Astuce No. 3: It is not wise to measure future “boyfriends” against the men in Georgette Heyer novels.

This is a failing of mine, and it is a fault of my over-active, and un-rational imagination. The men in Georgette Heyer’s novels are suave, chivalrous, commanding, elegant, and the best know how to use a whip. (They also have much much more spunk that Mr Darcy). A Georgette Heyer novel is perfect for a little time in the bath, when you want to retreat into a good story, and a perfect romance. It’s because “whilst the smile that lurked in his eyes had been the undoing of more than one woman”, when they meet the woman they fall in love with, they do, and they fall hard, and reform their characters to make sure they deserve her! Now I could be getting this all wrong, because I have been in love with the Duke of Avon Justin Alistair (from These Old Shades) since I was fifteen, and I should know better! However, I do think that a little regency style wooing would not go amiss! Not that I want to be a marchioness, no! I want to be from the petticoat line, and an opera dancer who delights in the pleasures of the Vauxhall Gardens and their masquerade balls. At least one that is faithful in heart to Justin Alistair, because it sounds a lot more fun than Almacks, and dancing the Cotillion.

May I retreat into my imagination now please?

Astuce No. 2: Never let yourself give-in to giving-up….

Because no matter how easy it is sometimes to think that all you want to think, and all you want to feel is numb you must never let yourself give-in to giving-up. And because I am not loquacious enough to describe why, I will use this perfect quote from C.S. Lewis, because no one could write it any better.

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves.

Which you should always remember, no matter how horrendous, hideous, and hormonal you feel you should never put the real you away in the shelf. Not even for a second, if you can help it.

 

For when you have been in love, Astuce No.1: Do not let yourself be maudlin.

It is very important when you are getting over someone not to let yourself be maudlin, if you do you can very easily fall into over sentimentality, and from there things just very easily seem to spiral down. Especially if something has happened to make you forget the good things that have happened since. Also important is not to let yourself be swayed by songs that might be stuck in your head (more succinctly, Prince’s Get Off, because no one needs to not be able to sleep with “there’s a rumor going all round that you ain’t been gettin’ served” running round their heads!). Therefore, with a warning that this is depressing, here’s what I wrote the weekend before last.

“One must learn to love, and go through a good deal of suffering to get to it, and the journey is always towards the other soul”. D.H. Lawrence.

 

“Last night I sobbed myself to sleep, for the first time since July. I sobbed because I still miss him. Because I wanted him there to hold me. I wanted him there to kiss me and tell me everything was going to be all right. I wanted to have him holding me, my back to him, and his naked chest against my back. One arm around my waist and up towards my breast. The other under my head the arm outstretched away from me, the fingers of his hand curled up. My bottom pressed up against his stomach. His legs bent into the back of my bent knees following the shape of my bent legs. So I could feel the smile on his face through his body. Because I knew there was a smile on his face as sure as I knew his soul was smiling, as sure as I knew how light and happy my soul felt. So I sobbed because I love him, and I sobbed because there’s a part of me that want to dislike him for not loving me enough to defy his family. I sobbed because there’s a part of me that will belong to  him, and I’m still trying to figure out how to not let that make me less of a person.  I sobbed because there’s a part of me that wants to hate him but that I can’t, because it seems physically impossible to me. So I sobbed because I just blame myself instead and all of my failings that may or may not actually exist, because it’s so much easier to blame myself than him. Because a part of me will love him forever, and that’s why I sobbed myself to sleep.

And because, believe it or not, it wasn’t about sex. It was because in those moments he was mine completely, and I knew that. That he was mine, he felt safe, and he felt good with me, that we were right. And it is because I miss that level of familiarity.  That level of comfort and understanding that no time can erase. No time can’t, but doubt can.

I just wanted to talk to him. About my day, my week, everything that’s happened recently. But I can’t even do that, because that would hurt him, and I’m not that vindictive. To talk to him, to have him listen, give advice and laugh. I wanted to tell him how I’m scared. How I’m scared it’s all going to overtake me, how I’m scared that I’m going to lose myself, that I am losing myself. How I want to think there are people that care enough about me to not let it happen. I sobbed because now I can’t even trust the moments when he was mine. Because if I don’t know if that was real then how can I ever believe anything again. I don’t want to lose myself, and the love I could give. Because bitter is a terrible thing and I know I’ve got past that. So why still the tears?

