An Artist's Wife

Sometimes Clancy will ask me why I love him. He can be so moody, he is afraid these moods will eventually push me away and I will grow bored of him. I just smile, how could I possibly grow bored of the most original person I have ever met? “That terrible mood of depression of whether it's any good or not is what is known as The Artist's Reward.” Ernest Hemingway I remember when we were first dating we watched Ed Norris in Pollock. I wondered as I watched if I could be an artist’s wife. Would Clancy lock himself in a room for days on end, would he become a man I barely recognized in the end? Is this why he wanted me to watch the movie? Did he want to make sure I was prepared for the life of an artist’s wife? “It is only too true that a lot of artists are mentally ill- it's a life which, to put it mildly, makes one an outsider. I'm all right when I completely immerse myself in work, but I'll always remain half crazy.” Vincent van Gogh In the end I think the lesson he ...

He was rolled up in the basement at his sisters place, safe but hidden, almost forgotten I think. He was one of the first pieces Clancy had created. He was unfinished, and so handsome, his gaze I found intense. He was another painting, ironically enough that his brother-in-law also was interested in. Clancy always laughs that both Serge and I are Gemini's and how alike we are. It seemed we also have the same taste in art work. Man Rinaldo would become a Christmas present I would get that year. Me became the second piece of art work I owned.

When I first saw her, she was rolled up. She had been put away, stored at his sisters home. He probably needed the stretcher for another painting at the time. I am unsure how long she had been put away when I first saw her. I wanted her the moment I saw her, I told him. He told me his brother-in-law wanted this one. It seemed to me if he wanted it as badly as I did it would not still be rolled up. We were dating at the time, we barely even knew each other really. Clancy had come over for dinner, and while I was cooking he brought her out. I heard the click of a staple gun, by the time I turned around he had hung her on the wall and said he wanted me to have her. Until that day I had not owned a peace of art. My walls were covered with prints I had paid a lot of money for, I considered them to be art work, but owning my first oil painting - this was art I was proud to call mine. Her name is Porno Girl. He found her in a porno magazine. She is not the best example to reflect his style ...