Models and Muses
So much jealousy is self generated, as product of a fantasy that others are getting more, having more fun, taking more drugs, behaving badly, getting more sex, enjoying life too much or at least more than I am.
Most of the time the jealousy is its own worst enemy and what is imagined holds no resemblance to reality. For instance, when I speak of muses and models the general public conjures up sex, sex, and sex. All that sex would possibly inspire, but where would be the time to express or follow up on the creative exploitation of the inspiration from sex, sex, sex. For example, my aunt is a painter. She is single and if you look at her paintings you notice the portraits of many men, handsome and sexy men. These are portraits she has kept, not commissions. Why does she have these men on her studio walls? Some may or may not have been lovers. But they each have been models. I modeled for her several times in my life. Painting is not a slap and a dash, artist in a garret, starving for art. Art takes the time it takes and if you are sitting for a portrait, it seems to last eons.
My aunt told me why she painted so many men. It was to place them across from her, where she could watch them and they couldn't be grabbing her, yes, grabbing her ass. In fact, she said, while she painted these portraits she would be working on two paintings on two easels. The model could see the face of neither canvas as she worked. She also had a rule about unfinished paintings. No one was allowed to see a work in progress. It always gave the wrong idea of the work and invited unwanted suggestions. Only after the painting was signed did she show the sitter. Otherwise, she covered her work with drapery.
Did she have amorous relations with these men? That was her business. I know of one model where this was not a question. People fantasize too much about what they don't know.
The same is true or truer about muses. I have gotten to the point that to call someone a muse is a no no. There are too many wrong assumptions made by those who do not need the fuel that inspiration provides. So, how can I explain that a painting or a piece of music or a cherub in my dream or a fragment from an email has sparked a thought, leading to a new work.
Or that my cat, Lucy, still pops up in my dreams to point out something only an old cat might know.
Lucy was not a model. She remains a marvelous muse.