la petite mélancolie

fern andra, silent movie star

Although I originate from a family of depressives, I've always fiercely resisted that identity.

I was not, I was determined to believe--constitutionally depressed so much as situationally so. To that end, I've striven to live my life as such: I own I have a naturally happy disposition.

Childhood photos of me bear witness to this fact. Photos with my family often depict me as a rosy cherub, beaming at the camera. My melancholic kindred are downcast. They look away from the lens. Or regard it with sullen forbearance. Of course, my siblings regarded me as retarded. My cheerfulness clearly marked me as having a membership amongst the intellectually impoverished. 

Depressives often develop a sort of superiority complex about their mental state. It is the more ARTISTIC state of mind. It has a rich poetic tradition. It is très BOHEMIAN.  . And, if you were truly paying attention, were as acutely aware and deeply observant as they--then you too would be depressed!

There is something to that. In psychology, the concept is known as depressive realism.  In 1979 psychologists Alloy and Abramson, and in 1989 Dobson and Franche conducted two separate studies which seemed to indicate that depressed persons may have a more realistic perception of their abilities, importance in the world, and prospects in life. Which is an interesting, if depressing finding.

Although at times I've toiled like an Egyptian pyramid builder to maintain my happy outlook, often I've FAILED.  Miserably.  When I'm free-falling into the black chasm, scrabbling to get a handhold on the edge of the bottomless pit, I am apt to wonder if I've been fooling myself all along. Perhaps I am a dismal melancholic, like the rest of my dreary tribe.

Should I just be REALISTIC? And accept my fated chemical temperament?

Again and again, I conclude that it is not the case. Gothic gloom may be novel at Halloween, and titillates when one is in certain moods--but it is not my permanent address and I don't want to live there year round. Though I admire the phantastically creative Goth aesthetic, I was never tempted to adopt it as my personal style. After a while, the darkness palls and I yearn for something fresh and clear. I must wear pink, go swimming, and laugh at something hilariously witty, but not morbidly so. Thankfully, even when I've been at my most miserable, and worried to death I will be stuck in that mansion of despair forever, somehow I have always wriggled myself free. 

And again and again, I conclude that even those times when I feared I was clinically depressed, in hindsight there were ALWAYS situational components to my distress. When I figure my way out, I find that my natural happy disposition returns.  As novelist William Gibson advises, 'Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, first make sure that you are not, in fact, just SURROUNDED BY ASSHOLES.'   Which has often proved to be my real problem, not defective levels of serotonin or whatnot. 

Now, after years of encountering such 'situational' situations, I have a bag of tricks, a Girl Scout emergency kit in which to rescue my oft-times teetering moods.  Happiness repair has become one of my 'mad skills.'  My mental hygiene.

fern andra, silent movie star

Admittedly, this current bout of melancholia I've been faced with has been a long, dismal slog.  This time around has exasperated my can-do spirit.  My usual bag of tricks has come up empty.   After planning a magnificent year for myself--I made the now seemingly quaint intention that 2012 would be the best of my life thus far, and was even writing in a silly old gratitude journal for Pete's sake--I found myself living through the worst of years.

(At least since 2009, the year of the LANDLADY-from-Hell, but that is another story...)

I could list my tragic losses for the year, my woe log, the various sucker-punches dealt by the random and uncaring universe: but I shan't wallow.  On the other hand, mayhap I should.  I have no compunction about WALLOWING really; for wallowing (or less pejoratively, FEELING) is an essential part of the grieving process, and one must get through it to find the other side.  Too often people who are not depressed, not grieving, are quick to judge--and tell the besieged person to cheer up and forget.  But as the old Zen masters say, that which you resist, grows stronger.

We all know of poor, misbegotten individuals who are stuck fast in their depression, and they are sad cases indeed.  The wise person knows when it is time to cease grieving, when the noble wallowing process is finished, when to put a period at the end of purgatory, and start a new project.  Count me amongst the wise: I may be smacked down by life's giant fly swatter, but I am resilient.  I will come back.  The sap is rising into my poor listless limbs, giving strength to my sword arm, or in my case, my pen.  Or my keyboard.  I finally feel my old happy self returning--and I am on the march toward my GLORIOUS hopes and dreams.

And even at this late time of my life, I am still going to GET THAT PONY.

fern andra, silent movie star

Even if it is totally UNREALISTIC.

lorna steele - fairy artist

lorna steele link

lorna steele link

lorna steele link

lorna steele link

 

lorna steele link

lorna steele link

Here's a mysterious muse. My good friend and kindred spirit Terrie True showed me a fairy picture by Lorna Steele, which intrigued me with its simple whimsy. My usual ways of learning about artists resulted in almost nothing. I can't find any information about the artist except her birth and death dates (1902-1990). Not even an entry on Wikipedia from the enthusiastic fairy art folk.

