Friday, June 20, 2003
Can I help you?, Sex and Lies continues... Tuesday, June 17, 2003
He's a sculptor. Tanned and just returned to Boston from a residency in Roswell New Mexico. He's looking for studio space. His name is Robin. I am blinded by him. The moth drawn to a flame now has meaning.
It's part of my job to help artists find suitable work space. "Can I help you?" I ask. We both know in that moment exactly what I mean. The rest is a dance.
He needs some temporary space immediately while he looks for something more permanent. I happen to know about an available loft in a building close to the gallery, I give him the contact information, we chat for a bit, then he leaves. Renee is looking at me shaking her head. I'm flushed, I giggle, "he is beautiful".
The next day, he returns to thank me. The space will work for him. He is using it as a working studio while living in a temporary apartment on Newbury Street till he finds a live/work loft big enough to accomodate his stone carving. He lets me know that he will be in his new place working and he'd be happy to show me some things, if I feel like stopping in.
I have never in my life gone looking for a man, gone to his place to search him out, to see him, to know him. That day I went to find him. His studio is flooded with sunlight. His back is to me as he seems to be working on a plaster relief. It is a contemporary version of "The Three Graces". It is simultaneously classical and of our time. I'm impressed. I'm standing behind him, looking over his shoulder. He slowly backs up a step. My breasts just graze his back. I am acutely aware of every cell and pore in my body. He keeps gently pressing backward. I think I may die. The spell is suddenly broken. He turns to face me. He looks down at my feet, they are bare in sandals. "I need a model for feet for a piece I'm working on. Are you available?"
HERE COMES TROUBLE, Sex and Lies continued...
I have sexual amnesia when I try to remember those most intimate moments with Pete. Sex had lured him to me but my attraction to him was a more conscious, calculated thing. Once, after we had been married about six years I suggested we consider having other sexual relationships within the context of our marriage. Marge and Dave were an extremely attractive couple with a little girl about Erika's age. They were close friends. I always felt an underlying sexual tension when we were all together and I guess I had them in mind when I made this suggestion. Pete fumed. He nearly popped a gasket. It's the last time this idea is brought up.
Construction on my Fort Point studio continues. I'm also working part-time as a gallery director in the BVAU gallery on Washington St in Boston's North End. The organization moved there when we lost our luxury digs in Government Center. It was a great job for me. Flexible hours, I shared the position with my good friend Renee. She and I each had a desk facing the gallery entrance so we could see everyone who came in. Somedays we would be there together planning exhibitions, meeting other artists, writing the grants that helped to keep the whole operation afloat. My lawyer friend Frank was still very active with the group. He donated tons of time and expertise to our cause which was artists rights. He was also looking to date some cute gals.
One warm, sunny afternoon Renee and I are both sitting at our desks. There is a bulletin board by the main entrance where we post notices of available loft space, exhibition opportunities, jobs, etc. I tended to be the more gregarious so the job of greeting visitors and trying to get new members for the organization generally fell to me. On this day in 1980, I glance towards the door. The most adorable looking man I have ever seen is standing there scanning the bulletin board. He glances my way. I am mesmerized. I rise from my desk like I'm levitating. Renee stares at me and mumbles, "Uh-oh, here comes trouble".
He's a sculptor. Tanned and just returned to Boston from a residency in Roswell New Mexico. He's looking for studio space. His name is Robin. I am blinded by him. The moth drawn to a flame now has meaning.
It's part of my job to help artists find suitable work space. "Can I help you?" I ask. We both know in that moment exactly what I mean. The rest is a dance.
He needs some temporary space immediately while he looks for something more permanent. I happen to know about an available loft in a building close to the gallery, I give him the contact information, we chat for a bit, then he leaves. Renee is looking at me shaking her head. I'm flushed, I giggle, "he is beautiful".
The next day, he returns to thank me. The space will work for him. He is using it as a working studio while living in a temporary apartment on Newbury Street till he finds a live/work loft big enough to accomodate his stone carving. He lets me know that he will be in his new place working and he'd be happy to show me some things, if I feel like stopping in.
I have never in my life gone looking for a man, gone to his place to search him out, to see him, to know him. That day I went to find him. His studio is flooded with sunlight. His back is to me as he seems to be working on a plaster relief. It is a contemporary version of "The Three Graces". It is simultaneously classical and of our time. I'm impressed. I'm standing behind him, looking over his shoulder. He slowly backs up a step. My breasts just graze his back. I am acutely aware of every cell and pore in my body. He keeps gently pressing backward. I think I may die. The spell is suddenly broken. He turns to face me. He looks down at my feet, they are bare in sandals. "I need a model for feet for a piece I'm working on. Are you available?"
HERE COMES TROUBLE, Sex and Lies continued...
I have sexual amnesia when I try to remember those most intimate moments with Pete. Sex had lured him to me but my attraction to him was a more conscious, calculated thing. Once, after we had been married about six years I suggested we consider having other sexual relationships within the context of our marriage. Marge and Dave were an extremely attractive couple with a little girl about Erika's age. They were close friends. I always felt an underlying sexual tension when we were all together and I guess I had them in mind when I made this suggestion. Pete fumed. He nearly popped a gasket. It's the last time this idea is brought up.
Construction on my Fort Point studio continues. I'm also working part-time as a gallery director in the BVAU gallery on Washington St in Boston's North End. The organization moved there when we lost our luxury digs in Government Center. It was a great job for me. Flexible hours, I shared the position with my good friend Renee. She and I each had a desk facing the gallery entrance so we could see everyone who came in. Somedays we would be there together planning exhibitions, meeting other artists, writing the grants that helped to keep the whole operation afloat. My lawyer friend Frank was still very active with the group. He donated tons of time and expertise to our cause which was artists rights. He was also looking to date some cute gals.
One warm, sunny afternoon Renee and I are both sitting at our desks. There is a bulletin board by the main entrance where we post notices of available loft space, exhibition opportunities, jobs, etc. I tended to be the more gregarious so the job of greeting visitors and trying to get new members for the organization generally fell to me. On this day in 1980, I glance towards the door. The most adorable looking man I have ever seen is standing there scanning the bulletin board. He glances my way. I am mesmerized. I rise from my desk like I'm levitating. Renee stares at me and mumbles, "Uh-oh, here comes trouble".
