Rob VanderZee told me I was going to have to be willing to sacrifice myself for my artwork about Women's Body Image.  That made me uncomfortable.  I didn't know what he meant.

Today I started to get a feel for what he meant.

Yesterday I met with a publisher who is working with me to develop ideas for my book.  It was an exhilarating meeting.  She has great ideas, is a great listener, and isn't pushy in the least.  I feel like God sent me an angel to help me put the pieces together so that the book can come into being.  It was truly amazing.

Today was the first uninterrupted day I've had in the studio since I stopped tutoring.  (And I have to go to Chris's office party at 5:30, so it isn't quite a full day, but I've sure made the most of it.)  It has been fantastic to have time to explore and do things I've been wanting to do for ages.

As soon as I woke up, I couldn't wait to get up, but I decided to do Morning Pages first so I could blow the cobwebs out of my sleepy brain to help me for the rest of the day.  Then I did 30 minutes of yoga so I could get the creaks out of my body and so I could have more focus in the studio.

After a shower, I took my camera to the post office to send it to Canon for repairs - I was in the middle of a photo shoot a couple of days ago and it completely stopped working.  One of the pins that goes into the memory card broke and I have no way of fixing it myself, so Canon will have to help me out.  $180 - ouch.  But at least I'll have my camera back.  A friend lent me her Nikon because I had another model coming yesterday, so I'm not out of commission, thankfully.

On the way to the post office, I was going down Pinetta here in BonAir.  I saw a police car so I slowed down, as is my wont.  I was going 36 so figured I was probably fine.  I was quite surprised to see the car pull out behind me with lights flashing.  I pulled into the Post Office parking lot with the squad car behind me.  A policewoman got out of the car.  I rolled down the window and asked with concern if I'd done anything wrong.  I couldn't imagine.  She asked if I know the speed limit on Pinetta.  I thought about it and realized I didn't - I figured it was probably 35.  She said it was 25!  Yikes.  I said, "Then I did do something wrong.  Geez."  She asked for my license and registration.  I gave her my license then started scouring the car for my registration.  I had no clue where it would be.  I haven't needed it since we bought the car 18 months ago.  She went back and ran a check on my license while I looked for the registration.  I couldn't find it.  She said, "Well, you have a good driving record so I'm going to give you a Christmas present and only give you a warning.  But make sure you go home and find your registration and put it with your insurance information in an envelope and put both in the car.  If you have an accident you'll need them both."  I was SO relieved.  Here I was going to the PO to send my camera to get fixed, an unexpected expense - if I'd had to add a speeding ticket - 19 miles a hour over the speed limit - I would have been really upset.  Horrible.  I am very thankful for her kindness.  It was truly a lovely gift.


After driving home VERY SLOWLY (and waving at the officer as I drove by her), I came out to the studio as quickly as I could and started painting.  I worked on the new picture of Valley, refining the painting I'd done on her hands and breasts.  They look wonderful. 

After lunch I decided it would be a good idea to do some writing.  I'd told the publisher I needed some time to actually get words down on paper before I met with her again - a book doesn't happen just through talking, I don't think!  I wrote for about an hour about my relationship to my body and various things that have happened over the years to help me come to do this work I'm doing now.  It felt good to get it down on paper, though it did bring up some anger and discomfort.  Oh well, that's part of the work.  As the publisher told me yesterday, writing is a process of discovery.  I've already done a lot of this work, but there is always more to do!


After writing for a while, I decided to do something I'd been wanting to do for quite a while.  The phrase from Rob VanderZee is applicable here.  My interpretation of "sacrificing myself" is to photograph myself and relentless draw what I see.  I started with my belly since that's the part of my body I feel least comfortable with.  I photographed it from all sides in heavy shadow.  This is a pencil drawing I did from one photo.  I plan to do more over the course of the month. 

I also photographed my breasts and drew one of those.  It looks a bit imbalanced in this drawing.  I probably need to go back into it tomorrow.  I'm not going to show it here because it simply isn't well done enough, but eventually I'll get it and will post it.

