kagablog

I often wonder if muses still exist in the art world. Today’s art is often so clinical and frozen by academic thought that I cannot imagine a muse being behind any of it. Muses make us feel, I believe. I think maybe they are dying specie, who knows? Somebody labeled me as his muse some time ago. First I laughed. Me?! Hell no. I always thought muses are exceptionally beautiful and graceful, blessed with the aura of a goddess. Me, I’m a large, average looking woman who shaves my legs only in summer and swears a lot. But this got me thinking about muses.

Never has there been a muse who thinks “I want to be a muse” and then miraculously becomes just that. Muses have to intrinsically be chosen in order to inspire. She cannot be forced upon any real writer. The muse cannot be called on, summoned or pulled in by force. She has to appear when the writer least expect it. If not, she might just be a muse impersonator.

The very nature of a true muse to the writer is that of one who is caught off guard, unaware, very much reminiscent to the nudes in Degas’ bath drawings. When looking at these pastel works by Degas, intimacy is awakened by the thought that the figure is not aware of the viewer’s presence. If one of these figures of Degas should one day come alive, turn around and notice the eyes of the viewer upon her, her beauty would fade as quickly as the interest of the viewer. I think the true muse should never know she is one, for it would spoil the whole process of arousal.

There can be two reactions for a person to find out that she/he is somebody’s muse. The first reaction is that of one who becomes immediately flattered and is as keen to inspire as the writer is to be inspired. Dali’s Gala immediately comes to mind when I think of an eager muse. In my opinion she went as far as making an art form out of being a muse. Her absolute dedication to Dali’s art was astounding and I imagine she would’ve gone to unimaginable lengths to sustain his artistic drive. Having this type of muse could be compared to reciprocal sex. This muse is eager to stimulate, like the female character in J.M. Coetzee’s Diary of a bad year. In one part she writes to the much older writer she has been a muse to:

“I never minded if you had fantasies about me. “

When she were to get dressed in the mornings, she would think: “Let’s look nice for him, so he can stock up on memories and have something to dream about when he goes to bed at tonight.”

This type of muse would be the appropriate, ever so keen muse, who spurs on the writer, according to Gabriel Garcia, who was mentioned in the same book by Coetzee. Garcia writes:

“I don’t see inspiration as a state of grace, nor as a breath from heaven, but as the moment when, by tenacity and control, you are at one with your theme…You spur the theme on and the theme spurs you on too…all obstacles fade away, all conflict disappears, the things you never dreamt of occur to you and, at that moment, there is absolutely nothing in the world better than writing.”

Perhaps the best kind of muse would be the type who is an artist or writer herself. Often somebody who can enlighten us with a valid opinion or even compete with us serves as inspiration. The writer/artist produces work to impress the artistic muse, craving the “its beautiful” or “Great work” from the muse, whose approval then fuels yet another work. As an artist I dread the idea of being a muse. To inspire is not my primary concern. To be inspired is.

The second reaction by a person who finds out she has been chosen as muse is that of resistance. She might think, “I never chose this, never wanted this.” Inspiration can very often be mistaken for infatuation and a woman might believe that she is the inspiration to somebody who is in fact infatuated by her. This could cause her discomfort and maybe she wants to play no part in it, for the lines become thin and she has no desire to become somebody’s obsession. This can be compared to non-reciprocal sex act, maybe not as violent as rape but more that of molestation or sexual harassment. Her aversion might serve as either a cut-off point where the writers looses the muse and inspiration, or it could be an incentive to carry on claiming the muse, depending on the nature of the writers’ mind of course. This is one of the reasons I believe a muse should never know she is one, why risk a reluctant reaction from somebody who inspires you.

Maybe there exists a third reaction to being a muse, which might be neutral response, not thrilled nor appalled. Perhaps, if the neutral muse exist, she would be the most convenient, most lasting type of muse.

I don’t know. I think there should be more muses in today’s world. Romantic ideas have been buried under all this academic bullshit floating around. I say bring out the muses, as long as it’s not me.