“He who contemplates the depths of Paris is seized with vertigo.
Nothing is more fantastic. Nothing is more tragic.
Nothing is more sublime.”
– Victor Hugo

St. Genevieve (patron saint of Paris) makes confidence and calm to frightened Parisians of the approach of Attila, by Pierre Puvis de Chavannes:


Ahoy Buccaneer

“Are you a real pirate??!!”. That was the adorable question posed to me by one of the kids in Martha Bloom’s Art and Drama class for children ages 5 – 9 at the National Academy. The little girl’s inquiry was perfectly reasonable since I had already changed into my pirate costume :-) Children’s art classes certainly don’t make up the bulk of an art model’s booking schedule, but on the occasions when we do pose for the little ones it’s a welcome departure from the adult classes. No offense grown-ups, but kids are more fun!

Martha Bloom has been fostering the imaginations and creative spirits of New York City’s children for over three decades. Her classes are the starting points for the superb young artists’ education offered at the National Academy. With the help of goodies from the prop closet, Martha set up a makeshift mast for my pirate boat and put a treasure chest at my feet, with a rubber rat crawling out. “Blimey! Thar be a rat in me booty chest! Walk the plank ye little scalawag!!”

As the late afternoon sun streamed into the National Academy’s elegant Stone Room, the children set up their markers, crayons, and papers. Martha took this photo of me during the pose.“Ayyee aye matey! I am a pirate wench!! Give me a bottle o grog and we be swashbucklin’ three sheets to the wind!”


This is Sasha’s drawing:


And this is Eliza’s drawing:


The class Halloween show was just around the corner, and Gemma was assigned the task of designing the invitation. She created this excellent illustration:


We went down to the office and made copies, which came out great. And a poster to go along with them.


At the end of class, when I emerged from behind the changing screen dressed in my street clothes, Gemma exclaimed “You’re NOT a real pirate!!”. I think it was my NY Mets shirt that gave me away :lol:

But Ratty the rubber rat managed to get over to the window of the Stone Room. Unless someone carried him over there … a pirate wench perhaps? Hmm …
The last time I saw him he was taking in the view of East 89th Street, gazing at the Guggenheim:


A Wing and a Prayer

As a professional art model in New York City one of my biggest fears has always been that some misfortune would befall Spring Studio, our town’s singular life drawing studio for artists of all skill levels and my absolute favorite venue in which to pose. Sadly, that day has come. Minerva Durham, Spring Studio’s founder and director, is being ousted from her space at 64 Spring Street. Why? You can probably guess why, using the words “landlord”, “market value”, “rent”, and “real estate”, not to mention the very nature of this city, its strenuous commitment to shift and transform, and its myriad David vs Goliath battles among businesses and residents with divergent interests. Here is the NY Times article about the Spring Studio situation: “SoHo Artist’s Studio, a Space Detached From Time, Is Forced to Move”. Now I don’t want to jinx anything and write about a possible new space for the studio. But if anyone has the resilience and the determination to keep their passion alive, it’s Minerva. So we’ll just leave it at that. In the meantime I, and everyone else who cherishes Spring Studio, will be keeping our fingers crossed.

On a less depressing note, my New York Mets are 1/3 of the way into a rollicking postseason run, and we diehard fans are loving every minute of it! Except for the stressful, feel-like-you’re-gonna-have-a-heart-attack parts, but hey that’s the price you pay for being in the playoffs :-) But I take nothing for granted. All the teams are formidable and they all want to win. It’s all magic and mayhem, fastballs and breaking balls, diving catches and stolen bases and utterly deranged fans!

So as of now I’m praying for my very dear friend and mentor Minerva Durham, and my beloved NY Mets. May they both survive and prevail and continue to bring joy to those who love them.

