I’m so pleased to have on my blog today Emma Lombard, historical fiction writer and Twitter expert. She has agreed to share about her writing and her best Twitter tips, so if you’re in the… More
Hubby Barry and I recently visited Louisville, where we participated in the Spalding at 21C: Voice and Vision reading at the 21C Museum Hotel, along with four other talented writers. Besides me and Barry, the lineup included Misha Feigin, Ellyn Lichvar, Alan J. Naslund, and Vickie Weaver. Celebrated author Sena Jeter Naslund emceed.
When the award-winning poet Misha was introduced at the reading, I remember thinking, “Why was I invited? I don’t have nearly his credentials.” Since I was the last to read, I was pretty nervous, but the crowd was so welcoming I quickly felt comfortable, even though such wonderful writing came before me.
Because of copyrighted artwork in the reading area, Barry and I didn’t take photos of our actual reading, but we did catch some shots beforehand.
Barry read from his novel-in-progress, and I was delighted as always at his lyrical language. Filigrees of cigarette smoke? Yes, please!
During the event, I did my first public reading from Victorine, my novel which is forthcoming from Fleur-de-Lis Press this year. I felt almost possessed by Victorine during my reading, she who is remembered by history as Manet’s favorite model, although she went on to painting success herself. I have no illusions about who’s in charge of her story (she is!), and I’m honored to be a part of the process.
We enjoyed this colorful display, only one of many intriguing exhibits. And yes, that’s Mr. Barry D. humoring me by standing before this.
The next day we drove on to Nashville, where we visited the renamed Frist, now the Frist Art Museum. We went specifically to see the Frida and Diego exhibit. Please try to get there, if you haven’t already!
If you haven’t noticed by now, I am drawn to strong female figures. Victorine is certainly one, as is Frida. It seemed natural to me to go from reading about Victorine to viewing Frida’s dynamic paintings.
May 24–September 2, 2019
Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, and Mexican Modernism from the Jacques and Natasha Gelman Collection
Frida’s strokes are measured, while her colors are freely sprinkled. I like her restrained style, because her subject matter and her use of tones are so extreme that if she had used thick paint or wild brushing, it would be too much. Her manner of painting also tells me something I suspected: she comes across as passionate beyond compare, and she is, but she also controls her image. Nicely done, Frida. Nicely done.
Barry and I also made a stop by the Speed Museum with a dear friend while we were in Louisville, and The Frist had a surrealism exhibit as well as the Mexican Modernism, but those are both topics for another post.
Have you seen any of Frida’s paintings in person? If so, what did you think of them? Do you agree or disagree with my take on her work?
When I heard about this book, I knew I’d buy it. There are books like that. Since I’m an Impressionism geek and feminist, when I heard that Paula Butterfield had written a novel about Berthe Morisot, one of the few women on the forefront of the Impressionist movement, I was thrilled.
Then I learned that my Victorine Meurent, the main character of my novel, makes an appearance in La Luministe, and I squealed. (A fun thing is that Morisot shows up in my book briefly as well.)
If someone had asked me what I’d like a novel written about, I’d have said this. And I wasn’t disappointed.
But before I discuss the content, let’s look at the cover. You’ve got this amazing painting, At the Ball, by Morisot, which depicts a woman with a fan. Here, though, the painting is partially, tantalizingly, obscured. If you continue your gaze downward, you’ll be rewarded by a bit of what we assume is an easel, complete with a lovely, paint-spattered brush at the bottom. That brush! I want to hold it.
As one who has carefully studied mid-19th century Parisian art history and its chief players, I greatly admired and enjoyed the story, once I allowed my gaze to stray beyond that fabulous cover. In fact, Butterfield assumes the mantle of our “luministe” as she enlightens us about what it was like to be a painter during a time when respectable women did not paint beyond pretty little scenes to make them seem accomplished to suitable husbands.
Though artist Berthe Morisot sustains a lifelong longing for the unobtainable Edouard Manet, she manages to break free from both society and familial expectations enough to become a painter of note herself in the newly bourgeoning Impressionist movement. In the end, she ultimately finds herself at “repose,” as one of Manet’s paintings of her is titled.
This book is moving, well researched, and told with painstaking detail. It was a delight to read.
In Victorine, my historical novel coming out in the next few months, I write about the black choker Edouard Manet paints Victorine wearing. I imagine it as his bootlace, called into service on the spot.