Her postcards and prints do seem to be selling on ebay and other similar websites, however. Hopefully we can someday soon learn more about this charming fairy artist.

cléo de mérode - muse of la belle epoque

There is a mystique about the early portrait photography of the late 19th the new 20th century. There is something so compelling about the Belle Epoque beauties, the glamor of silent screen goddesses. . . I can't quite put my finger on it, but that is probably why it is a MYSTIQUE.

Surely, the human form—and the feminine form particularly—has always been the most powerful image in art, from the very dawn of the artistic impulse.  But I’m not sure why I’m so enthralled by famous beauties of from the past, and why I find them far more compelling than the publicity photos of current celebrities. 

Perhaps it has everything to do with their world being lost to us by time—and the only peephole we have to their lives, is through these mysterious pictures.

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In the case of Cléo de Mérode, beauty of the Belle Epoque—her portraits fascinated people of her own era, as they continue to fascinate us today.  Cléo was a serious ballet dancer, who performed across Europe and in the United States--but she was more famous for her arresting image, which was popular on widely circulated post cards, sheet music and playing cards. 

Her hair style—a chignon, with the hair arranged low over the ears—became the rage of Paris. She was also known for her tiny waist, attained by the extreme tight-lacing of her corset.

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Cleopatra Diane de Mérode was born in 1874 in Bordeaux, France. Her father was an Austrian landscape painter, and descended from an aristocratic Belgian family. Cléo was selected for the Opera School of Dance at 8-years old, and began dancing professionally at eleven. 

The little ballerina grew into a romantically beautiful young woman. She inevitably attracted much attention for it, both positive and negative. When she was 22, King Léopold II of Belgium saw Mérode dance at the ballet, and was utterly smitten. He pursued her, but the tale is that Cléo did not return his regard. Gossip circulated that she was the royal old rascal's latest mistress, and because the 61-year old Léopold was a notorious rake, Cléo's reputation suffered, and the story dogged her until the end of her life.

The scandal did not prevent de Mérode's rise to become an internatonal star. At the height of her career, she danced at the Folies Bergère, which was a déclassé venue for an elite ballet star—but it was such a bravado act, it earned her a whole new audience.

'the dancer' by alexandre falguière 1896

Cléo was the inspiration for many contemporary artists of her time.  Sculptor Alexandre Falguière created The Dancer in her image, which can be viewed today in the Musée d'Orsay.  In 1895, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec sketched her portrait.  Gustav Klimt used her as the model for many of his paintings. She was the subject for many of the most famous photographers of the age.

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 beautiful video of cléo by begoodi

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Cléo was popular not only in France, but in Germany and in her father's ancestral land of Austria.  Silent screen actress Fern Andra portrayed her in the 1926 German film Frauen der Leidenschaft.  Her relationship with Austrian painter Gustav Klimt was the basis for the 2006 film Klimt, starring John Malkovich as Klimt, and Saffron Burrows as "Lea de Castro," a character based on Cléo de Mérode.  

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She continued to dance until her early fifties. Afterwards she retired to live by the sea, and write her memoirs.  In 1955 she published Le Ballet de ma vie (The Dance of My Life).   Cléo de Mérode died in 1966 and was put to rest in Paris's Père Lachaise Cemetery. She is buried alongside her mother.    

cléo's tomb at père lachaise cemetery, paris

A statue of a mourning Cléo decorates the grave.

sighs for marie doro

Isn't she enchanting?  This is silent movie and Broadway star Marie Doro.  I've used this lovely portrait before at TEMPESTUOUS MUSE, but I wanted to revisit it. link

Most of her films are lost, like so many other silent films. She was very famous and a household name in her day--but in later years she faded into obscurity. link

She was born in Pennsylvania in 1882. She began acting in the theater as a chorus girl, but was soon discovered and made a star on Broadway. After that, she began a career in films.

'The White Pearl' 1915  link

'The Wood Nymph' 1916 link

'She was so devastatingly beautiful that I resented her.' --Charlie Chaplin  link

'Although generally typecast in lightweight feminine roles, she was in fact notably intelligent, cultivated and witty.'  link  Whilst most of her films are gone, we still can treasure these hauntingly beautiful pictures of her.  I think this picture is from her film, Sherlock Holmes. link

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Strange Doro trivia fact: she played the role of Oliver Twist, a starveling London urchin, in a film version of the Dickens' novel, when she was twenty-five years old. Did she carry it off? We'll never know. The film is lost.

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'Offstage, she was intelligent, an expert on Shakespeare and Elizabethan poetry, and possessed a penetrating humor and a sometimes acid wit.'  link

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Doro was a Dresden doll-like brunette, described by drama critic 
William Winter as “a young actress of piquant beauty, marked personality and rare expressiveness of countenance.” link

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Marie, who died a forgotten woman, has a new life now on the interwebs.
Her beautiful portraits cause many to pause, stare and marvel at her fascinating images.

