Pretty Dead
“Jared and I went to the Los Angeles County Museum to look at the Rodin sculptures. The air smelled of tar from the pits of inky black stuff bubbling up from the lawn. We held hands and wandered along the winding paths, among the statues of prehistoric animals. The day was overcast but warm, and I wore a silk Pucci sundress and Christian Louboutin sandals. Jared had on his usual jeans and was carrying his sketchbook. He said he liked to sketch from sculptures because the forms were so clear and ...solid.
In the museum the Danaïd lay on her side, with her bony back and her hair covering her face as if she were grieving, transforming into water, the marble liquid as a river. Saint John the Baptist’s severed head. A pianist’s hand. The female faun kneeling, her face long and animalic. The old woman who had once been a great beauty. The man on his knees before his naked idol. I told Jared that I had seen these sculptures in the museum in Paris—the Hôtel Biron, where Rodin had rented space to work.MoreLess
In the museum the Danaïd lay on her side, with her bony back and her hair covering her face as if she were grieving, transforming into water, the marble liquid as a river. Saint John the Baptist’s severed head. A pianist’s hand. The female faun kneeling, her face long and animalic. The old woman who had once been a great beauty. The man on his knees before his naked idol. I told Jared that I had seen these sculptures in the museum in Paris—the Hôtel Biron, where Rodin had rented space to work.MoreLess
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