Later, I give Victorine adoring fans who purchase and sport chokers with her as Olympia in lockets. It hardly offsets the cruelty she experiences in the streets after the “scandalous” nude painting was exhibited.
But Victorine is not the only one of Manet’s models to wear chokers. While I wouldn’t dismiss out of hand someone psychoanalyzing the painter and his predilection for encircling his model’s necks, I prefer to chalk it up to his respect and regard for fashion. Few paint fabric and fashion of the day the way he did.
When I stumbled upon this collage on Instagram, I knew I had to share it with you. Thanks, guzelonlu, for this lineup.
Four of the images pictured are Victorine. Can you tell which?
Bonus points if you can tell me the titles of those paintings. First one to comment gets a shoutout from me on Twitter.
#Manet #ArtHistory #Art #Impressionism
Manet and Modern Beauty: The Artist’s Last Years, edited by Scott Allan, Emily A. Beeny, and Gloria Groom, is the catalogue for the eponymous exhibit of Édouard Manet’s later works. Filled with lush color representations of the paintings and ephemera on display, the expansive book also delights with authoritative, informative essays for those who might not be as familiar with Manet’s life and painting, or for those eager to learn current theories about the painter.
Later in life Manet gravitated toward unabashedly painting fashion, flowers, and fruit. Unlike his political and hierarchical-upsetting earlier works, he seemed pleased to focus on painting what simply appealed to his eyes during his later years when he was unwell and had limited mobility.
Two notable works in the collection are Jeanne (Spring) and Autumn (Méry Laurent), the only two of a planned set of four to represent the seasons that Manet completed.
The Conservatory, Plum Brandy, Waitress Serving Beer, and the Café–Concert are some of the other paintings depicting modern life and fashion that preoccupied Manet in the second half of his career. No one paints a good mug of beer like Manet. It’s as if he’s anticipating drinking it as he creates it. Equally, no one uses color quite in the same way, either. If you don’t know his paintings by the hands, you’ll know them by the way he places colors adjacent to one another. He evidences his joy in flowers by the care he takes in drawing them. His palette makes flowers look even more beautiful than they do in real life. It’s the work of someone who knows he’s dying and wants to gather to himself all of the beauty and color he will have to leave behind.
The editors of the book thank Juliet Wilson-Bureau, and with good reason: her extensive Manet scholarship is deeply felt in the exhibit. Essay authors and contributors to the collection include Carol Armstrong, Helen Burnham, Leah Lehmbeck, Devi Ormond, Douglas MacLennan, Nathan Daly, Catherine Schmidt Patterson, Bridget Alsdorf, Jamie Kwan, and Samuel Rodary. They write on topics as varied as Manet and the Salon to the materials he used, a fascinatingly deep dive. His “little nothings” are the subject of Armstrong’s essay, lending weight to something Manet himself pretended to dismiss.
The essays are engaging and necessary reading for the exhibit goer (preferably devoured before attending the show and again after), and perhaps even more necessary for those who cannot attend. For Manet aficionados, this book will both whet your appetite to see the paintings and to study him more in-depth than ever before. What the authors spark is a hunger for examining the paintings for oneself.
This volume will satisfy the curiosity of the most avid fan. It delves into the provenance of every painting. It depicts his “scribbles” on envelopes and his attempts at painting tambourine skins. It reprints correspondence to and from Manet about his paintings. As a souvenir, an exhibit guidebook, and a textbook, Manet and Modern Beauty is one for the art lover’s library.
An important note for would-be viewers: a few of the paintings are not going to be shown at both the Art Institute in Chicago and the J. Paul Getty Museum in L.A., (the two museums which will host the show), so consult the book to know if your favorite will be at the museum where you will attend the show.
Victorine. I spent months researching about her, writing about her. Dreaming of her.
She was Edouard Manet’s favorite model. She was her own favorite model, too, when she went to art school and became a painter! Needless to say, this novel is historical fiction, in case that’s your jam. (I adore it!)
The collage above shows paintings of her not only by Manet, but also by Alfred Stevens.
It seems I’ve shared the news everywhere but over here. Guess what? She’s on her way!Late this year or early next, I will my book about her in my hands. I can’t wait!
She will be published by Fleur-de-Lis Press, and I couldn’t be happier!
