Happy 9th Birthday Museworthy!!

1. a regularly updated website or web page, typically one run by an individual or small group, that is written in an informal or conversational style.

How do you all feel about that definition? I think it’s a little “meh”, as the kids today would say. So as a blogger for nine years I believe I can expand – perhaps rewrite – that description just a bit. A “blog” is a corner of the internet where an individual can share and communicate their otherwise ignored voice, and be discovered by anyone who might seek out such a voice. A “blog” is an intimate platform where discussion, learning, documenting and diversion work joyfully hand in hand. A “blog” is a place where people from distant places around the globe can connect who would otherwise never have connected. I could go on, but I think you get the picture.

Fred Hatt, photographer extraordinaire and my beautiful, steadfast friend, deserves special commendation this year for calmly persevering through our photo session in which I was, admittedly, difficult. Not *acting like a diva bitch* difficult but *moody and sullen* difficult. Couldn’t find my mojo. Couldn’t clear my head of all my nagging emotional turmoil. But after a few hours (and a couple of glasses of wine) we managed to pull this shot out of many misfires. The body language speaks for itself. Thank you Fred, for your patience and kindness, as always ..


Now, as I always do in these anniversary posts, I must express my deepest, humblest, sincerest thanks to all my readers; from the die-hard regulars (where would I be without you guys?) to the occasional drop-ins (always great to have you!) to the recent new subscribers (welcome!), ALL of you, thank you for your visits, your comments, your emails … thank you for finding points of interest in my chosen topics, my art modeling profession, my pictures, stories, and even my personal tribulations. Thank you for everything. I extend a heartfelt invitation to each of you to stick around for year ten🙂

And now it’s song time! My fondness for late 60s blues-inspired British rock remains my default preference, so I’m going full on Jeff Beck Group this year. That’s the young Rod Stewart doing his trademark raunchy, raspy vocals. From Jeff Beck’s debut album Truth, released in 1968 – the year I was born – this is “Let Me Love You”. Enjoy! And again, thank you all …

Your muse,

Hail Jupiter

I hadn’t planned to post a Music Monday this week. Right now it’s 10:30 PM New York time and I’ve decided to squeeze one in just under the wire because of a video I came across on Classic fm, a UK-based classical music site I visit from time to time. In the post, “The awe-inspiring counterpoint in Mozart’s final symphony”, musicologist Richard Atkinson provides an analysis of the symphony’s breathtaking and majestic finale. The symphony, No 41, is known as the “Jupiter” symphony, and it was Mozart’s last and longest. The Jupiter is universally adored and held in the highest esteem as one of the greatest symphonic works ever composed. It’s hard to argue with that status, which is probably why nobody ever does.

I have blogged about Mozart previously. That post touched upon a particular aspect of his genius. The video below illustrates the actual complex workmanship that Mozart employed. Atkinson uses the language of music theory to show us precisely how Mozart achieved the brilliant musical effects he did, with a nuts-and-bolts breakdown. He also uses color coding to highlight the recurrent themes and motifs which I found helpful. Back in my piano studying days my teacher would give me worksheets in music theory, and the more advanced they became the more confused I got! Challenging for mere mortals like me, but simple oxygen for Mozart. But I do love the vocabulary of music theory: counterpoint, intervals, triads.

The Jupiter symphony is a piece that, when you listen to it, you want to shout, “Go Wolfgang, go!! Yeah!!“. Pure joy. Pure uplift. The gleaming musical diamond atop the canon of Western civilization.

I know my fellow classical music geeks will appreciate this. And I also think everyone can enjoy the feeling of underachieving slackerdom and inferiority that comes when exposed to Mozart’s genius. Just kidding! I kid😉


For those less inclined to classical music deconstruction, something else from Classic fm – a doodle by Mozart on his music sheet. The lovely lady was his pupil, Barbara Ployer. I wonder if Mozart taught her any counterpoint?


Rocking the Stairway

“There’s only so many notes on a f*cking guitar!”. Those are the eloquent words of one Ozzy Osbourne, when asked his opinion about the recent legal victory for Led Zeppelin. As you may have heard, Jimmy Page and Robert Plant were hauled into a Los Angeles courtroom for a plagiarism suit brought by the estate of Randy Wolfe of the American band Spirit. The suit alleged that Led Zeppelin stole from Wolfe the iconic opening guitar chords of Zep’s famous epic song “Stairway to Heaven”As many people predicted, Led Zeppelin was exonerated.

If you crave more of Ozzy’s assessment of this matter go to this Rolling Stone article to read the rest of his profanity-laced interview😆

Also, I blogged about this topic – Led Zeppelin and their copyright infringement issues – in a Museworthy post from 2014 for anyone who might be interested.