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juliette of the herbs

Who is a BOHEMIAN MUSE, you may wish to know?

All my life, I've been fascinated with strong, creative, free-spirited souls. Independent and inspired individuals who made their lives and work according to their own lights. And usually defying conventional social expectations. Most of my creative heroes are writers and artists, although I admire anyone who is brave and resourceful enough to forge their own wild, weird and wonderful path.

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A big part of BOHEMIAN MUSE's mission is to honor those individuals, both men and women, who've eschewed the expected and orthodox route, to do something brave, original and creative with their time on Mother Earth. And I have so many inspiring muses in mind, in beginning this venture!

Although there is a stellar cast to choose from, the first BOHEMIAN MUSE I shall profile here is wise woman and wanderer,  Juliette de Bairacli Levy. She was known primarily as an herbalist; but her adventurous life fascinates many beyond students of the plant mysteries. 

Juliette was born in England to Jewish parents in 1912; her father was from Turkey and her mother was Egyptian. Her family was quite wealthy, and her early life included chauffeurs and private schools, but Juliette would grow up to turn her back on her privileged upbringing. How is that for a Bohemian beginning in life?

juliette de bairacli levy

Juliette always loved animals--but was distressed how her childhood pets frequently sickened and died, and veterinarians couldn't seem to help. She determined to become a vet herself, and studied veterinary medicine in Manchester and Liverpool. But she was disappointed with the ability of modern medicine to heal her animals, and after two years dropped out of university. Soon she was enthralled with the possibilities of herbal medicine, and inspired by Matthew Arnold's famous poem The Scholar Gipsy, took off to wander the world, learning people still living close to the land, notably the Gypsies.  

One can only imagine what her parents had to say about her leaving school for that reason!

(Note: usage of the term 'Gypsies' is controversial, but I use it here because it is what Juliette used.)

Juliette's wanderlust led her to many countries: amongst them were France, Spain, Turkey, Tunisia, Israel, Greece and Mexico. She always preferred to travel by sea, managing to bring various animal companions with her, including goats, owls and her beautiful Afghan hounds. She lived simply--sometimes camping happily in ruined cottages and caves--and always planted a garden wherever she journeyed. She eventually would bring her children along, and with the knowledge gained through her travels, raised them to be natural and robust. She made many friends along the way, including fellow BOHEMIANS Helen and Scott Nearing, and became accepted as a family member amongst Gypsies, Berbers, and Arabs.

Juliette was reknown for her knowledge and healing skills, and wrote many books on herbal medicine--recording for posterity the fast-disappearing lore that had served humankind through the millennia.  She also pioneered the field of veterinary herbalism, writing some of the first books on natural care for dogs, cats, horses, goats and other creatures. Her books are revered by all modern herbalists.

Like most free-spirits, she also loved poetry, and published several volumes of her own verse; as well as at least two novels. I haven't gotten my hands on any of them, as they are collector's items, so can't comment on them specifically. However, her herb books and her fascinating travelogues have been re-published thanks to Ash Tree Publishing. They have taken old, out-of-print and hard to find volumes and made them accessible today for curious and thoughtful readers. I heartily recommend them. She writes in an accessible, conversational style which makes you feel you are sitting with her in the garden and sipping mint tea.

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Juliette of the Herbs is a wonderful documentary about her life, made when she was in her later years.  I am grateful to the makers of the film for telling the story of this remarkable being, but also recording so much of her natural voice--which is so gentle, rich and unaffected. I watch this documentary whenever I am low and requiring some much-needed inspiration from a wise elder. Juliette of the Herbs is also available on-line at Vimeo, which is a kindness to me, because I've looked high and low and can't find my DVD!  But if you love the film as much as I do, I recommend buying your own copy--and supporting the producers who worked hard to bring it to us.

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It may be odd, but whilst listening to Juliette speak I am oft reminded of the wise voice of another revered Bohemian elder, Tasha Tudor, whom I shall profile in a future post.  I don't know if these two expert plants-women ever met; although they were close in age, and Juliette traveled to New England when both were still alive.  It amuses me to think what these two fiercely creative and independent women--both Titanesses of my imagination--would talk about, given the opportunity.

After living happily on the Greek island of Kythira near Crete (the rustic abode depicted in the above mentioned documentary) Juliette moved to Switzerland, where she passed away in 2009, at the age of ninety-six. She had lived a full, unusually colorful life--one which it is hard to imagine living today.

Juliette de Bairacli Levy continues to inspire me, teach me, and encourage me to blaze my own Bohemian path. She is a favorite muse in my own private 'circle of elders'.  Is she one of yours too?

A lovely memorial by another great-souled bohemian can be found at Alicia Bay Laurel.

happy labor day, muses!