Minerva says
she still has female hormones coursing through her 83 year old body
she says for this reason she still finds joy in masturbation, and that, combined with a high fat diet is the reason her skin is ageless and she looks so great -
hasn't had a lover for over 20 years; but plenty of orgasms.
her studio is off canal in china town
four flights of rickety stairs
every incline upward, the air more humid and thick
peking duck wafting through cracks in the ceiling
or perhaps the smell has enveloped itself in the walls over the years
this is one of the last few spaces like this left
says Kenny
you would have loved the city in the 80's and 90's
he offers me salted peanuts in the break, as i stretch, which i’m thankful for because i didn’t have a proper breakfast
(i couldn't each much after getting off the subway. a man in a grey hat and i stood over a figure in the middle of the footpath together for more than a few seconds. once we ascertained the figure was still breathing, alive, we smiled, half nodded to one another and went on our way. my appetite on it's way also)
i try to be as ego-less as possible as i move through the world
but honestly,
i’m glad when three people ask me separately if i’m a dancer
i like to do things i care about well.
oh,
an actor
sometimes -
i say
even though i haven't worked for so long the words feel false and odd forming in my mouth
same thing really
says Kenny
i smile
Kenny with the peanuts gets it
a girl with red hair and big eyes thanks me quietly and says the poses are dynamic and she's inspired
i miss feeling inspired
Chuck draws so uniquely with thin colored sharpies in small sketchbooks which makes me want to shrink my gestural strokes and try the same
but i can't afford a new sketchbook right now
or new sharpies
come back
says Chuck
this is the only place to draw in new york city
i never thought i’d be taking my clothes off to pay the rent
but i thought a lot of things about my life that haven't been
won’t be
and yet somehow still could be
and, a sketch class is a favorite space
i try to treat the experience as sacred
it is performative, always
often meditative
and deeply grounding
always.
sometimes, in a long pose, when i quickly realize i've made an error
shifted most of my weight on one leg
or tilted my neck back too high
and i know the next 20 minutes will feel like an hour
the same mantra enters my head
i am a strong fae warrior
i am a strong fae warrior
i don't evoke or seek it
it just appears
gentle and strong
the way images sometimes do too
white and hazy
behind my eyes
but clear as day
i see things i must have known already, but buried down for a while.
at one point i find myself sprawled on the stage, hips twisted and neck arched
like a coven, they draw hurriedly in silent unison in a circle around me
i wonder if they feel the magic and power in that effortless weaving together
i notice a pattern scrawled on the ceiling in fine, black ink
i stare at it
my mouth is parted
i suck in hot, duck tainted air and i can feel a curl of wet hair matted and stuck to the bottom of my chin
which would be interesting to draw
if it were me
i ponder
go inward
i think
go in
i think about an ex lover now based in the city and the mean things they said
go write something mean on the internet
does this constitute as mean ?
a friend back home says there is no reasoning with madness
i was a projected something
just like i am now
in front of these strangers
artists
humans
hips twisted and open thorax
giving my vessel to them to see and create whatever it is they please
i could be anyone
curious and kind always, in safe spaces not trampled
they trampled me
they trampled me.
after class i scamper down the stairs with Kenny with the peanuts
hope to see you again he says
Minerva was so pleased, i could tell
i smile and relish in this interaction with a middle aged white man that feels safe
rare.
he hops on his bicycle
i rush toward the subway,
a man calls out to me from across the street that i - look australian - and laughs wildly when i call back:
I AM !
a friend told me recently that new york city is the biggest scam
and i wondered, with empty pockets and a belly less full than i’d like
if she was right
but then i feel the magic in moments like these
maybe i am still inspired and I just hadn't noticed
i feel so happy my eyes burn warm with tears
i wish i had a lover in this moment to squeeze and tell them about my morning
the incredible paintings on the walls and the books stacked from floor to celing
the way Minerva's hands don't waver, not even a little, clutching an oil pastel at 83
i swim in the ocean later that day -
it has been a week.
there is faded charcoal stains on my back and heaviness in my recovering bones
when i emerge from the salty satin sway i smile
my hair no longer smells like peaking duck
and i’m a figure, still here
still breathing
alive.