In addition to my breasts and belly, I thought it might be powerful to photograph my face.  Since I'm the one writing this blog, I get to choose which picture I show (!), so I'm showing one of the ones I find attractive.  I took plenty where I was finding tears and laughter and various feelings.  It was powerful looking through them and seeing myself so clearly.  It's hard to deny what the camera sees, unlike when one looks in the mirror.  I can fool myself in all kinds of ways there.  I think I generally look pretty young, but there's no denying that I have a lot of wrinkles on my face.  I kind of like them and the character they show, but I know I'm not supposed to like them.



I was helped greatly by a 9-year-old student I had when I taught German as a 23-year-old in Austria.  She looked at me and said, "Frau Kuli (her nickname for me), you're going to have the most wonderful wrinkles when you get older because you have such a beautiful smile."  I have chosen to live into that rather than the fear that I'll look old when I get old because I have wrinkles.  I think the lines on my face show the expressions I've had on my face the most - those expressions have carved my skin into the shape it has now.  Had I spent much of my time scowling or frowning or disapproving, my face would look quite different.

I'm thinking about painting a series of self portraits from these photos.  To me, that's what Rob meant - I have to be willing to expose myself completely, to dig deep, deep, deep into my own psyche and offer myself up as someone who has done so in order to enable others to choose to examine their own stuff.  The publisher said the same thing yesterday - that the more truthful I can be in my writing, the more it will resonate with others, and the more they'll be willing to take their own journeys. 

I've done much of the psychological work already - it's recorded in my 4 packing boxes full of journals - but now I have to look back and get some objectivity and write it in a way that others can and want to read.  It's a very personal journey.  A powerful and precious one too.

Sacred Flesh Opening, Part III

In the last post I was talking about the Opening for Sacred Flesh and how it went.  There were more stories to tell...


Susan gesturing to "The Bliss of it All", photo by Susan Hribernik



First, though a funny picture Susan Hribernik took - perfect placement of my fingers, wouldn't you say?!  Silly, silly!







The  picture I got the most questions about during the evening was "Yes, this is me."  A lot of people were surprised I had included a naked picture of myself in the exhibit, but I told them I would have felt like a hypocrite if I hadn't.  How could I expect others to allow nude pictures of themselves to be displayed if I weren't willing to show one of myself?


Others were very interested to know the technique I'd used to create it.  I've written about it before on this blog, but for those of you who haven't read it - I occasionally do "blow out" paintings - emotional pictures done in a flurry of feelings when no other modality will help me let loose of them.  They have not yet proven to be paintings I would show in public, but they're important for me to do - incredibly helpful.  I guess it's like someone going out and hitting 100 golf balls to let go of the stress of the day.  At any rate, I have some of these blow out pictures in storage, so when I was needing a canvas, I decided to get creative and paint on top of one of them.  Well, not paint - draw, with pastels.  The surface was very rough so the pastel didn't go into the crevices.  I sprayed the surface many times with fixative to get the pastel to stick to the canvas then sprayed it again when I was finished to seal it (hopefully).  It's still a somewhat fragile surface, but that's OK.  Life and everything in it is transitory.

Another piece people liked a lot was Flinging the Red Scarf. I think they like the energy in it and the attitude of the model as she strides off the stage.

The third painting that people asked me about a lot was Mother and Daughter Jocks Bound by Caution.  If they hadn't read the text that went along with it yet, they wanted to know why the tape was there, and if they had, they wanted me to tell them more about it.  They could understand the women's feelings about being shown naked in public, and they could understand my frustration at having to alter the piece so late in the game, but I think pretty much everyone agreed that the piece and the message behind it are stronger for the tape.  I agree as well.

