How do YOU measure up?

 As an ongoing investigation into both the Culture’s definition of beauty and my personal definition of self, I have been looking into historic fashion choices and not-so-subtle childhood messages handed down through toys.

 

Barbie was the first adult toy marketed for children. It was modeled after a sex toy, called the Lilli, made for German men. Here is one Link to learn more.  My mother strongly opposed acquiring the doll, but my sister and I managed to inherit our babysitter’s collection. Soon after, I had a nightmare of my Barbie aiming to kill me.

My fears of being less than the proportions idealized by media and plastic Barbie, may have led me to suffer anorexia nervosa as a teenager. After all, she came with a wardrobe and a teeny book called How to Lose Weight. Inside it just said, “don’t eat”.

 In less than 100 years, her tiny, pointed feet and wide-set eyes, that only looked demurely sideways, her impossibly narrow waist, and large breasts, and her pearly-pink hairless skin have become an ideal for today’s beauty standards. There is speculation that she could have led to the growingcosmetic surgery business today, the fear of body hair, and an embracing of plasticity as a filter.

 

Distorted body proportions and exaggerated poses are everywhere through time. In the 1800s the Hottentot Venus, (a stolen 20-year-old Khoikhoi woman from South Africa: Saartji Baartman), was paraded against her will and almost naked for the titillating the male European gaze. Here is one link to learn more about this. Women in France and England adopted bustles and Basques into their fashion to mimic the enlarged rear of the South African.

 As we look to history, I am amazed at the embrace of glamour through whitening of skin with the lead paint and arsenic wafers (that slowly poisoned the wearer). I am horrified by the bound miniature feet of the Asian nobility. I panic at the elongated necks of the Myanmar and imagine the dread of the daily use of a whale bone corsets. I willingly ignore the affect of the porn industry on beauty.

 

 

As recently as 2014 Kim Kardashian a woman who uses her sexual appeal as currency to sell a fashion line, posed as the Khoikhoi woman, balancing a champagne glass on her derriere for a shot which enraged many feminists and blacks. Beyonce is rumored to be thinking of making a film about Baartman, but that has led to it's own furor.

 

Fashion minimizes and exagerates the average body type. It always has and always will. How do you live with that constant feeling of falling short or being in the wrong time? How does your body measure up? I am interested in your thoughts.

Make Art this Summer with an Accountability Coach

Are you frustrated with not getting to the studio? Do you need help and a plan to make some art over this summer? Are you stuck? Are you currently in a hard place and need some light? Are you confused and trying to find a creative style? Do you have ideas but lack the discipline to show up for them?

Well- perhaps it is time to Show up for the Muse with me via Zoom!!! • Show up each week for 6 weeks • All Media artists are welcome! • Once a week Zoom to check in on your progress • Email support at any time • Exhibition at end of session at ArtsMidHudson

We can do this together! I have been teaching art to all age groups for the last 26 years and have learned that making art is possible for everyone if they just show up. The challenges in life cost all of us time and space, but I am living proof that an art practice can lift you, like a life raft, through turbulent times and it can enrich your participation in the good times. Just a few years ago my marriage was crumbling. I was sitting at the bedsides of two dear dying friends and my father-in-law was degenerating into Dementia. On top of it, my children were leaving home as adults. The feeling of loss and lack was almost unbearable. By a miracle, and through a daily gratitude list, I was able to see my way to the studio. Not expecting to be able to do much, I focused on one thing, the color orange! I painted with that color until the tube emptied. Have you ever looked at an apple (the same apple) for 30 days and tried to see it differently? It is a classic art lesson that forces you to go beyond the physicality of the subject. Certain parameters on your art can actually push you to see through to a liberating perspective. I learned so much about seeing the world when I tried to paint the greens of summer in Pyrole orange! Ever since, I have been showing up every day to paint my way to health and happiness. I have seen firsthand how a daily art practice can transform a life.

Some of each series can be seen on my website: www.tillystudio.com. Now I am passionate about helping others find their way through the challenging times, and even the best of times, by showing up for the Muse. Doing anything for 40 days, and there is historic proof that it will change you!

