The Blog as Muse...

Sshhh! I've only got a few moments. GJ is in the bath and I can hear him about to let the water out. He manages to make sounds just as if a runaway hippo has landed in the midst of my bathroom for a surreptitious wallow... I love that word, 'surreptitious' - I haven't used it in ages. Note to self...

Is it still the Christmas holidays? Is there life at all out there in the world? Is there a future after eating more at Christmas than said runaway hippo could consume? Have I missed the sales?

I am wallowing at home, I must admit. Grizzler is also home from College and takes up more space than a herd of giraffe. That's when he's awake. Which doesn't appear to be that often. When he is, he wanders through the living room languidly, nibbling leaves off the top of trees, and only yesterday I saw him stoop to take his wallet from the top of what I like to call my Belgian bureau. I need a step-ladder to reach the top of it. He merely looks down upon its form, and secretes things up there he doesn't want us short folk to find.

The large cream leather sofa that we bought as a family seven years ago is proving otherwise - And we have all out-grown it. Grizz slumps to his full length at one end, tippy-tappying away, communicating with other teen alien life-forms, including his sweet girlfriend - I sit at the other end, laptop on the arm of the chaise longue bit, legs tucked beneath me, reading blogs and ancestor hunting. ...GJ now has to sit on the floor. The only part of him that is able to attain the sofa when we are both ensconced, Grizz and I, is his elbow. His face looks a bit like Queen Victoria's did when she was wont to say, "We are not amused!"

My husband complains profusely at our irritating tippy-tappy getting in the way of his watching endless re-runs on the Discovery and History channels. Hence not blogging in ages...

Thank you for all of your good wishes. I wish you well and hope that all your plans for New Year are splendiferous.

Weather has been particularly crap here. Lots of snowfall, treacherous roads. So, we were reduced to only going out hunter-gatherer style, for weeks. Today, low mist lies in this part of the Coquet Valley like snow-white candy floss. It's beautiful. There has been a bit of a melt and the roads are beginning to re-appear from their icy tombs. ...I hope for an outing. The skies are white-pink and blue.

I would like to buy some inserts for the new Botanic Filofax I treated myself to for my Christmas stocking...

Yes, of course I treated myself. If I didn't, who would?

As it was, the actual diary part dated from 2008, so not even last year, hence its bargain price ticket! Filofax describes it as "young, funky and utterly now" - Very me then!

I have two Filofaxes - I was feeling a little bad about that, the avarice of it, as it were, until I just read THIS at the English Muse's blog HERE. I found her bloglette while looking for some suitable photos on Google.

I shall return thence for more reading, when I am banned from the tippy-tappy very shortly. I heard the hippo moving about upstairs earlier. Only a few short mo's until I hear his tender trotters traverse the stairs...

Anyhoo, this blogger, a journalist for the LA Times, has seven, and uses one purely for Inspiration - I love the idea of that - Living inside your mind and exploiting your creative urges so. I might use my electric pink pleather Filofax that GJ gave me several years ago, just for that.

Then again, using one as an address book, also seems an interesting option. Particularly when my horizons are starting to expand with the threat of beginning my voluntary Psychotherapeutic Counselling placement, perhaps in a doctors' practice, (as soon as I can find anyone gullible enough to take me on), at some point in the New Year. I'll need to be muchly organised then...

My goddess, how I have rambled today.

You see, without the regular discipline of being a Bloggerista, just how quickly do I return to being a Rambler Without A Cause...

So, to end, because it's about time to let you get on with far more important things - Here, I have been and no further, relaxing at home, slobbing about, scarcely even combing the wrinkles out of my hair some days, and I really feel as if I would like to be some place I would find even more relaxing...

Like here. Well, wouldn't you? ~ Ciao, mes amis - Mwah!

Take My Advice (Tongue In Cheek, as it is!): Neither a Follower nor a Reader be!

