I told Lucky Bachelor #13 that I’m not ready to date. Yes, that was me saying that, not my psychologically balanced twin. You see, he’s kind of perfect; good job, happy, open, smart, cute… I’ve felt a kind of pressure, an internal pressure, a little voice telling me that I need to spend a little more time alone before hopping into a serious relationship, and #13’s just not the kind of guy that I can date casually. He was amazing–attentive, accepting, empathetic, emphasizing the value of our friendship. We had just watched Baby Face at the CocoPlex, the juicy Barbara Stanwyck pre-Code masterpiece about an ambitious girl, Lily, who sleeps her way from office girl to mistress of the boss. She’s told by her Nietsche-quoting mentor to exploit herself and use men, “Use Men!” he screams at her. Her rise through the corporate gene pool is mirrored by the camera’s slow panning throughout the film from the ground floor to the penthouse, and in her increasingly more stylish attire. And her hair, which gets more and more marcelled. In the end, she finds real love, and loses everything else. But it’s true love that makes her happy.
I suppose I’m Lily at the beginning of the film, trying to make the best of what I’ve got but focused on living in that deco penthouse with the company president. And in bias-cut satin dresses! Do I continue to focus on trying to make a go with this art career when life is passing me by, or do I hop on the boat and participate in the moment? Can I do both?
I think that most people work, save money, watch tv, travel, retire, and die. That just hasn’t been part of my plan. The plan was to create, become part of a dialogue, see and do everything, die, and leave behind something about my experience that future generations can think about or enjoy. At 41, shifting my relation to my entire being and its purpose, the thought of just living and dying, is like trying to accept that my life has no meaning. I create art that means something to me, can I create a new me?
A baker’s dozen bachelors later, aren’t you people tired of my mid-life crisis yet? Well, my show’s in October. I plan to be a basket case until then, which thus far has been great for production. I really like this new work. It’s coming from a questioning of my own existence and passions, an attempt at constructing a garden of sensual and aesthetic meaning.
Ever attentive and thoughtful, #13 just called to check in. In the pre-release restored version of Baby Face, George Brent shoots himself after Lily rejects him a few moments before realizing that she really does love him more than the diamond baubles that she has chased after for the entire film. Fortunately he’s better at being handsome than aiming a gun. He survives, and Lily finds contentment in true love and bankruptcy. The guy has to almost kill himself before she gets it.