for the Art of Love
Love is arguably the most popular subject matter in the Arts. What would Art be without Love in all it’s drama and glory? Nothing feels as good as falling in love and nothing hurts as much as heartbreak. Longing, fantasy and lust fuels the poet. Women are addicted to attention and men are addicted to sex. We see what we desire, and ignore all else, in order to get what we want. So many women fall for the pick up artist claiming to be a photographer. The potential for romance is irresistible.
Love is a verb, not a sentiment.
Sex is not Love
We all have needs. We also have desires, and it’s often difficult to distinguish between the two. I used to have unmet “needs”, until I realized that desire for physical contact is not a need. After all, the so-called “happiest man in the world” is a celibate monk.
I do not expect any physical pleasure from anyone. It’s an unloving demand. Maybe it’s my fault, but I have never had a lover who seems to cherish me, who will massage me, patiently perform satisfying oral sex, brush my hair or make me tea. The men I’ve known carnally (and the few women) seem to just want me to pleasure them, which proves it’s not love. So if I want physical contact with anyone, I have to weigh the cost benefit to me. It’s not that I don’t like sex. In fact, it’s my favourite form of exercise, but sex can lack intimacy when you’re being objectified.
I was deeply in love with my photographer husband, Brian, but the sex was….meh. It didn’t matter at first, but it was on the list of reasons we grew apart. Compatibility is crucial for longevity of a relationship. I tend to fall in love with artists, in hopes they will love me for the same, and the sex is incidental. At first, my delusions are strong, but eventually, reality sets in and I realize that the man’s art and interests trumps mine.
My first love was Jim MacDonald, a handsome self taught pianist. We lived happily and peacefully together for over 3 years until I left to adventure in the Great White North in 1977.
The things we do for love and art
I fell in love with K.C. Tebbutt, brother of Joe Average, in 1979. He and I made art and music together, and then we made a baby. I wanted to end the pregnancy, and scheduled a procedure but K.C. convinced me that he wanted to be a father. I had hopes of the three of us making music and art, and opening an art gallery. So I gave birth to our son, found a space for rent, named and financed the first Gallerie Untitled. Once the gallery was up and running, K.C. left me for another woman who was childless. He never supported me or his son, would lie and steal, and never paid me back for the gallery financing. He refused to show any of my work and I fell out of favour with his artist friends.
Thus began my life as a single mother and artist. I moved into a communal house and studied classical oil painting techniques. These were happy times. My new “family” was creative, playful, health minded, loving and accepting. I found support with a hippy community, and we spent time exploring a New Age lifestyle. I had enough time and support to create large canvases with traditional materials. I explored making rabbit skin glue, stretching canvases, making gesso, making oil paints, gold leaf and calligraphy. My bible was Ralph Meyer’s Artist Handbook. We lived in an old house with a coal furnace in the basement with a lot of space to share. This is the house where my son was born. At the home birth, all the “family” were there as well as three midwives. So many wonderful people and experiences, including musicians, sculptors, and craftspeople, one artist made a harpsichord in the house. A French Canadian family of 6 stayed with us, during their tour as jugglers. There were “breatharians”, “fruitarians” followers of Rajneesh, and other miscreants. We had hardly any contact with the “straight” world during the 80’s. No T.V. or other media, and our goal was to make an alternative community.
Life was good and filled with good people, wholesome food, idyllic lifestyle, personal growth and creativity abounding!
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