Well, that's it, mes chums - In the time that it took me to wolf down a modest (yes it was modest! You didn't even see it! How could you know? Don't say that - This tee-shirt I'm wearing shrank in the last wash, honestly! ) ...portion of Sainsbury's Sticky Toffee Pudding with Low Fat Custard (- an old family recipe to counteract stress - left to me by an ancient retainer, my Beautiful Auntie Gwennie), I had lost meself a follower... (Then there were 58...!)

(And I realise that there are two more lovelies this morning, but there weren't last night when I was scribbling this, I'm very sorry...)

I have searched everywhere, partout, irgendwo, mes amis... even under my beloved bed, where only the crumb-eating, Biscuit Elves flourish... And still this, perhaps silent, follower, this ardent disciple, nay, this foot soldier, is not to be found... (I knew I should have written down all their names into my blogroll book, then I could have e-mailed them, like a cyber-stalker-proper-like!)

I never wanted, nor intended, to blog about such a thing... I have noticed bloggeristas showing their irritation, even baring their teeth, when faced with yet another bloggero lamenting the lack or number of followers, the dearth of pithy comments on their blogs...

I swore I would never fall into that trap, but faced with this... This quasi-betrayal, this mystery... I am bereft - Was it something I said, a poignant pic I posted, un mot pas juste, something I nicked from their blog and didn't credit - Was it me blog on tattoos? Shurely shome mishtake?!

I know we are all trying to do too much - To blog too much and too often; There are too many wonderful blogs even to do justice to - So many talented writers, so little time; And yet I feel this apparent slight, or slip of finger on smooth steel laptop like a smooth silver scythe cutting through swathes of corn...


...I am soooo upset, Darjeelings, I just need to consult with my muse, et voila, there she is, before me now... in a vibrant poof of Fracas-scented mist... Can you see her?



Wait, can you hear her? Hush now, for she is singing... It is a tune you may even have heard while seated on your ol' granpappy's knee in that gnarled rocker, when you were knee high to "Ah, Grasshopper!", but you will know this little ditty nonetheless, I feel...

It is Where Have All The Flowers Gone by Pete Seeger... (or very nearly, PAUSE... Ahem!)




WHERE HAVE ALL ME FOLLOWERS GONE?

words and music by Pete Seeger
performed by Pete Seeger and Tao Rodriguez-Seeger

(Adapted for the stage manager's boot by Fhina Crawford: Aka: A Woman Of No Importance)



Where have all me followers gone?
Long time reading
Where have all me readers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all me followers gone?
Blogs have nicked them every one

When will they ever return?
When will they ever learn?



Where have all me listeners gone?
Long time listening in
Where have all me beauties gone?
(I had) a long time ago
Where have all me hearties gone?
Gone to blazes every one

When will they ever learn?
Will they ever return?



Where have all the bloggers gone?
Long time wittering on...
Where have all the buggers gone?
Long scuttled away
Where have all me lovelies gone?
Left for pastures new every one...

When will they ever return?
You know this refrain now, right - So sing along, or just mouth the words - It works for Secretaries of State, who don't know the Welsh National Anthem, apparently!



Where have me foot soldiers gone?
Long time trotting off
Where have me foot soldiers gone?
Gone far away
Where have me dahlink soldiers gone?
Gone outside Blogland every one...

La, la, la, la-la-la?
When will they ever learn?



Where have all me commenters gone?
Long time talking sense
Where have all the beggars gone?
Long time away
Where have all me followers gone?
I'll send you flowers every one


When will I ever learn?
Oh, even I'm sick of this now... And you've got your fingers in your ears, I can tell...

...When will I ever learn?



©1961 (Renewed) Fall River Music Inc
All Rights Reserved.

©2009 (Never Registered It Doesn't Really Exist!) Wild At Heart Music Corp.