Prayer, by Kazimir Malevich. Tempera on wood, 1907:


Art Around Town

Well hello there friends! It wasn’t my intention to go so long without a new blog post. I’ve just been completing a long sculpture pose at Grand Central Atelier and then jumped right into a weekend workshop with Max Ginsburg. So it’s been modeling duties, and the resulting body rest, that have occupied me for the past several days. I was worried that pilates class on Monday would be agonizing, but it wasn’t! Felt really good actually. My spine was grateful :-)

My good friend Francisco Malonzo shared something with me that I’d like to share with all of you. It reminded me that artists and models can appreciate the same experience of seeing artwork on the wall – artists delight at seeing their creation on display, and we models delight at seeing ourselves on display. A collector here in NYC took pictures of Francisco’s pieces in his Upper West Side apartment and they’re wonderful to see. A portrait of me is among the collection. You can view them on Francisco’s blog. Francisco’s dazzling work has appeared on Museworthy several times over the years. You can view previous posts here and here .

Also, I thought I’d share a photo from the sculpture class at Grand Central Atelier. It was a terrific gig with a lovely small class. I did a standing pose, which is fairly common for sculpture, and it was well worth it as you can see in this impressive work by fourth year student Charlie Mostow:


Lastly, in keeping with three-dimensional creations, a photo I took last night at a gathering at the Armenian Diocese here in New York, where a new sculpture was unveiled to commemorate the centennial of the Armenian Genocide. Michael Aram designed this stainless steel work called “Migrations”, and on a beautiful moonlit October evening in the city, clergy members, artists, and Armenian New Yorkers were deeply moved by the dedication of this piece. My phone pic is okay but you can see it more clearly at Architectural Digest with an accompanying article.


That’s all for now, friends. I’ll see you soon!

Happy 8th Birthday Museworthy!!

An artist’s model with poise and stamina can work steadily throughout the year. An artist’s model with a thirst for writing, conversation, and self-expression can also blog steadily, for several years. Today on Museworthy, we commemorate eight years of the good stuff – 815 posts, 7,534 comments, 760 subscribers, 1,485,773 hits. Abundant and sincere thanks to all of you who read regularly, or intermittently, and enjoy your visits to my little corner of the Internet.

Our annual tradition continues, of course, with a photo of yours truly taken by my dear friend, the one and only Fred Hatt – the only person on earth who photographs me in my birthday suit. But there’s something different about this year’s photo. In the previous ones – all seven of them – I was never looking at the camera. Now, after a decade as a professional art model and being stared at by hundreds of pairs of eyes, the model turns the tables … and stares back. Here’s lookin’ at you, kids ;-)

D7K_4164 bw 2 rp crop

Do I have superhero powers of sticking to the ceiling? Or did Fred set up on a ladder above me to take this shot? Hmm. Quite the enigma! Well, click on the photo (it’s a nice large file) and rotate it around. One of those angles is the original.

Museworthy friends, I’ve said it so many times and will continue to say it because it’s the truth. This blog is sustained by you; through your comments, “likes”, Tweets, Facebook shares, feedback, and personal emails, and also by my conscious perception that you’re out there – reading, clicking, subscribing. I had no idea how this blog would evolve when I first started it. In retrospect, I’m immensely grateful that I gave it a go and allowed it to take me, and my beloved readers, on a joyous ride through art, music, and musings. Let’s do it for another year, shall we? And I must include a shoutout to WordPress for providing an excellent blogging platform since day one.

For our blog birthday song, I feel an uncontrollable need to hear Robert Plant’s voice, so here’s some Led Zeppelin. Listen with me, friends. Blessings, love, and light .. to each and every one of you. And from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your readership :-)

Your muse, Claudia



Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature,
That fashions all her works in high relief,
And that is Sculpture. This vast ball, the Earth,
Was moulded out of clay, and baked in fire;
Men, women, and all animals that breathe
Are statues, and not paintings.

– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Grand Central Atelier, sculpture studio:


To my Museworthy friends – have a splendid few days and let’s meet right back here on Thursday for our annual blog celebration. See you then! :-)


Art and the world – the turbulent, disillusioning world – are frequently at odds with each other. Art seeks to convey beauty, or some variant thereof. But the world too often has other plans and instead obscures the beauty with violence, despair, and the fear and hopelessness of terrorized people. Look no further than the current events of today; the heartbreaking photos of desperate migrants and refugee children drowning during passage to safer lands. So what is the inspired artist to do when confronted with horror and chaos? Well, they can imitate life as art often does, something Picasso exemplified masterfully with Guernica. Or they can defiantly push forth with sheer beauty in spite of political and personal turbulence.