The details! Go from feeling cloudy to clarity As your accountability coach, I will inspire discipline to the creation of at least 6, and possibly up to 40, works of art! Sign up through www.ArtMidHudson.org , under summer workshops $100.00 per person AMH Members and $115.00 per person non-members This is a virtual class. Our weekly zoom sessions will be on Tuesdays, June 15, 22, 29, July 6, 13, 20; 7pm-8pm You will be guided each week through goal setting, series synthesis, time management, handling challenges, chronicling insights, and of course-celebrating successes! The class participants will be your new support group and I will be available for email support as well. We have a group exhibit opportunity at the MidHudson Arts Gallery in Poughkeepsie!! Expect bonus PDF resources and downloads as well as links to other artists and stories of working in a series. Are you ready to show up? Working in a series has many benefits. It is a tool to process an event, emotion, and even relationships. If you do anything for 40 days it will change your life! Sign up at www.artsmidhudson.org Questions: tillystudio@aol.com Let’s show up together!

Virus Anniversary Ponderings on a Plague Saint

 

Marking the anniversary of yearlong pandemic-induced closures and nationwide isolation, I am drawn to St Sebastian as a perfect devotional image. Depicted tied to a column, tree or stake, he is riddled with arrows and gazing, with a beatific smile, up to the heavens.

Back during Bubonic plagues of 17^th century Europe, Christians embraced the saint as an intercessor for their prayers. Sebastian, who lived in Rome, became a martyr who submitted to torture and was left for dead twice. He seemed to defy odds, surviving arrow wounds and beatings. For that reason, he could serve as a lightening rod to relieve and protect others from the plague.  

 

There are other saints to pray to for help in times of plagues, such as the Virgin Mary and St Roch, but St Sebastian seems to be the perfect one for me.

His ideal physique, riddled with arrows has come to symbolize the toleration of multiple zoom meetings and multiplying obituary pages, while the archers, who run away on the receding road, are the business commitments and goals of a “get-me-ahead-at-any-cost” lifestyle. The calendar is the rubble of antiquity around us. I strive for the verticality, and the connection to God.

 

St Sebastian By Botticelli

, Tempera on panel, 1474 (Berlin)

In the 14^th century the “Black Death” killed 30 million people in Europe alone, and an estimated 75 to 200 million across Eurasia. Some people blamed God and turned to focus less on the afterlife and more on a humanist philosophy of earthly delights. Many blamed marginal groups such as the Jews, and instituted brutal and devastating pogroms. The movement of the Flagellants reflected a growing belief that self –harm could win God’s favor and spare the body or even the community. Many people attended gruesome performances of the faithful whipping themselves into frenzy. In the port of Venice, they instituted a law for 30-day isolation applicable to all incoming ships, called a “trentino”, and then extended that for what we now call a “quarantino”

In the 15^th and 16^th century, with the European hunger for world exploration, (and exploitation), 80 to 90% of indigenous populations in the Americas were wiped out by small pox.

Just this week America reached a milestone of 500.000 deaths due to Covid. There hasn’t been public mass mourning until President Biden and VP Harris stood in silence with 500 lit candles. We seem like Sebastian, suspended between two deaths, those of our loved ones and possibly ours. St Sebastian reminds us of that as he is depicted still alive a moment or two before his death. He shares in our personal vulnerability.

 

 Featured art work:

Digital drawing, dimensions variable. Last May, my 82 year old mother had to undergo massive surgery on a rare abdominal cancerous tumor during the Covid crisis. We had to drop her off outside the hospital and wait to hear from her after hours of surgery and recovery. I did this drawing as a prayer and a nod to St. Sebastian. (And mom's doing great!)

Swisssemester.org equals learning, persistance, endurance, and endorphins

 I was pretty quickly shocked by the daily athletic requirements of the program, but with persistence I was able to cut my lag time from over an hour to 5 minutes behind the rest of the 48 teens! It felt like that was a wonderful achievement. I can only hope to get even more fit. Swiss semester put me out of my comfort zone and gave me the hiking bug! Seriously, it was a gift to be able to thrash my body against the natural elements and reduce the scope of my worries to the next couple of steps or the next breath. I felt all my worries about American Politics, family health, a purpose in life, etc, just fall away. Each day was planned and assigned.  Outside of classes, all I had to do was follow directions, read the trail markers and make it to the meeting places. You had to be flexible and open to changes. A lot depended on the weather and us keeping Covid virus safe.

