On women, models and art

The Cup of Tea, Mary Cassatt.

I don’t really know what to write into Google. ‘Women photographing women’ takes me to lesbian porn sites. I stumble across the website of someone who’s made a project on ageing called A Human is a Human is A Human. She’s included a self portrait of herself in a ballerina outfit. I find her looking ridiculous with her large tutu, so I keep googling.

The bistro I’m in, is in the street where I once attended a rooftop party a friend held together with the other models she lived with. I remember climbing up to their terrace, with the most brilliant view of Paris. None of her colleagues seemed to notice their picturesque surroundings; they only spoke about all the food they were going to consume. An American guy showed me what he’d brought: ‘Look at this BIG bag of chicken wings. We’re just going to eat and eat and eat!’ Another was tossing a salad with hungry eyes, and yet another was barbecuing some large hot dogs. It felt so superfluous, a feast for the anorexic, I can’t remember if I ate at all that night; their feast put me off food for some time.

I type woman + art. I am determined to find examples of older women in art who are preferably both happy and clothed. There must be some. Many images appear on the screen. It is nearly impossible to find some where the body is not in focus. The Cup of Tea, a painting by Mary Cassatt from 1881 is interesting. Showing the daily ritual of afternoon tea, a wealthy woman, leaning back, pink dress, hat and gloves, a gold brink on the cup. Self contained. Very upper class. Back then they didn’t have stress as we do, or anxiety over what they had said the night before. Or they probably did. Reading about her life, her country home, her friendship with Degas, I’m envious of the life she led in this city before me.