On her Belly
As I write this I am viewing this image above the text box and am listening to my iTunes in "shuffle" mode. Suddenly a piece of music comes on. A haunting little 2 minutes and 17 seconds of beautiful, soft, pensive music. I stop to look at what it is. From the movie "Girl With a Pearl Earring" composed by Rachel Portman. How appropriate this music is. How appropriate to the story line and to my creative state of mind. For anyone not aware, the story is about the artist Vermeer and his love for light and colour. But mostly his intriguing relationship with a young model who was also a house-maid for whom he develops a special interest that goes beyond just making her his subject for the famous portrait by the same name.
So I set the iTunes to "repeat 1" and am letting this haunting piece of music accompany me as I view this image and go back to writing about my own feelings. I am suddenly filled with great emotion and sadness. These are feelings of desire and longing. But longing for what. I pride myself as an individual of high morals and yet I am feeling lust and arousal. Feelings that are socially frowned upon. Are my intentions less than honorable? Is the artist supposed to feel this way toward his subject. What is my motive in choosing to photograph the female nude? What artistic benefit is in that? Why am I questioning myself? My sadness turns to anger. What was a feeling of tenderness towards myself, my art and my model has become a source of questioning in an accusatory fashion. Questioning In a way that makes me feel ashamed and immoral when trying to answer. What or who am I angry at? My feelings are real and deep. I feel myself normal in every way. I observe society around me and feel that my life fits very well within it. I am assuming, therefore, that these are normal feelings that come with a reassessment of self and where I am in my life.
The answer seems blunt and brutal, but obviously common enough to have it’s own name. I am uplifted by that fact. “Mid Life”. It is a good term. It implies that if your life until now has been pretty good, you can expect yet another and equally good amount of life to follow before having to accept the ultimate end of life.
But there is another term. “Mid Life Crisis”. Is it this that I am experiencing? My adult sons would, perhaps, express it that way. But is it a crisis? Maybe a need to not accept my age. A need to feel young again. So I am given a dose of youth through having this soulful, young, female beauty laying naked before me. Awakening desires that have been dormant since the time when my age and such desires were defined by youth. No not a crisis. It is coming to terms. Acceptance of age and a celebration of wisdom that comes with age.
My music is still repeating, as its meaning changes along with my mood, as I am writing, which affects how I feel, as I am going through this self-analysis.
I will not arrive to a conclusion this time, but will continue to do my art and continue this process of discovery of self through my art and my emotions.
Where this will lead me I have yet to find out.
Many thanks to babushka for allowing me to post a message sent to me in private, in response to the above statement
Is it not only natural when creating a piece of art as you do to inspire and evoke and reveal and move the viewer, not possible that you too are inspired and moved? - is it not the very fire in your belly that drives you to create another evocative work of art, that keeps driving you as each piece stirs more emotion and sensuality....?
Is it not the greatest accolade when not only is the viewer moved and aroused, that the artist is too?
This is truly a pinnacle piece Sol - you are only seeing your own work for the first time, as we, the viewer see it.
This work, this light, this composition, the emotion, the arousal, the heat that is stirred ... it is all coming from within our own human instincts - you have put it there for us and you now at last are enjoying it the way we do.
Welcome Sol, to the art of Sol Lang :)
To see more of my work, please go to my web site