#newhobby #athletic #challenges

Image of the "Mother of Modern Medicine" Inspires Hope for Vaccine.

As we try to “flatten the curve” of stress on our medical facilities and healthcare workers, we pray for a vaccine against Covid19. Doctors are studying patient responses and leaning over lab Petri dishes with questions. No doubt they will turn to the immortal cells of Henrietta Lacks, called HeLa cells, that have helped fight numerous diseases from Polio, Ebola, Parkinson’s to AIDS.  

Who was Henrietta Lacks?

Henrietta Lacks, a young mother of five, died in 1951 at John Hopkins Hospital from cervical cancer that her Doctor noted "looked like pearls". He had stitched tubes and pouches filled with radium inside her cervix, as was standard treatment at the time for invasive cervical cancer. He also took some cell samples from her cervix, without her knowledge or consent, which was also standard practice at that time.

Henrietta, the great, great, granddaughter of a slave, died that same year at the age of 31. Her cells in the lab replicated quickly and continually and amazed the doctor with their seeming immortality. They were the first human cells to reproduce outside the body! Afraid of being sued, the doctor gave the cells a code name, “HeLa” and shared them in labs across the country. They are still the most commonly used cells in research today.

The story turns rough when you learn that in the 1970’s some scientists, with secret agendas, did research on Henrietta Lacks' children without their informed consent. Then in 1975, a family friend asked about the source of the Lacks cells that his coworkers, at the National Cancer Institute, were studying. It brought a light to the two decades of darkness that the Lacks family had been kept in.

A book was written, then an HBO movie. In 2010 the John Hopkins Hospital donated a grave marker to her unmarked plot. It says: “Here lies Henrietta Lacks, Her immortal cells will continue to help mankind forever.”

To say that Lacks is a global phenomenon would be limiting. In 1962 her cells were launched into outer space aboard a Russian satellite for study. Two years ago, the National Museum of African American History ofCulture and the National Portrait Gallery jointly acquired a painting of Lacks. It adds a beautiful and much needed face to the woman often called “the mother of modern medicine”.

Kadir Nelson with his painting of Lacks

Who painted her portrait?

Kadir Nelson (b.1974), an American artist, was commissioned by HBO for the 2017 movie premier of “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks”, to paint the first portrait of Lacks. An author of several best-selling children’s books on African-American culture and lead artist for Steven Spielberg’s 1997historical drama Amistad, Nelson is known for his larger than life portraits of African American leaders. According to his website, Nelson chooses “subject matter that has emotional and spiritual resonance and focuses on the journey of the hero as it relates to the personal and collective stories of people."

There was no portrait in existence of Lacks save for two small family photos. Nelson used those as well as a vocabulary of symbolism to tell Lacks' story. Standing in a red dress, Nelson paints a yellow straw hat as a halo around Lacks’ head. Her strong faith is reflected in the bible she holds with her hands crossed over her womb. A complex “Flower of Life” pattern against which she stands is the ancient symbol for immortality and exponential growth. The pearls around her neck reflect the doctor’s note about how her cancer grew. A pendant of a nest represents motherhood and the hope of fresh birth. The repeating flower pattern on the dress symbolizes the biological bounty that she shed without knowledge for our salvation. The most poignant details are the two small buttons missing from her dress. They symbolize that something precious was taken from her.

Hopefully, soon the HeLa cells will demonstrate another cure.

This year will be a little less...

Thinking of all those who died last year, it is hard for me to imagine the space they held being so empty now.

I guess we get to travel a little longer and carry their potential a little heavier on our souls. If nothing else, I rejoice each day with the miracle of songbirds outside my window and my own eyes to see them, and the breath that still travels through me! Everyone be safe!

#loss #death #mourning

What is the worst thing you can say to a lady?

1620, painting by Marcus Gheeraerts

I think up there on the list of what is the worst thing you can say, is when someone asks me, "when are you expecting?" I wonder if the regret and angst of the foolish questioner lasts even a fraction of the time that the shame and hurt belonging to the questioned one lasts.
Today the nicest lady asked me that when I was wearing a huge coat and scarf! It was 19 degrees outside and I felt more like an astronaut, with all my layers on, than a young pregnant maiden. I hurriedly reassured her that I was way, way too old to be pregnant! And, not wanting her to feel bad, I even hugged her and forced a laugh. But the rude question swelled in my head as I drove away. Shame filled me for not having a  svelt body that carries clothes like a hangar. I've been exercising daily so, I railed at myself for not dieting, and for even wanting lunch.

