Art

One of the nice things about the art world is how incestuous it is. Andy Warhol painted Marilyn Monroe, Gracy Slick painted Bob Marley, Tracy Chevalier wrote a book called, “Girl with a Pearl Earring” from a Dutch painting she saw, inventing a story behind the portrait. I’m always inspired by art, whether it’s another musician or a beautiful sculpture or just a simple sketch; art makes me want to create more art. So I was sweetly surprised when, following a show, I was contacted by a painter, James Poff, who was interested in my posing for a watercolor. Intrigued, flattered and curious to say the least, I accepted. After sending me a few scans of his artwork I was convinced this would be a beneficial experience for the both of us. On a cool Sunday afternoon, I drove up 94 West to St. Cloud for the 3rd weekend in a row for a sitting at James’s place. I arrived early, we deliberated over outfits and finally sat down for pictures and initial sketches. Very quickly I got caught up in the excitement of posing. The quiet focus involved is practically overpowering. I felt almost smothered in silence. Weird I know. Finally, we got down to some serious immobility; I had to maintain my position for 20 minutes, then a quick 2 minute stretch, repeated over and over again. James was kind and patient throughout the ordeal, but the minute he mentioned a finger or ear being the “center of attention” for the next few moments I instantly needed to move that part of my body. I itched in the strangest places, sweat was running in rivulets down the center of my back, soaking my poor little bottom which was precariously balanced on a fragile bar stool. Accustomed to the strain and stress of yoga, boxing, walking and aerobics, I had mistakenly assumed this statuesque pose would be a breeze for my healthy carcass. I was sadly mistaken. A mere 60 seconds into the sitting sweat began to trickle down my back. The loose and languid pose James had tried valiantly to manipulate was becoming a mockery. There wasn’t a serene bone in my body; I ached from head to toe and every crevice in between. My mind was focused on remaining still so my body was reacting completely opposite. I was a miserable failure. I seriously hope the sitting was productive for Mr. Painter man and I'm glad I got to be a part of it, but I'm just not cut out for this kind of physical labor. Oh well...chalk it up to a new experience I guess : )