I found details on Pete Seeger's visit to my other muse (''Er Indoors'), la goddess Wiki. In fact, here is one of the Temple's chalices :

"Peter "Pete" Seeger (born May 3, 1919) is an American folk singer, a key figure in the mid-20th century American folk music revival. A fixture on nationwide radio in the 1940s, he also had a string of hit records during the early 50s as a member of The Weavers, most notably the 1950 recording of Leadbelly's "Goodnight, Irene" that topped the charts for 13 weeks in 1950. In the 1960s, he re-emerged on the public scene as a pioneer of protest music in support of international disarmament and civil rights and, more recently, as a tireless activist for environmental causes.

As a song writer, he is best known as the author or co-author of "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?", "If I Had a Hammer" and "Turn, Turn, Turn!", which have been recorded by many artists both in and outside the folk revival movement and are still sung throughout the world.

"Flowers" was a hit recording for The Kingston Trio (1962),
Marlene Dietrich, who recorded it in English, German and French (1962), and Johnny Rivers (1965). "If I Had a Hammer" was a hit for Peter, Paul & Mary (1962) and Trini Lopez (1963), while The Byrds popularized "Turn, Turn, Turn!" in the mid-1960s, as did Judy Collins in 1964. Seeger was one of the folksingers most responsible for popularizing the spiritual "We Shall Overcome" (also recorded by Joan Baez and many other singer-activists) that became the acknowledged anthem of the 1960s American Civil Rights Movement, soon after folk singer and activist Guy Carawan introduced it at the founding meeting of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) in 1960".

"As of 2008 Pete Seeger is still actively performing and recording.
On September 29, 2008, the 89-year-old singer-activist, long banned from commercial TV, made a rare nationwide appearance on the Late Show with David Letterman, singing "Don't say it can't be done, the battle's just begun... take it from Dr. King you too can learn to sing so drop the gun...


On January 18, 2009, Seeger joined Bruce Springsteen, grandson Tao Rodríguez-Seeger, and the crowd in singing the Woody Guthrie song, "This Land Is Your Land" in the finale of Barack Obama's Inaugural concert in Washington, D.C."

"There is hope for the world." - in Pete Seeger: The Power of Song".



(p.s. I'm not really upset - I do understand... So please don't worry about daft old batty me! This was a poor excuse for a blogging piece!)

Happily Ever After (not!) Camille Claudel Continued

Today, I just want to complete the tale of Camille Claudel, artist, sculptress, Rodin's Muse, and one of my heroines, if that's okay with you?

Confession time here, I read literature and learned art history while at school, and wondered exactly what it took to be an artist's muse, his inspiration... I day-dreamed of becoming a muse, with no chance whatsoever of experiencing at first hand what it might feel like.

Well, I guess, the closest I came once, was meeting an artist in Cumbria. He was a friend of my OH's cousin, and worked part-time in industry, while earning part of his crust selling his paintings.

He was reasonably well established and his canvases were, well... Interesting.

Cumbria, you say' All those wind-whipped, fluffy sheep, the dramatic, rolling hills, the lush greenery, the cavernous lakes, the pendant mists...

This chap painted Mexican scenes: Men in colourful sombreros and multi-layered ponchos... Nice!

He got a glint in his eye when we were discussing Paul Klee and modern art, in fact, he finally got me to appreciate modern art, and that was some task, I can tell you!

It must have been my Viva Zapata moustachio he was interested in! Can't have been anything else!

Camille was able to break free of the shadow of the famous sculptor with her later works, influenced by Japanese art, and Art Nouveau, in particular, the onyx and bronze Wave (La Vague 1897) shows us a group of women figures, holding hands in a circle before the towering Tsunami style wave...


Similarly, Les Causeuses, is a tiny sculpture, showing a group of women, again in bronze, enrapt in conversation, oblivious to their surroundings, chattering and gossiping away, as only (perhaps) women and gay men can do!

However, from 1905 onwards, Camille began to exhibit odd behaviours, odd even for a Bohemian artist. She went on to destroy some of her art, send mischievous letters and drawings to Rodin and Rose Beuret, and I believe other important figures in the art world, perhaps also the press...

