My Weekly Checkup (#14)

A Collection of Some Things I Found, Some Thoughts I Had This Week

I hate rabbits, but I do love going down rabbit holes (metaphorically speaking). And that is why I love the internet:  it is mostly a series of interconnected warrens teeming with interesting information and stories. So, I have decided to layout for you one such Google search.

Also,  I needed to do something light this week (next week I plan on sharing a darker, more serious post, but it requires some research). 

Read on to find out why I 
chose this painting.

I usually spend Sunday nights reviewing my Monday morning blog posts: I like to publish them first thing in the morning, you know, for those early risers who need a little reading material to go with their coffee. So I put them together the night before. That process includes selecting an image to go along with the content. For the most part, the Sunday searches have been my first exposure to those particular paintings or drawings. And they always take time and quite a few clicks before I find what I think reflects what I have written.

Also, I have to find the image itself beautiful and intriguing. 

Well, last Monday's post was no different. It took time, different search phrases, and several hyperlinks to arrive at the final product. 

If you are interested, here is how it unfolded...

(Warning: Yeah, you're going to get a glimpse into part of my thought process. Turn away if you don't think you can handle it, or don't want to think less of me.)

While writing the post, my initial thought was to use this image:

I had seen it before, and thought, for some strange reason, it would fit the theme of my final calling. Well, sort of. While looking for the image through Google, I found its Wikipedia entry, and began to read it (I knew of the painting, but not the story behind it). The information made me realize that this painting was in no way related to what I was trying say in my post. So I discarded it. And searched on.

But not before reading up a bit on Edvard Munch, the creator of The Scream. And that brought me to some of his paintings. One of them stood out:

No, wait, not that one (I just discovered the one above while looking for a copy to download of the one below). It was this one:

I was getting excited! Sigh, not for that reason. Instead, I now knew I wanted an image that involved a person standing in front of a mirror. (While I find the one above interesting and beautiful, I discovered a better one latter on). It would be a perfect metaphor for my post: vulnerability, self-reflection, courage. My next Google search was for "in front of a mirror paintings". Or something along those lines.

Which led me to a bunch of images, strangely enough, of women in front of mirrors. One of them caught my eye:

The green fabric, that chair, and the presence of two mirrors (one very large one, and one very small one), among other details, drew me into the painting. But after a few minutes, I realized her facial expression did not convey the emotions I was seeking. Although vanity did not seem fitting, I did not sense any vulnerability either. So I went back to the list of images.

And I found this one, somehow:

I was intrigued! There was so much attitude conveyed through this painting. Instantly upon seeing it, I wanted to know what she was thinking, why she turned her head so sharply, and why did the artist paint this in the first place? The site where I found this had a partial answer (you'll have to visit it, scroll down, and read the description--it's also a great opportunity to see the painting in a higher resolution). 

More importantly, I discovered the name Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. And that led me to this article, which, thankfully, included the image I was seeking (read the article, or at least scroll through to find a much better version of this painting--it is well worth it):

It showed vulnerability, self-reflection, and, I would argue, courage. But also something else. There is something defiant about her posture, and the way she holds her clothes in her hand. To me, it is as if she accepted what she had to do, and took it off in one quick move. But also, upon seeing herself, in that moment, she could not quite let go of the protection. Yet, she still stands straight. And I like how she still has on her knee highs(?) which are black, and contrast against her very pale skin. Finally, her flesh, the contour of her face and breast, the creases of her elbow, and the braids in her hair are more defined than anything else in the room, including her reflection.

Which is the other part of the equation that drew me into this painting. It is blurry, smeared, and darker. We cannot see the details of her face, including her eyes, which may mirror her unwillingness, in the end, to examine herself. The rest of her body in the mirror is without much distinction. 

Both she and the painting are beautiful, and, in my mind, captured what I was trying to say in last Monday's post.

So, I went with it.

And looking back upon both the process and the image, I believe it was the right decision.

(If you think otherwise, scroll right back up, and take another look at the introductory image: Rosa la Rouge by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.)