I had another encounter I wanted to relate from the evening.  I stood in the middle of the room most of the night so I would be accessible to anyone who might have questions.  Sometimes I would go up to people to try to strike up a conversation.  One such time I saw three young men, maybe 18-20 years-old, gawking at the pictures, looking around from their tall selves in amazement.  It seemed to me like they were wondering why anyone would paint women like that?  I asked them what they thought.  They said they weren't sure they liked it because of how the women looked and they wanted to know why I'd painted them.  I told them that I thought it was important for them to know what real women look.  One of these days if they get married, their wives will probably look like one of these beautiful women, and it would be great for them to know that.  The one kid shook his head, "No way, man!  My wife is gonna be hot!"  I told him she might be at first, but that as she aged, her looks would probably change - just like his would - and she would become beautiful in a different way.  I have no idea what those guys went away thinking, but if they went away thinking then the project is doing it's job!  It's interactions like that that make me do this work. 









Self portrait, even more exposed

Today was my first real day with studio time since Dylan's operation July 9th.  I felt raw coming in here, so full of emotions about his surgery, his recovery, and the rest of life.  I wish life were simple and kind.  It isn't always.

I wasted a lot of time until I calmed down enough to draw, then I approached my self-portrait again because it's what's been on my mind this week if art has knocked gently on my door at all.  I think about this piece a lot because it makes me uncomfortable to be drawing it.  And also because I realize I really like it.  The more I work on it, the more beautiful I find it.  As I draw my face, I realize I like the contours of it.  I trust my eyes.  I understand my smile.  The fall of my breasts is comfortable and, oh, so familiar.  Even the crease in my belly has become more benign. At the museum the other day, Chris pointed out a lovely statue of a female nude and showed me that she had the same crease I do.  I could see how slender and beautiful she was, so I began to allow for the possibility that I, too, am beautiful.  My body, too.  I like the openness of my posture.  The vulnerability.  Yes.  This is me.

That's the title:  Yes, this is me.

No more upside down coyness.  No apologies.  No shame.  No embarrassment.  This is part of who I am.  My body.  My flesh.  My sacred flesh.

Nude self-portrait

Sitting here in the hospital for the fourth day in a row while my son heals from major surgery for scoliosis, I am worlds away from my studio.  My mother asserted a couple of days ago that I must be missing being in the studio.  That sounds logical, but I realized that I hadn't considered the possibility whatsoever.  I've been here.  Only here.  Or at home, collapsed, trying to grab an hour's nap and perhaps some decent food before returning here.

Before I left for Dylan's surgery, I wrote a bunch of blogs and scheduled them to be published during the week so I wouldn't leave y'all high and dry in case you were wanting your fix of "Exploring Women's Bodies"!  (Thanks to those of you who read it so regularly, by the way.  I'm truly honored.)  Anyway, I have a few minutes right now because Dylan is asleep, so I thought I'd check in to see how things are going in blog land.

I notice that people have read the blog about Valley more than anything else I've published before.  I think she has quite a lot of friends who love her dearly.  Very cool!

I also noticed, gasp!, that my entry about my nude self-portrait is about to be published this afternoon.  I notice myself having some feelings about that!  I feel shy about showing the painting publicly (even though I was coy and am showing it upside down.  That'll fool 'em!  Yeah, right.)  It's just a bit embarrassing to show my body in all its glory on the internet, nude, with my face attached.  It certainly gives me even more respect for all my models who have come before me down this path. 

So what about it is such a big deal?

Well, I guess we do a lot in our society to keep ourselves from showing our bodies.  We wear clothing.  We undress in gyms in dressing rooms.  We shower in stalls (at least women do - I have heard that men often have common rooms for showers - and have seen that in movies and prisons - where the lack of privacy is shown to lead to rape more times than not - not accurate, according to research I've done, but it makes for more compelling drama - see what happens when you're naked around other people?  Rape.).  We decorate the parts of ourselves which are visible to the public - we wear make-up on our faces, including foundation so our true skin color and texture aren't even visible; we do things to our hair so it looks "just so"; we paint our fingernails and toenails; we shave our legs and underarms; we pierce parts that might, just might, become visible.  So with all that effort that goes into covering up/decorating/hiding, of course it makes sense that we'd feel uncomfortable about having our actual bodies (the undecorated parts) seen in public.

