A Brush of Affairs

Recently,my Mum and I were having coffee and I griped I hadn’t had fun in too long a time. I added: ‘I really want to have…,’ and my mother finished my sentence with: ‘An affair?’ I replied a hard no—I was going to say bender--but in my head,I was shitting myself because I couldn’t believe that an affair was the first thing that came to her mind. Let me be perfectly clear: affairs are not done in the Holleman family, immediate or extended. The Holleman family is notoriously faithful, with most of the men and women finding and staying with one partner for life. I myself am a one-man woman, yet having not met this creature, have never,ever considered having an affair. Even after years of celibacy (involuntary, voluntary,at this point it’s all the same drought), involving myself with an attached man has not appealed. I recall a time during my younger years when married men found me appealing, but I was too oblivious to know what to do. Really, how can you enjoy yourself in the relationship when the knowledge you’re doing something you shouldn’t weighs on you? There’s no way I’m orgasming with that kind of guilt. So, for my dear beloved, strict Calvinist mother to suggest such a thing, really had me whirling.

           As I get older, I drift more and more to the artistic realm within my self. I’ve become more creative, more disciplined and more forthright. Yet, there is one area of my self that is unbelievably uncharacteristic of artists: my sex life. There are no suitors lined up at the door; my phone does not have a slew of gents to ring for carnal pleasures; and the last time I was seriously in love, COVID-19 was not part of the vernacular. I’ve always marveled at the ability of artists who’ve surrounded me throughout my years, to effortlessly jump from partner to partner, have multiple partners, and when on tour to switch off their monogamous relationship so they can cavort with a groupie. Like, how do they do it?

           That’s a question many a scholar has asked about the Italian Renaissance painter Raphael. A man who had so many lover’s,he set his schedule by who needed servicing when. For all his philandering,there is a great portrait that suggests he was a one-woman guy. The Portrait of a Young Woman (La Fornarina) is in my opinion an unrenaissance-like Renaissance portrait. It’s primitive, bold and like most great portraits deeply revealing.The woman before us was most likely Margherita Luti, the daughter a Siennese baker and Raphael’s one true love. Renaissance painting is foreign to me; it’s opulent depictions of Christ and antiquity do not rouse overwhelming fill-in-the-blank feelings. I recognise the skill and admire the genius, but the style does not move me. Understanding the historical context in which the classic three Italian painters (and three quarters of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) worked, I’m impressed they found time to complete works that were undeniably raw and scandalously close to their hearts.

           La Fornarina is no blushing alabaster babe in pastels. She’s a dark-haired Madonna-whore in the wild. Her upper body is lighter than her face, which I suppose underlines she’s not royalty;her hair is partially covered by an unglamourous scarf with a delicate pearl hanging from it to show she’s got a man. The uneducated eye (such as myself prior to researching this portrait) would assume that her half-naked state pegs her as a putana. That would be a false assumption: it was not unusual to paint a young bride’s exposed breasts. Knowing Raphael died unmarried, in addition to the Baker’s Daughter rocking a blue band with the aforementioned painter’s name brazenly scrawled, homeboy had some balls of steel to flout his indiscretion.But that’s just it, isn’t it? That’s what artists—especially painters—do: they mock the conservatism of the general population by using their divine skills.Naughty deeds feed great oeuvres.

           Margherita, the Baker’s daughter does not look at her voyeur with timidity. No, she returns him the mischievous doting stare of lover who knows her boo all too well, warts et al, and rests nakedly assured that he feels the same. According to Giorgio Vasari, Raphael died an early death at 37 from sexual exhaustion. Even with the love of his life in tow, he still had to screw half of Christendom. That why is a question whose answer rests in his grave as it does so many artists of the past, present and future.I have no idea why my fairly conservative Mum thought I should have an affair. Was it because she wants me to get inspiration? I shudder at the other possibility:that she wants me to finally get some in whatever means possible.

Pomegranate Image from 'She Grows Veg' website