Because now I want more from someone than that moment. I want someone proud of me, someone who talks in those moments, for there never to be a need for a worry, an embarrassment, or a sorry. Be there in my life, and let me in his. And above all make it ours. So you see I am past the bitter, I just need to move past the tears, and maybe the anger at his behavior. Because he has still left me as me, whatever he may think. I just need to move past the tears and into a self-belief too, that there is more that I do (if you excuse the cliché) deserve.

For now, before I can start building moments, and not wanting to hurt or be vindictive, I guess I’m stuck with being defiant. And that means I’m going out; and my hair is curly because he hated that, my finger nails are red, I’m wearing a dress he never liked, and my purple shoes that made me taller than him. And for the first time since he left, I felt brave enough to wear one of the watches he gave me. And I surprised myself because it felt so right, it felt like mine, not his, but part of my character, because he did know how to chose a watch well! And do you know what; I’ve got a smile on my face.

Because tomorrow I’m still going to be drawing, possibly dancing around to Prince (now if only he hated hip-hop too!), and I will still have a smile on my face because if I can hold it together then it can only get better everyday, and I’m still the one with the choices. Even if I do still cry occasionally, but now at least I do know you must learn to love, and having learned once, and known the suffering  I‘d still rather learn again then never, and only ever regret what could have been. (And what’s more I can even acknowledge that I needed to learn! That there is a difference to being in love, and being yourself, and it being right. To thinking you are in love, and not being selfish enough to not see that you’re not with the right person, and being someone you’re not because you think its right for them, so it could be right for you too if only your tried harder. Well it never would be, you can’t change for love, you have to work at love but not try at love (there is a difference), and you can’t help people to change themselves for love. You have to learn that too. And be selfish enough, and brave enough to realize the difference. And then once you know the difference, be brave enough to never accept any less, and remember what you’ve learnt).

So here’s to the moments. Because no matter what someone’s put you through in the past, no matter what bad moments, you have to trust your feeling, your instinct and intuition. So you know you deserve the love, the laughter, the moments you can have with someone new. If you are brave enough (and selfish enough) to take that chance. Because just maybe…. Just maybe it was what was meant for you all along, on your journey to that soul.”

So if for when you have been in love and you must be maudlin, at least try and get to the better bit at the end! Then there can have been a reason for ignoring astuce no. 1.

Colour, with thoughts on drawing….

One of the things I love most about drawing is that you start of with a blank piece of paper that somehow then takes shape and form, as you begin to make your marks on it. That with just one graphic pencil you can create depth, light, and shade; and give life to something there on that piece of paper. Moreover, for myself personally, if I can be abstracted from what I’m drawing and just really concentrate on the different shapes and shading then I find the finished result is always much better. As in if I’m drawing a face, I don’t want to concentrate on the drawing of an eye, or a nose. I just want to concentrate on what I can see in my head, or in front of me, the light and dark.  Then that something could be anything, but what it results in is so much better than if I sat there thinking I am drawing a face, I am drawing a face.

I have the same fascination with painting. But here there is the added magic trick of mixing colours. I have a little book where I cut out and keep all the colours I’ve mixed for various paintings. Because it is amazing what you can do with just the twelve colours I keep on my palette. One of the most fascinating books I’ve ever read is Colour: Travels through the paint box, by Victoria Finlay, because it tells you the history of all the different pigments used to make paints. (And since reading it, even though I don’t often paint skies, and nowhere near as well as I would like to, every time I look at a sunset I can’t help but to start thinking about all the different colours I’d use to paint it).

When painting my skin tones I use yellow ochre (paint from a pigment, or at least it used to be), Chinese white, Sepia, and sometimes Light red or Cadmium red. So if I were to use Naples yellow, which isn’t a traditional pigment, would that be cheating? My Granddad who painted boats, rarely included people in his paintings, when he did he used Naples yellow for their skin. Therefore, I wondered what would be better. Here the man is based on Naples yellow, the woman Yellow Ochre. I don’t know which I prefer aesthetically, but I do know it feels more natural, and challenging (and infinitely more enjoyable) to mix a skin colour from Yellow Ochre. (Of course, I do use Sap green, and that is not from anything natural, but I can’t mix greens, and goodness knows I have tried).

Then of course, I got to thinking about my next question, do I appreciate my own artwork, and should artists appreciate their own work?

Faut croire….

Je crois aussi…. Et je crois qu’il y a toujours les moyennes pour trouve, et obtiens ce que tu veux. Il faut juste croire que c’est possible, et a de la patience, jusqu’à  nous obtiendrons le bon moment. Rêve bien fort. Et pourquoi pas ?