1862 Luncheon on the Grass, by E. Manet

It happened earlier this year, last spring when I was touring a museum with my 28 year old son. A museum guard came over and wide-eyed, asked me in broken English when I was due. I was horrified and the dress that, up to then, I had enjoyed wearing, now felt like a cloth sack to be burned.
The worst: is my poor boyfriend, who is left picking up the pieces, and is forced to praise my body, even begging me today to lay on top of him. (I feel sure I would have crushed him flat).
He tries so hard to make me feel beautiful.
I think of the saying that you can only be victimized with your permission, and realize that I need a good comeback. Any out there? Any advice?
My advice to you is to NOT EVER ask that question unless you are in the hospital maternity ward.

On Being a Good Hostess for Heartbreak

Haunting, acrylic on panel

These festive holidays of light actually fall on some of the darkest days of the year. Every year, as Christmas and Hanukkah approaches, many people see the world like George Bailey in “It’s a wonderful Life”. They feel that they just can’t do it. There is so much stress, from going off diets to diving deep in the red with finances. On top of it, we may have attended more than our fair share of funerals. My aunt, (who was a veritable Christmas elf) passed away at the end of November and a friend lost her grown son to the ultimate moments of depression.

Do I need to go into all the reasons people might not be as happy as those perfect family units in the advertisements? Some people can’t handle it. Perhaps a loss, a breakup, some past trauma, the political divide, the seasonal light disorder, or insufficient funds are to blame. In a season of ritual gathering, pressure gifting and belting carols, we can feel alone and unworthy heading into the holidays.

Throwing a party comes with all sorts of lists and preparatory steps. May I suggest that we not forget the friend suffering depression at this time? Gatherings can seem full of false cheer and guests may feel as if divided by an invisible wall looking in.

Have on hand simple items like tissues, treats, small oranges and offer your friend moments of stillness. I always try to have wine, nuts, assorted teas and fruit to share. Small oranges can remind us of brighter times with their sunny color and sweet taste. I keep a few handy to pass to the homeless on the street corners.

How can we be here for each other? The biggest gift of all the holiday gifts, the one the corporations don’t intend us to remember, is the gift of our attention. Speak frankly and share memories. Listen in stillness and try to understand. Don’t tell someone depressed to “cheer up”, but be honest and unflinching with your concern. When people are grieving and mourning, it’s okay to remember together and even laugh with the tears. It is important to talk and listen with respect. Everyone’s depression is different. If the discussion gets heated and aggressive, try saying, “Lets talk about that another time.” And walk away. Moving the body is always good, so an invitation to walk around the block can be just the ticket to brighten some ones mood. Some depressed folks appreciate a sad movie or a depressing book, like The Bell Jar by Silvia Plath. Self-help books should be shared sparingly. Often it’s a double-edged sword, leading to additional feelings of inadequacy.

Art and music can be used to set a mood that embraces the idea of small joys making big holidays. Song lists can cover a range of holiday genre and eras. So often I am not truly in the present moment unless I am painting a picture. For me paintings capture the fleeting moment that enriches my appreciation for little things, like sunlight and a good mug of tea. Looking at a work of art can bring wonder to life.

Lit Candle, sewn paper painting

Don’t forget the tissue box.

Forgive Me Flowers

It has been raining a lot both outside and through the telephone lines.
Young hearts are broken, my cousin's wife was buried, my friend from church is ill again. As I was about to throw out the flowers scattered all over the house, I saw their lasting beauty and grace in the drooping form and draining colors. (Isn't it great when we can really see? sometimes I am awake!)
They said to me:
I am sorry you are hurting.
I am sorry I was an idiot.
I may not be perfect but I still am here for you.
Sad flowers today...
Perhaps they are what our sad souls really need. Miniature paintings only 4 x 4 x 1.75 inches.