It’s hard to imagine what it was like to live in Europe during the Napoleonic Wars. Beethoven was a firsthand witness to much of it, and the great composer found himself and his art roped into the tempestuous atmosphere, unwittingly or otherwise. Like all future tyrants, Napoleon rose to power as a “liberator”; a revolutionary who sought to demolish the aristocracy’s control over the common man and secure rights for all citizens in an egalitarian ideal. An appealing message to be sure. And to the authority-hating Beethoven, who resented class distinctions and roundly rejected the idea that any grown man should bow to another, Napoleon’s message resonated deeply as it did for so many.

Mounted Trumpeters of Napoleon’s Imperial Guard, 1814, Théodore Géricault:


But Beethoven eventually learned a lesson with regard to charismatic political leaders and their promises. After completion of his monumental and miraculous Third Symphony, which he had named the “Bonaparte” in honor of Napoleon, Beethoven was informed that the supposed liberator Napoleon had now declared himself “Emperor” of France. Emperor. Oh dear. Enraged with feelings of betrayal by a figure he had respected and admired, the composer angrily scratched out the dedication on his manuscript’s title page. Beethoven refused to honor with his music a man he now realized “will become a tyrant like all the others” and “think himself superior to all men!”. In a principled, albeit impulsive, gesture Beethoven changed the Bonaparte to “Eroica”. But that was not the end of Beethoven’s irritations with the French megalomaniac.

Napoleon Receiving the Keys of Vienna, by Anne-Louis Girodet:


In the spring of 1809, after Austria had declared war on France, Napoleon’s army laid siege to Vienna. While many had fled before it was too late, Beethoven remained in the city. With his house in the direct line of artillery fire, he relocated to his brother’s house which unfortunately didn’t provide the relief he had hoped, as there was no real escaping the onslaught of Napoleon’s military forces. Holed up in the cellar, the 39 year-old Beethoven was determined to finish composing his Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat major. But the circumstances were harrowing. This was a man who was already enduring the traumatic process of going deaf, with relentless buzzing and ringing and diminished auditory capacity. For a composer of all people, this is pure hell. Now he was being assaulted by the ear-splitting sounds of cannon fire day and night. Beethoven pressed pillows against his ears to block out the din, crouched in corners of the room in anguish, terrified that his already delicate and deteriorating ear drums would be blasted into dead silence .. permanently. And yet somehow, remarkably and incredibly, during and after that war-ravaged spring in Vienna, Beethoven did what brilliant and persevering artists do: he created his work. And boy, was it a doozy. His fifth and final piano concerto. Arguably his best. Although it has come to be called the “Emperor Concerto” that moniker was not Beethoven’s doing. It’s actually something of a cruel irony that the piece has been named as such, given Beethoven’s feelings about the matter.

The death mask of Napoleon. It was cast in May of 1821, two days after Napoleon died while in exile on the island of St. Helena. For a man of such an egomaniacal nature it’s unusual that he didn’t like to sit for portraits. Virtually all of the portrait paintings of Napoleon were done from secondhand accounts with some imagination thrown in. The man in this mask with the chiseled features is the most accurate representation of what Napoleon really looked like. Well, in death at least.

Death mask of Napoleon Bonaparte, 1821

And now, on our Music Monday, the beloved and exquisite 2nd movement of Beethoven’s “Emperor” Concerto. I selected a recording with two acclaimed greats of classical music: conductor Bernard Haitink and pianist Claudio Arrau. This is the creation Beethoven fought for tooth and nail during that miserable, besieged time, amid shelling, explosions, and his busted ears hanging on for dear life. In a melodic, spiritual dream of pathos and joy, art’s transcendent beauty emerges from a deafening war zone. Napoleon may have been defeated at Waterloo, but he was truly “conquered” by Beethoven. God bless this man.