In my self-portrait, my whole front side shows.  My breasts.  My face.  My legs.  My pubic area.  My feet.  Not my hands - they're behind my head.  I don't have on make-up.  I didn't paint my toenails.  I have no memory of whether I'd shaved my legs or not (though you can't tell from the painting - too much texture).  You can tell that I don't wax anything.  I'm just me.  There for you to see.  A bit uncomfortable.  Feeling exposed.  But doing it anyway, because why shouldn't I?  It's my body.  MY body.  My BODY.  Boldness has a power all its own.  This feels like the next right step, so I'm taking it.  With some trepidation.  But taking it anyway.

One of my mottoes is "Feel the fear, but do it anyway."

So here I am!  (Well, actually I don't have an image to post today because we're still in the hospital, and I haven't taken one right-side-up completely finished.  That will come soon enough.  Til then, you can look at the upside-down one from a couple of days ago.)  Exposed.  Open.  Vulnerable.

What a trip.

Thoughts on swimming nude in the Blue Danube

Here's the other response I got to my thoughts about doing a nude self-portrait.  They are a fascinating contrast to Adele's comments yesterday and her feelings about nudist colonies. This one is from an Austrian friend of mine who has been going to the Nude Bathing Beach in Vienna, Austria for many years.  I'm translating from the German, so please excuse any strange language I may not notice!

Dear Susan,
I read your blog today after spending the day in the Gaensehaeufl - the FKK (Freie Koerper Klub - "free body club") (!) part of the gorgeous little island in the Old Danube in the Kaisermuehlen part of Vienna.

... I spent almost the entire day naked (!) with other naked people whom I don't know -
and I felt really, really, really comfortable.  I read and slept under the shade of old poplar trees, sat at a table in the cafe of the FKK Bathing Club naked with naked people (I had a sarong around my hips, many other people did as well, but many were just naked and sat on towels on the chairs) and ate, looked at people, and read... then returned to my chaise lounge - I swam in the Old Danube and later slept on my towel.

It was simply a wonderful, wonderfully beautiful summer day!!!  Just like I love it!

I love feeling free and comfortable around other nude people who are simply being themselves: beautiful, fat, thin, tall, short, tan, completely pale, with a big belly and big breasts, or men with a big belly, or thin and fit, with penises in all shapes and colors -
I like being naked -
of course particularly if no one is looking at me judgmentally or is comparing me negatively with others!
In addition I often go to the public sauna where people are nude, and to a friend's house where we sit in the sauna nude or swim in the nude - just me and them and their two kids who are 5 and 9 years old.

I find it very comfortable to be naked,
today for example, at Ganensehaeufl I ran into a former work colleague.  We spoke very comfortably with each other..., and last Wednesday I saw a married couple, whom I knew from a trip we went on together, naked for the first time there - she's a teacher; he is a famous surgeon...

Today I spent a lot of time comparing myself - with younger, more attractive women, and also with women my age whose bellies are flatter, or who weigh less, or have prettier breasts, or fluffier hair...

I compare myself to others often, I fine myself not as attractive as other women..., but I find the comparisons less painful when I'm naked than when I'm at a party or an art opening where other women have taken the time to get all dressed up and made up.

Susan, I think it's great that you're thinking about doing a self portrait in which you're nude!!!
and I already like the picture that you put in your blog a lot!!!

You are beautiful!
and that you are beautiful - rather, just how beautiful you are - will become even more evident when your face is in the picture also!

Overall my belief is that the person isn't really visible until the face is visible anyway -
with it, of course, comes the vulnerability.  (I think I've already mentioned to you that that's my only (!) criticism of your work - that you don't/can't show the faces of the women you paint -
I think I'm more interested in the whole person - not just in the female body.)

One final note:
Did you get a chance to look at the website I sent you about Paula Modersohn-Becker?  She was the first woman (!) who painted a nude woman (! it was a scandalous thing to do at the time!)  She was also the first female painter who painted herself!   I loved the exhibit of her work - it moved me deeply - and made  me think of you the whole time.

So - I am delighted about the courage and verve with which you take on your artistic work
and especially about the work which you're making public - we'll see what else is to come!  :-)))

With love and hugs,
Gerlinde