Posing Nude….

“I have unbound admiration for the nude. I worship it like a God. The body expresses the spirit whose envelope it is.  And for him who can see, the nude offers the richest meaning”. Auguste Rodin.

I don’t like people I know knowing about my art, I know this is strange, and I don’t really know where this comes from. (I think it is something to do with so much of me being in my art, and how I think it would make me and my emotions vulnerable, if people I know look at it too much, like it would expose me and leave me feeling naked! It gives confidences where maybe I didn’t want. That and no-one I have been involved with before has been interested in it, a lack of an artistic soul perhaps! (Or maybe I just didn’t tell them!). Having said that, someone who liked and understood it (or took something from it, in a way that doesn’t have to be understanding, or the same as what I see in it. What I mean is everyone can see something different in it, that‘s fine!)  would be very attractive to me!). Anyway, my point is this, I went on a sort of blind date at the end of August (terrible) and he asked (because he knew about my art) if I had ever posed nude for another artist, and when I said no, would I?

So imagine my surprise, and the questions that followed (in my head) when my unthinking reaction was no! My main subject is the nude, and yes, I know mostly nude females. Some of my art has been described as erotic. I am not uncomfortable with my naked body (or my sexualité and how I use it, does that sound strange?) I like the idea I can draw a naked woman how I want her to be, hopefully empowering her (and me) in her nakedness, sexuality and femininity, without it being a man dictating what (or how) this should be (as I have said numerous times before). So why was my answer no? (Apart from the fact, that maybe I just didn’t want to think of myself naked around him!).

I don’t really know, and I can’t really answer that. Only to say this, since thinking more about it, I would draw myself (do, and have done, just when it‘s easier to see an idea of the image I have in my head, proportion, limb placement, etc.), so if I ever meet an artist who I admire and like if he or she asked me to pose nude (and I could chose, or agree with the position) I know I would. (Which I have to say I’m impressed with myself for, because I wasn’t always this acceptable to that, or what that is, confident I guess, for want of a better word!).

Here’s what you should know about me….

Here’s what you should know about me, and I’m not talking curvy, I’m not talking about who I am or what I am, I’m not even talking about the fact that I don’t sulk, but that I can brood (and yes there is a difference). I’m just trying to balance things out. If I want a muse, if I have a muse, surely a muse should know what he’s getting in me? It’s really just some advice if you care to listen, or maybe just a tiny explanation of me. And because I like to circumnavigate my ideas, please bear with me here…. (And accept what you already know of, and about me).

If Einstein said that true art is characterised by an irresistible urge in the creative artist, then as someone who wants to be an artist I would have to agree with this, no? Well I do, so that should tell you how I follow my emotions, and how my emotions can be, well, tumultuous would be the word! And by that I mean I will go with them, follow them to an extreme I guess, which let’s face it could be hard for the most sane (or strong, patient) person to follow. (And yes, I will be the first to admit, it does need some managing at times, but the artist (and female) in me can’t manage that yet! And yes, I suppose that can make me annoyingly impulsive at first, with an urge to articulate and express everything, until I know there’s a base behind my trust for you I will probably be like this).

But at the heart of all that, as much as I will always be me (because I don’t know how to be anything different or false), there is a part of me that wants ordinary too. I want an ordinary life, what everybody wants, someone to wake up next to, who calls me his. But I want more than that too. I want an ordinary life inside an extraordinary existence. Because I want to be an artist, and because I want someone who understands that’s who I am, and how I am, and who I want to be!

Who can look for the extraordinary in the ordinary with me! Because it’s there everyday if you care to look for it properly. A sunset, a shooting star, a quickening of breath, a cup of tea in bed one morning, a dance in the kitchen just because you feel like it. I could go on all day. (And I haven’t even gone into the role fate plays in all this!).

Someone who is somebody without me! Someone who will take me as someone without him (as an artist?). Who understands that two somebody’s really do make something! And that someone, if I’m being honest, and if I’m going to be someone, will need to help me sometimes. And not just because he will have all the help I can offer, but because he wants to too!

And it’s not just art to soothe my heart, it’s art to keep it beating! Someone who understands why Anton Chekov said “Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass”, because that’s what I will want to do!

(And if it’s too many wants I’m sorry, I just had to get it off my chest.)

(And the picture is an old one that I’ve just not used on my blog before, which somehow just seemed to go with these words.)