Did I mention this is my first novel? Surely you can imagine how much happy dancing has been happening in our household! I even wrote an essay about it. More on that later!
In the weeks and months to come I’ll be sharing more of the Victorine story: what drew me to her, my discoveries along the way, and more about the paintings she sat for. More of her history.
If you want to know more, please follow me on the social medias: Twitter (@dremadrudge), Facebook (Drema Sizemore Drudge), and Instagram (Drema Drudge).
Hubby and I are launching a podcast, Writing All the Things, in June 2019, and I daresay Victorine news will spill over to it as well. You can learn more about it at: writingallthethings.com. Or join our Facebook Writing All the Things Podcast Group.
What would you like me to share with you about Victorine? I’m open.
I’m so happy to announce the release of Elementary Ways of Managing Your Pain by a writing client of mine, massage therapist Nancy Snavely.
First of all, let me say what an honor it was to work with this dream client. Nancy came to me with an outline and a timeline, too. She knew exactly when she wanted to finish this book and what she wanted it to say. Guess what? She put a copy of the printed book in my hands today, right on schedule. Y’all, she’s an inspiration. She kicks @ss!
One morning when we met up at a café to discuss her book, she looked at me and said, “You’re in pain, aren’t you?” I hadn’t flinched or anything that I was aware of, but I certainly was hurting. She had me position a pillow in a spot on my back that immediately made me feel better. Here I was supposed to be helping her, and she was helping me. In case you can’t tell, I think she’s amazing.
If you’ve ever suffered pain (who hasn’t?) or know someone who has, you’ll want to read her book. Nancy’s book gives tips and tricks for you to try on your own, since she’s only got two hands and limited client slots. Nancy has numerous certifications, countless testimonials from clients, and keen powers of observation; her healing hands have provided relief to many. I, for one, am thankful she took the time to write this so others can learn from her. I know I did.
The book is also (whether intentionally or not) part memoir. Nancy opens up and shares how she came to the career path she chose. She vulnerably tells difficult parts of her story, which forms trust between her and the reader. Let me say, I had to buck up and tell myself not to cry while editing parts of her story. (And, since I’m not made of stone, I might not have been entirely successful at not crying.) But if anyone is a survivor, Nancy is. If anyone is stronger because of what she’s been through, it’s Nancy. I admire her greatly.
I may have been her editor, but she did more than her fair share of teaching me. Her book reminded me of the importance of things like simply drinking water. Of doing movement you love. As her title says — elementary things.
But it’s also full of innovative, cutting-edge methods. Nancy knows what the trends are; she doesn’t permit herself to get rusty. The book will likely mention things you’ve never heard of, such as cupping and EFT.
Her book’s available on Amazon, so go get it! And if (when!) you do, comment below and let me know, won’t you?
ELEMENTARY WAYS OF MANAGING YOUR PAIN: A Massage Therapist’s advice for life-altering relief from pain https://www.amazon.com/dp/1795294639/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_i_wR3KCbCTDN087
You can learn more about her work at: functionalholistichealth.com.
I meant to write this post before Thanksgiving. Clearly, I didn’t get around to it. Sorry. But since I was thrilled to recently run across this well-loved secondhand copy of Cranberry Thanksgiving, a book I fell for when I was a little girl in New Jersey, I still want to blog about it. You are what you read.
I also enjoy cranberry sauce maybe too much, so maybe this book has had undue influence on my eating habits as well.
The book shares the story of young Maggie and her grandmother who live adjacent to a New England cranberry bog. Grandmother is well known for her famous cranberry bread that she made every Thanksgiving. She guards her recipe carefully. When Maggie invites a friend, Mr. Whiskers, to share the holiday meal with them, Grandmother is irritated that the man she considers uncouth and overly hairy is coming to dinner.
She prefers Mr. Horace, a well-dressed man with a gold cane who is nevertheless alone for Thanksgiving; she invites him to eat with them. And she doesn’t trust Mr. Whiskers. Not to spoil the story, but the prized recipe nearly gets stolen and it turns out that Mr. Horace owns a bakery, so…
Here’s the recipe, in case you’re feeling like doing some post-Thanksgiving baking.
Sorry, no great and grand lesson here. No writing instruction to speak of. Just a good memory, a heartwarming book about people not being who they appear to be, and what may well be a tasty recipe. If you try it, let me know. Alas, I haven’t tried it yet.