Cupid Strikes

It happened today. I walked into a gallery in Chicago and saw some art which knocked my socks off, giving me a feeling very similar to being struck by Cupid's arrow of love. Man, it hits and I go limp, start grinning, and just feel all warm and tingly! Once I finished breathing in the work and asking about the artist and doing the mental gymnastics about whether I could afford it (no!) or had room for it in my little apartment (no, again), I started thinking about the phenomenon of falling in love over and over and over again, something which I feel I do with art. Maybe with people, too, but not as frequently. Is it being fickle?

I have two kids. When pregnant with my second child, I sometimes wondered if I could possibly love a second child as much as I loved my firstborn, my son. That love for my son was so unbelievably strong and powerful, I really didn't know how it would be possible to love another child as much. That is, I didn't know until my daughter, my second child, was born and my heart opened up, expanded, and I discovered I had the ability to love more and more and more, that love isn't finite with limits.

Obviously, one does not have the same kind of relationship with art as with people. Sometimes art is bought and sold, shown and put away, and the back and forth interaction is, in the end, limited. But that powerful emotional response which art can evoke is its own kind of falling in love, and I know that my visual heart's power to expand and love more is as present as that of my relationship heart. I was just talking to a friend about this who works in the theater world, and was glad to learn that when he comes across a great performance, he, too, experiences that kapow!, that unmistakable expression of hope and optimism that love is truly all about. Fickle? I think not.

(Sculpture by Richard Taylor at Gallery KH, Chicago)

The Men in My Life

Last week I gave a party, a really big party in my really little house, for approximately 65 people. I insisted on cooking everything for the party myself, as cooking and entertaining are among the ways I enjoy giving to others, and this was a group of people to whom I really wanted to give a gift. Among the attendees were artists, friends, colleagues, and customers, and we all ate and drank and talked and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Nestled among all the other party guests were three important men in my life: my son who acted as sous chef, my husband from whom I am separated, and my lover who had recently ended our romance. I was happy that they were all there together (though I made no effort to introduce said husband and lover to one another!)as they each mean a lot to me in very different ways and I continue to want all three of them in my life, though not in their former roles.

My son is no longer my boy, but rather a man working on making an independent life for himself as an actor. He has chosen a difficult career path, and it is not being easy on him. To see him at ease at this party, handling the multi-tasking kitchen responsibilities with aplomb, made me proud, and yet it was such a different pride from that I felt when he was younger. I am proud to know this man, to have an adult relationship with him, and to watch him as he experiments, succeeds and fails, all on his own terms.

My husband (since I am technically still married, though separated) wanted to be at the party, and it was wonderful to see him handling the situation on his own, particularly after the setbacks he has experienced from his brain injury. He and I shared many years together exploring much of the world of art, and as this was a night all about art and artists, I was glad that in spite of no longer being a couple, we could both enjoy this world which was equally important to us both.

And then, my former lover, from whom I have sufficiently recovered from heartbreak and with whom I am navigating the waters of friendship: why had I invited him and why was he there? While it is true that I had been crazy for him, and was deeply, painfully hurt by his rejection, I also know that I don't fall in love easily, and the love doesn't go away easily, if at all, for me. And he and I, too, enjoy the world of art and artists together, and hope to continue doing that in some way or form going forward. Did we smooch in a corner for a second and forget for a moment that we were no longer doing that kind of thing? Of course we did; the chemistry is still there. But the relationship with this man, as with the others, has also moved along.

I went home with none of these men that night. My former lover left, my son and husband helped clean up, and I went to bed - alone, happy, comfortable with all three relationships.

(Sculptures by Suki Diamond, ceramic artist)

All great things must begin somewhere

3 years ago I was about to start a business. It had a concept, it had a reason to be, it even had a name (50/50). The concept was clothing (no duh if you know me) for mature women (ie probably over 40, or 50) who may have lost their waistlines but not their sense of style. The idea was to develop a core group of clothes + artistic accents, with the notion that mature women "need" little, but still get a kick out of great style, out of making a statement in the way they dress, out of expressing their sexuality, their individuality, their confidence in being themselves. The rest of the concept had to do with the fact that from the get-go, the business would be equally focused on promoting self-esteem in girls, with a percentage of the profits going to fund programs enabling girls to develop into their fullest potential. It was a great concept; I knew what it would look like and when I told my business plan to others, it was greeted with tremendous support for both the concept and for me - me! - launching it. I had partners ready to work with me and funders ready to fund. But two things happened: 1) I realized I was scared to take on all that responsibility and 2) my husband of 30 years suffered a traumatic brain injury the week I began serious business meetings, an injury which permanently altered him, affected my impending plans to leave the marriage and explore a new business, and totally altered my sense of what was coming next. So I dumped my business plans and dealt with life as it now presented itself.

Fast forward 3 years, and now I am running a business, albeit not one I began, but one which feeds my soul and allows me to interact with hundreds of artists and art-loving people. And I am separated from my husband and dealing - whoa Nelly! - with the whole new world of being single and knowing myself and dating and sex and all that stuff. And I still care a lot about clothing for women my age and get lots requests for advice about fashion and home decor as well as get lots of comments about my style. Many people suggest that my life these days would be a good movie. I say that that movie would have to be called "It's Complicated Up in the Air". I also say that reality is stranger than fiction, and thus the beginning of this blog.

My intention is to explore and share this road I'm traveling, the road of style and art and love and self discovery. I know this road is 50/50: half art/half feeling, half style/half deep exploration of the way girls and women experience love. I hope it's interesting and of value, and welcome your comments.
Lisa