(And one more promise to myself, and to you, I will not be so philosophical in my next post at all! In fact, the title shall be “Posing Nude”.)

How you can feel alone in company.

How can you feel alone when you’re out and in company, and it’s not even that the company aren’t your friends? There’s just something about the special quality of being in company as part of a couple (yes, admittedly something I have lacked recently, so not missed until I thought about it). It’s that little look, and special smile. The smile that you know is just for you, because you alone recognise at that moment its value and quality. The raise of an eyebrow. The brief pressure of hand on hand. The fact that no matter what you’re doing there’s someone there looking out for you. And I guess that’s my vulnerable moment, as much as you can learn to love yourself (and be confident in yourself most of the time!), as much as you can heal your heart (and you can!), as much as you can feel truly ready to move on (yup!); you won’t truly until you know you don’t feel alone in company! That you’ve got someone who’s going to look at you in that way (or at least if they’re not there is going to be thinking of you in that way wherever they are), the way that males you want to get them home alone as quick as possible, just the two of you!

 

In search of a muse that must….

So first, a little note to the origins of a muse, and its definition. The Muses were Greek goddesses said to inspire the creation of literature and arts, with the definition of a muse as a compliment to a real woman who inspires creative endeavour appearing later! Therefore, a strong enough influence to shape the focus and inspiration of an artist’s creative works, of course affected by the artist’s own human condition. So as a female artist should I not have a muse? Should my art not be affected by my condition, and the way I deal with my emotions? Well it must and I do, so I am in search of a muse that….

…. Must be intelligent, someone who challenges my views, and can teach me as much as I can him. Must say things that make me smile, that he can hear the smile in my voice, that he thinks I am pleine de vie! Someone who makes me want to go gggrrrrrrrrrr! I want to feel their heartbeat, and know it is beating for me. I want to feel the weight of skin on skin. They must be able to make me laugh, to make me cry (because a muse isn’t always the good, so I will accept this, but maybe not too much all the same! Because love is about understanding, and sometimes forgiveness. I have had quite enough of that for a while). I want them to be in love with me enough that they want to count the freckles on my body, and notice and know where the two small matching ones are, one on the left and one on the right! They must be able to make me smile, but not just smile, they must be able to make me smile uncontrollably. You know, when suddenly they’re in your head, and you cannot control it. You get that tight butterfly knot in your stomach, and suddenly you’re smiling so much you have to turn around before anyone notices. Someone who won’t think I’m strange when I say random things, which I can do occasionally, for example I like the smell of sleeping in a tent. (I promise this isn’t all about you, it’s just what’s been on my mind has made me remember what I’m looking for!). Also maybe someone who understands that art can be messy, seem as at the moment I am covered in black and white ink, making me look like a sort of Picasso portrait. Most of all, I want a muse that when I’m with them, I know that there’s not a single problem that cannot be overcome because there’s one word, and that one word is us!

And I’m looking forward to all the inspiration and irresistible urges he will bring, and everything that will come, because after all I have no control over my heart or it‘s feelings.

The painting that’s taken over a year is finally done, as am I, so now I can carry on….

The painting I started composing over a year ago in my head is finally as finished as it will ever be. It started as “How it might work with a morning kiss”, and it was full of romantic stupid feeling, full of the feeling of being kissed goodbye in the morning as he went off to work. So it changed when he left, and had to go, to never more, to I can’t take anymore how this is making me feel, and I have to stop it letting me feel like this.

So I planned it, I stretched the paper, I drew in the pencil, and then I wrote a list of how I was going to paint it, then I stopped. After a time I knew I really had to paint, because once I started, and the more I painted, the more I knew that once it was finished I would truly be able to feel that I was ready to move on. It’s not three years of a relationship in a painting, but I have given it my best, and that’s all I can have hoped to do.

And one thing I realised, about midway through the painting…. I’m not painting this for him anymore. It’s for me, it’s for me and the fact that I’ve realised I’m ready to move on now. It’s about the passion I felt for him, that I thought was beyond me, it’s about the fact that the end of our relationship and us, doesn’t have to be the end of me! I want to be living, and thrilling, and nervously waiting a long anticipated waited for first-kiss.

So what next? I am going to offer him the painting. If he doesn’t want it, I want to sell it.

So then what next? Well I guess I feel ready to start looking around me, to move on, and feel like I want to be a little cheeky, a little flirty, to rediscover me, to be continued, in the search for a new muse, and what I’m going to be looking for?