Muse

Preface: Expecting me to write about my "new life"? I want to back off writing about the minutiae of my own life, and get back to writing about other things, such as riffing off the little ideas that pop into my head. I promise, if something exciting happens, I will write about it.

After reading an excerpt from the poem "Teodoro Luna Confesses..." by Alberto Ríos over at BitteGrace Notes, I thought once again, that while I enjoyed it some, I have mixed feelings, leaning heavily towards the negative, about (mostly) woman-as-muse.

This is one of those things where my being both a fervent feminist and having a highly sex positive attitude crash against each other wildly. I am for legalizing prostitution and find pornography perfectly acceptable (though most is awful). But, on the other side, there's something about woman-as-muse that rankles, and it's something that's bugged me since I was quite young.

In art school, it was perfectly acceptable for young female artists to have affairs with the professors, and I hear that in art school this is still true, while it has become unacceptable elsewhere. When I ponder "why the difference?", I come up against this concept of woman-as-muse, especially young women. The male artist chooses someone and then paints or photographs her, or is inspired by her beauty, her skin, her high breasts, whatever else (that may be perfectly legitimate), and in turning it into art, legitimizes what every other man wants, but without the justification of art making, the usual age difference or the professor/mentor/student power imbalance is nullified. Or so they say (and think). The man is in thrall. His creativity is heightened. He produces more. The woman is on a pedestal, almost literally, until he's done with her. In the meantime, he may help her meet contacts in the art world. It is no different than sleeping one's way to the top in any field, but in the world of art, the words to describe this all are different, and it's viewed differently. A young woman in art school who doesn't participate in this deal/bargain/pact is "depriving" herself of opportunities. Read that sentence again and ask yourself if trading a sexual relationship and being someone's inspiration for a while is a valid and healthy part of a college education.

I may be for legal prostitution, but the transactional nature of the student muse is so cloaked in history, glorification, and romanticism that it's hard to see. I suppose I prefer transactions to be cut and dried.

When I was in art school, I refused to participate in any of these deals, though there were "offers." I was told by friends that I was missing out on opportunities. Hey, I could have been a prostitute or a stripper, for that matter, and there would have been cold hard cash involved, but I wouldn't even let a man buy me a drink or a dinner. Silly me.

I had a boyfriend for a few years who saw me as his muse. He was a painter and all his women had been muses. Besides sex, that's what they were for. Objectively, I can't see anything wrong with it, but it bothered me deeply at times. All the drawings of naked women he'd known, presumably loved, nearly worshipped really, and it all was just fodder. Maybe at the heart of this is my dislike of feeling used, objectified, glorified, and then having it all end when the muse-ship is over. "You don't inspire me any more", says the lover to the muse. He must move on to find another who'll buoy up his waning artistry. I find it a crock. It's not his art producing that's waning - it's his sexual interest.

I so dislike dishonesty, especially when lies are so opaque that the lier has no idea of what motivates them (or that they're even lying).

The "new feminist" sees her sexuality as a tool, as power, as currency to be used. I still find that idea reprehensible. I want relationships between human beings to be based on mutual admiration. Pure lust is fine, too, as long as both parties know that's what is going on.

Maybe my feelings are simply prudish.

Oh dear, this is one of those posts that has no conclusion. I'm thinking aloud (as I always do), and this is a huge topic, and one that I have strong feelings about. If I were to do it justice, I would spend a week working on a good entry. So, let's say this is a start, and leave it at that.

Painting note: Ingres "La Source" 1856
It's absurd for me to be writing what I've written, for the female form is simply beautiful. I've always loved drawing nude women. But I don't need the kiss of the muse to inspire me. Quite frankly, I've always found a new love to be quite the distraction from creativity. . .