An Active Muse
Paulina Olowska
The Painter, 2016
Oil and Acrylic On Canvas
86 5/8 x 66 15/16 inches
220 x 170 cm
Courtesy of the artist and Metro Pictures, New York
The Painter, 2016
Paulina Olowska
This past week, I found my mind rather preoccupied with wonderings on the artist/muse relationship. So, in true Eli form, I scoured article after article trying to make sense of it all. Enthralled, I read about the relationships we have all heard of: the ones that ended badly (usually for the muse), and the ones that created great works. Quickly, it became apparent that the majority of the stories told cast woman as muse and man as artist.
In my studies, I revisited the painful fate of Camille Claudel (an amazing artist who also served as Auguste Rodin’s muse) and found myself wishing there was more written about the triangle of inspiration that existed between Berthe Morisot and the Manet brothers. To no surprise, there was plenty to choose from about Picasso and his many muses (at least six). And, just the other day, I was reminded of the value we put on the mysterious allure of such relationships when I received an email regarding Christie’s upcoming auction of 57 letters shared between Leonard Cohen and his muse, Marianne Ihlen.
Photo: Lissa Gotwals. © 2019 Matrons & Mistresses.
While I sifted through the information, I found myself “musing” again and again…
Was it ever depleting for the Muse—as if a part of them were sacrificed so that the artist might create? Did they sometimes feel self-conscious, frustrated or used?
Meanwhile, did the artist find it scary or disheartening—as if their gift actually rested in another? Did they occasionally identify as needy, desperate or alone?
Mainly, I questioned if it was possible for the artist/muse relationship to exist in a mutually beneficial and life-giving way… Or, was such an arrangement just another example of how one gives their power away?
Perhaps, the seed of these wonderings was first planted when I came across Paulina Olowska’s The Painter during the inaugural NGV Triennial (the National Gallery of Victoria) in 2017. While Olowska often uses herself as the model within her work, artist Sally Ross served as her muse for The Painter because Olowska saw Ross as “a woman who has the knowledge of painting in this moment.” When asked about the piece, Olowska shared: “The subject of womanhood and the representation of women and their place in history as a muse or as an active muse is my primary focus. What I mean by this is that through the painting, the woman is the activist and the creative rather than only the inspiration, as seen throughout male art history.” [1]
That dynamic painted by Olowska’s words— her brush inspired by Ross’ own talent— feels different. Better. A muse/artist relationship built on shared respect and active collaboration is, in fact, something I could live with... Or, as my iPhone likes to poetically autocorrect, something I could “love” with.