental love-themed artworks and post them here, that’s for damn sure. We don’t do clichés here at Museworthy, no we don’t.

So I thought about this Valentine’s Day situation for a while as it relates to my life. I am not currently in love with anyone. But I have been in love a few times in my 41 years. And each time it was deep and true, heady and exasperating, tender, maddening, exhilarating, and painful. Often simultaneously! Yeah it’s crazy. Worth it, but crazy all the same.

The idiotic thing about Valentine’s Day is the notion that chocolates and Hallmark cards are symbols of love. Or proof of devotion. Or that they represent anything about romantic relationships whatsoever. Of course they don’t. I think we all know that.

So before I drag out my thoughts and ramblings, as I’m prone to do, I will just get to my video selection. It’s a scene from the movie “Annie Hall” that I think bears some resemblance to relationships I’ve experienced: ruses mixed with sincerity, sweetness mixed with sarcasm, affection peppered with suspicion, alternately humorous and serious, held together with a bond, an intimate need that both comforts and terrifies. Diane Keaton is at her most adorable and endearing. As Annie, she employs the damsel-in-distress method of getting Alvy over to her place after they’ve been broken up for a while. Alvy, who is still not over her, comes right over.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone

Ensconced

From the FIT website:

Weather Update
Due to a severe storm the college will be closed on Wednesday, February 10, and all classes and activities are cancelled.

And where was I scheduled to work all day today? You guessed it. FIT. Ah well, it happens. Funny, though, I was really in the mood to model! Felt my posing groove on and was ready to rumble. I was booked for two classes there back-to-back, and now :poof!:, they’re gone, cancelled, disintegrated into the blustery, snowy winter ether.

So I’ll make the best of it, of course. Right now I’m toasty warm, ensconced in my house, watching thick, fat snowflakes fall down from the white sky. On our Queens street, we are blanketed baby! It looks very beautiful. I might bundle up and go outside to take some pictures. But it’s pretty cold, so “might” is the operative word there

Just a quick note before I log off. The brand new Winter 2010 issue of American Artist Drawing magazine has a terrific article on my dear friend Jean Marcellino entitled “Making Quick Progress with a Confident Hand”. It was written by Bob Bahr, and features a marvelous, informative step-by-step drawing demo that follows Jean’s development of a figure drawing. I am honored to say that I am the model for the demo Yep, that’s me in the picture. I hope everyone checks it out.

See you all soon. I’ll leave you with an image for the day. This is Reclining Nude by Edward Hopper:

Succulents and Football

Over the weekend, on Sunday to be exact, when most Americans were in the stores purchasing cases of beer, bags of chips, tubs of guacamole, and firing up their big screen TVs for the Super Bowl festivities, I was at my local garden center buying houseplants :listens while everybody laughs: Ok, so I’m a dork. I admit it. I get excited about houseplants, specifically cacti and succulents. They are my weakness. I feel connected to them more than I do to other plants, but I don’t want to delve into some psychological examination as to why, as in why would I be attracted to fleshy, warm weather water-retainers with thick skin? Let’s not go there. Let’s just say I like them and leave it at that

So during my leisurely Sunday drive around the neighborhood, my car just sort of steered itself into the parking lot of the garden center. When I entered the greenhouse, an overwhelming feeling of euphoria washed over me . . . aaaah . . . Xanadu! I walked out with these two beauties:

And then there’s my pride and joy, my homegirl, my gem which I’ve lovingly cared for for years now. A rockin’ aloe plant that has produced two little babies. The guy at the garden center advised me not to transplant into a larger pot until the spring, to which I responded, “but the roots may be suffocating!!”. He calmly assured me it would be fine, and that succulents are hardy, tough and tolerant plants that can handle “abuse”. No wonder I respect them so much.

For the record, I did watch the Super Bowl, I did eat guacamole, I did drink a beer, and I did root heartily for New Orleans. So am I cool now? Or am I still a plant dork?

Intermezzo

traveling, underground, getting here getting there
on the rails
urban noise and dust and grime
rolling, rattling, buzzing, phone yammering
footsteps and concrete
out of my clothes in front of their eyes
chilly and hot
tired and feisty
my skin, my muscle, my hair . . . mussed
I tossed it
and pulled it
and flipped it
yeah, watch this! Take that, darlings . . .
thinking, eyeballing . . . I’m telling you something
showing you something
my secrets
don’t you see?
later . . .
the man in my life. young. strong.
kisses my collarbone
abundant smiles
sensations and premonitions and vibey vibes
days of riddles and surges and fears and thrills
I want fruit

“Claudia” by Jordan Mejias. February 2010:

The Enchanted Garden

A funny thing happened on the way to my blog post. I came upon a work of art that was unrelated to my planned piece, and it completely captured my imagination. “Ooooh! What’s this? So pretty!”, I thought. I knew there had to be a story behind this scene, and indeed there was. So I’m going to bump my original post so I can share this one with you. It’s so romantic!!!

The painting is by the Pre-Raphaelite artist and model Marie Spartali Stillman, and is inspired by one of the tales from Boccaccio’s medieval literary masterpiece The Decameron. The young man Ansaldo falls madly in love with Dianora, a married woman. He pursues and pursues, only to be rebuffed. Dianora doesn’t take him seriously. However, she promises Ansaldo that she will leave her husband for him and become his lover if he successfully performs one task. She deliberately chooses an impossible task that she knows Ansaldo cannot accomplish so he will go away and leave her alone. She thought she was being clever, you see. And apparently even in the Middle Ages, people were into head games. So Dianora asks Ansaldo to create a lush blooming garden of fruits and flowers, even though it is January, the dead of winter. She assumes she’s off the hook.

Well there’s no stopping a man in love. Ansaldo enlists the services of a sorcerer, and offers to pay him a large sum of money to produce the garden. After it is created, Ansaldo has baskets of beautiful spring flowers and ripe fruits sent to Dianora’s house. She is shocked! How the hell did he do it? It wasn’t possible! So with her friends and children from the neighborhood, Dianora ventures over to see the garden.

Here’s the scene depicted in Stillman’s painting, The Enchanted Garden of Messer Ansaldo, from 1889. You can see the wintry reality through the arches in the background:

Isn’t that like the most romantic thing ever??? I love it! I totally love it. No man has ever given me a garden! A guy gave me a beer stein once, but never a garden

Dianora’s reaction, however, was not to run swooning and giddy into the arms of her persistent, lovelorn admirer. Rather, she was dismayed and quite horrified at these turn of events. Because, well, she was just . . sort of . . . kind of . . . messing with the guy. And yet, Ansaldo produces the garden, totally calling her bluff. Sweet!

John William Waterhouse also took on this story from The Decameron. This is his 1916 version, The Enchanted Garden. In this one, Dianora, on the left in pink, looks really pissed!

I’d like to take this opportunity to make an announcement: to all the the men out there, if you can create an enchanted garden just for me, with roses, wisteria and hyacinths, peach trees, strawberries and green grapes, in the middle of winter, you can have my undying love and devotion. That’s a promise!