Marilyn Dreams…

Like many artists, when I create a piece, I never know how it will be received. Although nerve wracking at times, this is the most thrilling part of art making. I became an artist, after all, because I love to speak visually to communicate something to viewers. When they respond, whether it’s with positive, negative or constructive feedback, I’m delighted that someone has acknowledged my message! As mentioned in my recent newsletter, I just completed another collage dedicated to Marilyn Monroe, an actress I feel a great affinity to. A double-sided triptych entitled “A Girl’s Best Friend” (Side 1) and “Marilyn Dreams” (Side 2), it elicited some interesting responses from Facebook friends when I posted it in February. Today I want to share a couple of these comments with you.

The inspiration for this collage began with a quote from Marilyn: “The nicest thing for me is sleep, then I can at least dream.” Upon reading it, I wondered how disillusioned she must have felt to find no place for dreaming in her waking world. On the outside it seemed like she was living a dream life as a popular actress, however this wasn’t case if you’ve read any of her biographies. As I speculated about the things that haunted her, I assembled fragments of a possible dreamscape: a wolf, an antler chandelier, a top hat, a nest, an elegant breast and a pair of the floating lips… things that are part of my “Marilynscape”… the surreal territory of her subconscious… the place that questioned her life and career choices.

Upon viewing the piece, two Facebook colleagues, an artist and a writer, were struck by the body parts I’d chosen. One noted how iconic they were; so instantly recognizable as Marilyn’s even when copied by others in film and advertising. Indeed, the parts I’d chosen for the collage also belonged to other fashion models. Pop artist Andy Warhol even immortalized her face. Like the relics of Christian saints, Marilyn’s body fragments have become a sacred part of popular history.

Man Ray, The Lovers/A l'heure de l'observatoire, les Amoureux, Oil on Canvas, 100 x 250.4 cm, 1932-34

Full, bright red, those lips reminded me of Surrealist artist Man Ray’s piece, The Lovers (1932-34). Here an enormous pair of woman’s lips floats across the evening sky. These are the lips of his departed lover and muse Lee Miller; many have pondered if they symbolized a nightmare or erotic fantasy for the artist. A similar question was posed to me by another colleague who wondered whether the floating lips in my collage were an invitation to seduction or a silent scream. They reminded him of pair of lips he’d seen in Samuel Beckett’s theatrical production “Not I” (1973). Fascinated, I immediately googled a video excerpt on Youtube. In this piece Beckett projects a large scale film portrait of actress Billie Whitelaw’s lips on a screen to the audience. Whitelaw portrays a woman who’s undergone a series of traumatic life events which she spews out to viewers with break neck speed and emotional intensity. With only her mouth to give guidance to her character, her delivery is frenetic and ghostly. It was both a liberating and nightmarish performance to watch. As I weighed up this piece with my work, images of the unfortunate events of Marilyn’s life sprang to mind… a string of failed marriages; an ill-fated love affair with John F. Kennedy and her futile attempts to prove herself a respectable actress to her Hollywood peers. I imagined how this must have driven her to the brink of madness. Akin to the owner of Beckett’s disembodied lips, I realized that those luscious red lips which so often represented an invitation to sexual pleasure could also be viewed as a cry of anguish and regret; perhaps even outrage for all the unrealized dreams she had locked inside her. It was an “aha moment” for me; one I never anticipated when I created the piece. It was poignant one I would’ve never arrived at without the observations of viewers.

As an artist, besides making a living from my art, there is no greater satisfaction than when my art speaks to people and they are compelled to share their own experiences of it with me. When they do, my work becomes a newer and richer experience for me. And, it’s only then I know that what I’ve created has truly taken on a life of its own. As scientist Victor Frankenstein would say: “It’s Alive!”

Special thanks to Aaron Lubbert and Phil Smith for enlightening me with their thoughts. Thanks too to all those who took the time to send positive feedback as well as Youtube videos and gorgeous photos of Marilyn. It was great to incite a feeling of community around this amazing and talented actress whose light continues to shine brightly many decades after her passing.

Other Related Links:
What’s in a Namesake?
Me, Vanessa, Marilyn & John