Camille became unreliable, she probably drank too much, as she likely attempted to self-medicate against the evils of the world as she perceived them... She continued to rattle around her workshop, accusing Rodin of stealing her ideas and of leading a conspiracy to kill her.

When Camille's beloved father, who had continued to bankroll her career, died in March 1913, she was not told of his death, and on 10 March 1913, she was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, under the signatures of her brother and a doctor. A later diagnosis of her ills, describes her suffering from, " a systematic persecution delirium mostly based upon false interpretations and imagination". (Wiki).

It may be that committing her to an asylum was the best thing for Camille; It may also have been a question of her socially aware and influential family finding it easier to have their vagabond genius child sequestered away, out of harm's way... as her brother's art, influence and position in French society grew Did Rodin himself have anything to do with her being hidden away from view? Who really can tell?



The facts remain that for a time, "the press accused her family of committing a sculptor of genius, and her mother forbade her to receive mail from anyone other than her brother. The hospital staff regularly proposed to her family that Claudel be released, but her mother adamantly refused each time. On 1 June 1920, her physician sent a letter advising her mother to try to reintegrate her daughter into the family environment. Nothing came of this".
In 1929 Jessie Lipscomb visited her, and her brother called in every few years...

Camille Claudel died on 19 October 1943, after having lived 30 years in the asylum at Montfavet without a visit from her mother or sister. Her body lies at Monfavet.

What remains is her very personal, intimate and spell-binding art.

You can see it yourself at the Musee Rodin (formerly Hotel Biron), in Paris. It is well worth a visit of a few hours, and the gardens of the house on a summer's day are very welcoming.

Rodin gave his studios for a museum to the state before his death, and continued to work there rent-free as a result. Camille may even have stayed with him there, I'm not certain without consulting the book I have about her, written in French by her relation... A great-grand-niece, or something of that ilk...
There is also a film of Camille's life - It is beautifully acted, with Isabelle Adjani and the inimitable Depardieu, not without its own fans, it also has its detractors, in terms of possible artistic licence. Once again, where are the experts? What is real, and what is fiction, when we talk about heroism and beauty?

One thing is certain, whatever the tragedy of her life, love and fate, Camille's art tells us all that we would ever wish to know about her...

“My very dearest down on both knees before your beautiful body which I embrace.” Letter from Rodin to Camille Claudel (end of 1884 - beginning of 1885).

“A superb brow above magnificent eyes of that rare blue so seldom encountered outside the covers of a novel,” Paul observed in 1951.

And Rodin wrote, “With regard to the Hôtel Biron, nothing is settled yet. The idea of including some sculptures by Mlle Say [a phonetic pseudonym for Camille Claudel, Mademoiselle C., based on the French pronunciation of “c”] would please me very much. This house is quite small and I don’t know how the rooms will be arranged. There could be a few buildings for her and for me.”

In Rodin's own words, "I invent nothing, I rediscover".

"The artist must create a spark before he can make a fire and before art is born, the artist must be ready to be consumed by the fire of his own creation".


"To the artist there is never anything ugly in nature".



And finally, while I was typing this on Monday, I experienced the serendipity of listening to Bette Midler on a UK TV chat show, singing Wind Beneath My Wings, with its lyrics, "Did you ever know that you're my hero..?"

So dedicated to all our heroes, I offer up a version of Bette singing that lovely song on her own show, "Bette". She is accompanied on the piano by the fabulously talented British actor, James Dreyfus.

The clip I saw of Bette might not ever make it to Youtube, so this might serve to raise a smile with you today - The quality is not great, but the sound is okay.

I hope you enjoy it after a couple of days of seriousness about all our heroes and heroines here!

Camille Claudel, Muse and Legend - An Heroic Life?

Once again, mes braves, I am staying with the heroes and heroines in our lives thematic approach... This is Hera above.

The theme of what constitutes heroes and heroines, and who are our heroes, might be something I choose to return to from time to time... Hope you're okay with that? And my apologies in advance as this is a little long today, so I have decided to save half until tomorrow - The pictures, I think, make it appear longer, in any case...