RIP Uncle Pat

This past Friday my mother's brother, a favorite uncle of mine, died. He was in his beautiful home, peacefully attended to by his wife and sister-in-law.    ...We are all devastated.
It was sometime in mid December that his checkup came up strange- and with further screening it was revealed that cancer had invaded almost his entire body. He opted to not undergo any radical treatments and instead- went home the afternoon of his diagnosis- to change the bulbs and batteries in all the flashlights, smoke detectors, and hard to reach lights.

lined up flashlights ready to go

His concern was for his wife and, lucid to the very end, he taught her which bills to pay, filed the past year's income tax and assured her that their love was all that mattered. I tried to visit him each weekend, making the 2 hour drive across the Everglades each time. I found him only slightly diminished, always impeccably dressed, and a gentleman. He was stubbornly careful to avoid any discussion of his condition, and yet curious as to how we were doing. His smile, and sweet demeanor will always stay with me.

just weeks before he's gone

I was blessed to be a beneficiary of his hosting great meals at restaurants and yet I am still baffled by his simple tastes. Now I feel inspired to create a foodie pamphlet recalling those idiosyncrasies and sharing his down home menus and secret passions.

his 1/3 daily ration of favorite donut

If we all wonder how to lead a hedonistic 21st century globe-trotting life and still keep our figures- Uncle Pat could be the example. He was always about small portions and a pattern of intake. My mother swears he could still fit into the clothes of his youth well up into his 80's!
(more about this later)

here he is blending in with the other ascetics

Today I put together a painting of a bird, plunging to the sea, on plaster and burlap that tries to portray the beauty and flight of my lovely uncle.

When I feel sad, I have to create. It is how I get the bad feelings outside of me and how I can diminish their power over my psyche. I am sad my uncle is gone, but so glad, extremely glad, to have been a part of his life for however long I was granted. He showed me the stars and supported my wings.

Unladylike protest of the Patriarchy

With apologies to my dad, who is a great guy, I am seething green with anger towards the PATRIARCHY.  Privileged profiteering white men have steamrolled and destroyed my faith this week (and in recent months) in the US Presidency, my faith in my state representatives, my belief in the purity of the supreme court, my faith in the press, my faith in the FBI and my faith in the balance of powers for a true and equal citizen based democracy.

This is not my government. I cannot trust the system. Women still do not have equal rights in the constitution (my mother and aunts marched for the ERA), no rights for equal work pay-scales or for autonomy of their own bodies! The insults stack up, such as the extra tax on basic needs like tampons, and the constant hits advertising media spreads telling women that they are not being beautiful enough, soft enough, skinny enough, white enough, or ladylike enough.

Well I bought Unladylike by Cristen Conger and Caroline Ervin. It is a "field guide to smashing the patriarchy and claiming your space". They have it at our local independent bookstore, Books and Books. As well as on Amazon. These authors are bright podcasters of humor, hope and activism

and I need that today. The newest Supreme court judge was just sworn into his LIFETIME job with the least amount of supporting votes ever. I am so sad. I believed his perjuring himself and his belligerent, rude, blatant partisan attitude during the senate questioning made him clearly unfit for the position. I am- like a statistic of 1 in 4 college women- a rape survivor. I believed Dr. Ford who bravely testified that Judge Kavanaugh held her down, covered her mouth (and laughed) and attempted to rape her. This confirmation of a justice, in spite of the outcry, to the highest court is a dog whistle to all the men who benefit from objectifying women and assaulting girls. It confirms and unveils the power men wield and their profiteering over women in this non-democracy capatalist country.

Being born white, American, and upper middle class, I am a beneficiary of many privileges that my sisters do not have and suffer from many inherent biases as well. But all women, all of us, have been struggling for fair representation for hundreds of years. And like Justice Ruth B. Ginsberg said in a court case before she was confirmed (by a wide margin of 96 to 3) for the Supreme Court 25 years ago, ‘I ask no favor for my sex. All I ask of our brethren is that they take their feet off our necks." Now... we are given a court that leans toward holding us down and clamping our mouths shut.

In the mail yesterday (from my donation to Moveon)- arrived copies of the DVD RGB!!! I am just getting fired up and unladylike. Know anybody that needs a copy?

Can we have faith in the voting booths? Those rights and systems have also been under assault!