'i would especially like to recourt the muse of poetry,
who ran off with the mailman four years ago,
and drops me only a scribbled postcard
from time to time.'
~ john updike
degas, 'petite danseuse de quatorze ans'
or 'the little 14-year-old dancer'
or 'the little 14-year-old dancer'
we kid about muses... their fickleness and their wonder...
i was talking to a friend this past week about philly - and the museum of art there... during the conversation i recalled one of my favorite pieces - 'the little dancer'... i am guessing i saw her first about 25 years ago...
it was a powerful - 'is this where it's all coming from?' - moment... my love of mixed media? of fabric with metals - i remember distinctly being drawn to this sculpture - marveling at the use of tulle and silk ribbon with the bronze... soft and hard, matte and shiny, still and flowing... i know that we absorb things along the way... and i have happily spent a lot of time in museums throughout the years... but i had completely forgotten her! she seemed to reflect what i felt inside... never fitting in, always a bit different, a person of right and left brain, dabbling in art and math, able to appreciate almost anything... and so very confused by that aspect of myself at the time... i didn't feel like i would ever accomplish anything because i was so 'all over the place'... i was a guidance counselor's nightmare because i just couldn't pick...i went into college an engineering major, then changed to economics, and fell head over heels in love with art history... now it feels like home... i know i don't have to pick some one thing, i can experiment and experience...
i now can see the face of my muse - the girl who looked at another girl and made her feel like the way she experienced the world was alright... she has been there all along, just waiting for me to remember her... oh, so, patiently...
thanks laura!