It seems to me that in our history, we had some everyday heroes, such as Nelson, and perhaps Churchill - because the media and press weren't so much 'in our face' as they are today. It was easier to control the media then when there was less of it... When news and information, gossip and rumour, could not be found at the click of a mousie! At those points in history, it might have been easier to have held people closer to our hearts, to have plucked their image from a news sheet, and pasted it into an album, their thoughts and deeds keeping us warm on wintry evenings, simply because we didn't know all that there was to know about them...

Once we know their flaws, their Achilles' Heels - That they bite their toenails, for example, how easy is it then to hold their better deeds close to our hearts?

In this vein, I do not include those personal heroes, those who are known and much loved to us - The people I am loving you telling us about - Your mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, courageous friends and wonderful acquaintances...

Back to the ramble - and wasn't it the proud and imperious Mr Darcy, channelled by Jane Austen, who said:

"My good opinion once lost, is lost forever... "

I quoted from Protege's comments yesterday, and do so once again today. She said, "Those who maintain...who can achieve what they wanted, whatever it is, just by keeping at it...it's so rare".

This could sum up my artistic heroine, Camille Claudel, almost entirely...


You may, or may not be aware, but Camille's story has been more or less hidden in the clay-spattered aprons of time... Perhaps her family wanted it that way... Camille was born, close to my own birthday in fact - I hadn't recalled that before now, on 8 December 1864, and was the older sister of the French poet and diplomat, Paul Claudel.

Camille was said to be entranced by stone and soil as a child... At this point, I'm dipping my head and entering the low stone portal of the Goddess Wiki, where else??! "as a young woman she studied with sculptor, Alfred Boucher. (At the time, the École des Beaux-Arts barred women from enrolling to study.)" Aah, did it now..., why am I not suprised?

"In 1882, Claudel rented a workshop with other young women, who were mostly English, including Jessie Lipscomb. In 1883, Camille met Auguste Rodin, who taught sculpture" to developing young talents in his studio in Paris.

In or around 1884, Camille began to work alongside Rodin, learning from him and perhaps teaching him some things. ~ For years she merited his attentions, she was his muse, his confidante and his lover. Rodin, of course, was all this time married to Rose Beuret, mother of his son.



There are all kinds of rumours about Camille - That she had two children with Rodin. She had an accident in which she lost his child... She had to terminate a pregnancy of his child...


No-one can be certain, and records have been misted over with cobwebs and probably sources have been tampered with by well-meaning friends and relatives - Who among us really knows what passes between two lovers?



And wasn't it Charlotte Bronte herself who threw sister Emily's second novel into the flames of the fire in the parlour in Haworth?!

Camille's family never came to terms with her indiscretion, nor her love of a profession which was not entirely deemed seemly for one of her station in life... In 1892, Claudel ended her relationship with Rodin, although they saw one another regularly until 1898.

In 1903, she merited a headline exhibition at one of the famed Parisian salons... She was Rodin's muse, and influenced, to my mind, softened elements of his art and sculpture... She was a very talented sculptress in her own right; The famous art critic Octave Mirbeau wrote she was "A revolt against nature: a woman genius".


"Her early work is similar to Rodin's in spirit, but shows an imagination and lyricism quite her own, particularly in the famous Bronze Waltz (1893). The Age of Maturity (1900), whilst interpreted by her brother as a powerful allegory of her break with Rodin, with one figure The Implorer that was produced as an edition of its own, has also been interpreted in a less purely autobiographical" way, as a powerful testament to pain, suffering and longing. The lone figure outstretches her arms, beseeching someone out of vision to enfold her, to love her...

Camille came to Rodin's studio when he was working on the famous, Gates of Hell and The Burghers of Calais. She is probably the model used for the three female forms at the top of the gates. "The two artists had a mutual influence on one another; her Jeune Fille à la Gerbe of 1887 was a precursor of Rodin’s Galatea, and the Three Female Fauns are the inspiration for the female figures Claudel’s La Vague".