8/15/2023 0 Comments Old habits die hard karaokeThere are self-guided audio tours, but as is my luck, I managed to arrive just in time for the docent tour, which was all kinds of wonderful. The museum is not terribly big, but I spent well over an hour there. All the passion and drama that surrounded his life was evident in his work. He may have been a rather imperfect husband, and a mediocre boyfriend, and heck, probably not that great of a dad, either, but he was a nearly flawless sculptor. See what I mean? This is why I stay away from artists.īut that didn’t stop me from visiting the Rodin Museum while I was in Philadelphia. Meanwhile, Camille succumbed to mental illness and would eventually die, alone, in an institution. In 1917, after fifty-three years of tempestuous romance, he and Rose were finally married. He refused to leave Rose, though, despite Camille’s requests, and eventually broke things off with his young lover to return to the woman who had mothered his child. She was a talented artist herself, and the two of them inspired each other’s work. They met when Rodin was in his 40s she was 26 years his junior (born the same year as his son).īut he had that dark, brooding thing going for him, and he and Camille fell rather hard for one another. His most notable love affair, outside of his relationship with Rose, was with a woman named Camille Claudel. Rodin clearly had some things to work out – some oats he still needed to sow, or whatever pithy maxim we use when someone runs around with their pants around their ankles. He was miserably unsuccessful for many years.ĭuring that time, he sought comfort in the arms of women across Paris, while Rose remained at home and took care of their son. Rodin’s bust of Rose, made shortly after they met.Ĭonsequently, a lot of people hated his work. It was all staunchly different from the style of the time. His sculptures were imbued with humanity – imperfect, pained faces and bodies that conveyed emotion. They were the working class, the poor, the elderly. His subjects weren’t royalty or the elite – he often chose people he knew. The early years of Rodin’s career were difficult ones – his work was nontraditional, rough and realistic, often giving the appearance of being unfinished. Two years later, they had a son together. When Rodin was 24, he moved in with a seamstress named Rose Beuret. (I guess we could talk about that.)Īnd then there’s all his issues surrounding commitment and faithfulness. Oh, and then there’s the matter of him dying 63 years before I was born. For starters, there’s the whole matter of him being 140 years older than I am. There was no studio that he disappeared to until the early hours of the morning, no paint stained t-shirts, no cherished guitar in the corner of his room.Īnd as you can imagine, things have worked out quite well.īut old habits die hard, and while I thankfully did not marry an artist, I still find I’ve a soft spot for those tempestuous creative types. Don’t tell my husband, but here’s my dirty little secret: I have a bit of a thing for Auguste Rodin. You can imagine my delight when I discovered that Rand, while in possession of a creative mind and some enviable karaoke skills, cannot paint to save his life, and sucks – absolutely sucks – at Pictionary. Just young, a little emotionally immature, and tired of competing for attention. I was tired of coming in a distant second to a blank canvas. I remember a too-quick goodbye with a young man who disappeared out my front door saying, “I have to go paint,” and that was it. I found that the artists I’d encountered were too tempestuous and self-absorbed, oscillating between an almost-delusional level arrogance and pitiful self-doubt. Perhaps it was unfair to blame my failed relationships on the creative outlets of my past paramours, but that was how it played out. What’s that? You have a band? And it’s something you are really passionate about? That’s great! Go away. Even graphic designers and guys who played guitar on weekends were on notice. I would finally learned my lesson when I was 20 or so. If there was anything I could tell my younger self (besides to maybe consider getting an MRI on your head sometime before the age of 30), it would be this: don’t fall for artistic types. Posted in: Attractions, City Guide, Museums
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