A reminder to everyone that submissions are open for the Museworthy Portraits and Pets art show. I haven’t set a date for the show yet so of course you still have time. But do feel free to send your piece whenever you’re ready. Everyone is welcome to participate! I’m still working on mine🙂

I’ll be back very soon with another blog post. In the meantime, here is Led Zeppelin, in their prime, performing “Stairway to Heaven” live. Robert Plant is in full “golden god” glory, and Jimmy Page is pure rock and roll. Around 9:52 is my favorite part. For Music Monday:

Sing for Hope

For two weeks in the spring, the five boroughs of New York City are treated to a delightful public art project sponsored by Sing for Hope, a non-profit organization committed to bringing the arts to the public, particularly to those segments most in need. Arts education in public schools is a cause near and dear to my heart, having been raised in a family of artists and musicians. The Sing for Hope Pianos installation places fifty one-of-a-kind pianos all painted by local artists, in a communal space -usually a park or plaza – for the public to freely enjoy. After the two weeks, the pianos are then placed in permanent homes in schools, healthcare facilities, and community centers around the city. Absolutely wonderful. Sing for Hope was conceived and founded by arts advocates Monica Yunus and Camille Zamora, both opera singers and alumni of New York’s renowned Julliard School.

So when I drove over to the Queens County Farm last week to check out the early seasonal pickings from the farm stand, I checked out its Sing for Hope piano, which looked lovely against the historic farmhouse. This piano, called “The Wayside Rose”, was created by Brooklyn-based artist/printmaker Jamie Wilen, and I share my photo here for Music Monday:


The piano was also just a few feet away from the farm’s herb garden, which is already thriving! (Too early for tomatoes, but they’re worth the wait.)


I’ve gained quite a few new blog followers over the past few weeks. To all of you, thank you and welcome! I’d like to share two older posts that relate somewhat to this one: a Music Monday that I dedicated to my childhood piano teacher and a post from last summer inspired by the Queens Farm.

It’s unlikely that any of the passersby sat down and performed concert soloist-level virtuosity on the Sing for Hope pianos on their lunch breaks … but hey, you never know! We’ll conclude our Music Monday with the mind-blowing excellence of my favorite pianist, Vladimir Ashkenazy. This is him playing the third movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No: 23 “Appassionata”. Folks, it’s insane. I don’t know what Beethoven was thinking apart from his usual genius self, but this is something that for anyone other than a professional concert pianist is pretty much unplayable. Ashkenazy sounds like he has two sets of hands. A sublimely gifted and expressive musician. The final two minutes of this is simply riveting. Enjoy, and have a great week everyone!🙂

The Garden, 1986

Have you ever sat third row/center at a concert? I did, once. When you’re accustomed to seeing your favorite bands from the nosebleed seats a football field-length away from the action, the third row is an experience like nothing else. Exactly how my friend Faby and I managed to snag such prime seats for the Prince concert at Madison Square Garden in the summer of 1986, I honestly can’t recall. But I can tell you it wasn’t through the box office😉

How can I describe that night seeing Prince perform live? Mesmerizing. Groovy sounds and glittering lights. A rush of adrenaline and shocks of electricity. Shiny instruments, colored smoke, thumping rhythms and sumptuous vocals. Prince’s female bandmates riffing, soloing, being utter badasses. Satin and lace. Funk and psychedelic. A legendary arena packed to the brim with the most diverse crowd of concert-goers I’ve ever seen; 15 year olds and 40 year olds, a Brooklyn Italian guy over here, a Bronx Puerto Rican woman over there. A Manhattan East Side professional, and a gaggle of girls from Long Island. Good kids and troublemakers. City and suburban. Screaming, perspiring, standing on seats and singing along with the lyrics. Prince was, in a word, spellbinding.  A 5’2″ dynamo of talent, charisma, and originality. 


But allow me to share the single most unforgettable detail of that night, one that I can easily replay in my mind like five frames of a film reel because, when you’re 18 years old, this kind of thing burns an indelible imprint in your memory, along with the thrills and chills that accompany it. Prince was dancing at edge of the stage. Faby and I, like I mentioned before, were in the third row. Prince was right there … so damn close it felt like if I had stood on the back of my chair I could launch right into him with one full throttle leap. The fabric of his jacket, the scarves, boots … right there .. right in front us. And then, on the downbeat of the music, he froze for two seconds .. and made eye-contact with me .. and smiled … and … WINKED!!!!! Yes!!! YES HE DID!! Faby turned to me, her mouth wide open, and the teenage girl-screams came forth in crazy shrieks. “Prince winked at you!!! Did you see that??!! Oh my God!!!!!!!”. Thirty years later I can still see it, vividly – Prince’s big brown eye looking directly into mine. Annnnndd … W I N K !!!!! It’s my giddy, cherished memory, and no one can take it away from me.

Lest you think that Prince was an indiscriminate winker, I was wearing a purple halter top with my boobs half hanging out, and huge dangly earrings, and 25 bracelets going up my forearm, and waving my hands in the air and blowing him overt kisses all night long. So I’m fairly comfortable saying that I :ahem: got his attention. Mission: accomplished😉


When the news broke of Prince’s death, my Mom sent me a text: “Awful news about Prince. I know you loved him from the very beginning”. Mom is right, because “very beginning” for fans like me means pre-Purple Rain. When his fame blew up and hit the mainstream, we weren’t the least bit surprised. We had recognized his talents.

In the midst of all the “grief porn” flooding the Internet, and the pretentious “thinkpieces” being penned by “cultural critics” (or whatever we’re supposed to call these people) let’s have a different take and consider the impressive state of Prince’s life when he left us at the age of 57. He died having the staunch respect and admiration of his musical peers and colleagues. He died having the loyalty of his faithful, devoted fans. He died having found spiritual enlightenment and religious awakening. And, after the epic legal battle he waged against his record company Warner Bros, he died owning his own masters – no small feat in the notoriously rapacious music business. Although fiercely private, Prince revealed himself in the way all true artists do – through his art. Over the course of his long career, we witnessed him evolve from a raunchy, seductive lothario to a teetotaling Jehovah’s Witness, metamorphosing through the personal stages of his life with the same mastery and imagination with which he navigated all styles of music. And he remained, always, a consummate musician, prolific producer, arranger, performer and songwriter. Influential. Inventive. Enigmatic. Often mystifying. We know we won’t see the likes of Prince anytime soon, if ever.

Special condolences should be expressed, by all Prince fans, to the people in and around the Minneapolis area. They lost a fellow Minnesotan, a native son, a neighbor, a supporter of the community and its music scene. When celebrities reach Prince’s level of fame and success, many of them move to a mansion in Beverly Hills, a beach house in Malibu, or a penthouse in New York. But Prince stayed right where he came from.

And no there’s nothing wrong with your tablet or your computer …. this blog post is written in purple font. Your eyes don’t deceive you! Now you probably think it isn’t possible to “out-cool” Lenny Kravitz, but here’s Prince doing just that. (Sorry Lenny). Watch him shred at 4:47. This is Music Monday. Rest in Peace, purple one … and thanks for the wink😉

Rock Model

I rarely have the opportunity to merge the topic of art modeling with a Music Monday post. Actually, I don’t think it’s ever happened. But a little art world item that came up last week fits the bill perfectly, and I couldn’t resist sharing it here. Rock icon and punk pioneer Iggy Pop posed nude for a life drawing class at the New York Academy of Art. Yes.. Iggy Pop. And the drawings produced during that session will be on view at the Brooklyn Museum in the fall. I got such a kick out of the story, and my initial reaction was, “Yeah! You go Iggy!!” Then, I was completely won over when Iggy posted this perfectly succinct tweet to his Twitter account:

Going fully nude isn’t exactly a daring stretch for Iggy Pop since he hasn’t worn a shirt since … 1972? And we all know that flamboyant shirtless rock stars possess the requisite exhibitionist tendencies involved in nude art modeling. Iggy Pop is 68 years old now. After a lifetime in rock and roll, his body has endured much “wear and tear”, but that’s just fine for artists. Remember, models for art classes are life models – individuals who bring their lives, through their physicality and presence, to others who seek to create, explore, and glorify their fellow human beings. Iggy Pop has experienced a lot over many decades. It took him 68 years to make it to “art model”. Better late than never. Welcome to the club,  Iggy🙂

So you want some more Iggy? Ok, I’ll give you some more Iggy … that is James Osterberg from Muskegon, Michigan. Here he is in his younger and more flexible days, with The Stooges. This is “Hey, Peter”:

Goodbye Bowie

Never imagined having to post something like this for Music Monday. But David Bowie has left us. He was only 69. Sitting here at 2:30 in the morning, I’m at a loss for words. It seems he was battling cancer for many months and kept it a secret. The words “icon” and “legend” are thrown around indiscriminately these days, but in Bowie’s case they are truly applicable. I’ve been a Bowie fan for as long as I can remember. To blend rock and roll, art, and theater – and do it effectively – is not an undertaking for the mediocre or the uninspired. David Bowie could do it. Personally, I liked Bowie the best when he presented himself as a straight-up singer and rocker, and I chose our video accordingly. He really had a great voice. And a great presence. Also, David Bowie was an art aficionado and collector. Here is an interview with him in which he discusses his art tastes and passions.

Rest in Peace David.