Pretty Lady's Art: About To Be Really Hot

Really! David says so!

An art writer I know predicted that the art of the future will probably have something to do with abstraction and with the spiritual.

Coincidentally, Pretty Lady has just realized that her abstract, spiritual painting series, 'The Implicate Order' has nearly completed its integral Creative Arc, and is sufficiently voluminous and powerful to fill a decent-sized gallery. Just in time to seize the Crest of the Future!

So, if any of you darlings happen to have Personal Connections with an up-and-coming art dealer that has Taste and Quiet Discrimination, as well as business competence and personal integrity, would you be so kind as to point them in Pretty Lady's direction? Please and thank you. Pretty Lady has been around the Art World long enough to know that unsolicited submissions are gauche in the extreme, and she wouldn't want to move forward without a proper introduction.

And obviously, now would be an excellent time to invest in an original Pretty Lady canvas yourself. Get ahead of the crowd!

How to Cope with the Modern Dating Debacle

The time has come. Trench warfare has gone on long enough. The Rules have been thrown out the window, the handbook burned, and the rape and pillage is far advanced. And stories like this one are no longer the exception, but the norm.

He sat down and asked what I was reading and did I have a boyfriend because he was asking me out. He smelled like incense and clean linen, and I was overwhelmingly and instantaneously smitten. Among other things, I liked his indifference, confidence and knowledge of foreign film directors. On our first date he explained his theory of exclusive relationships, which was that they shouldn’t exist. We talked about our (and all of our friends’) divorced parents, about how marriage was nothing but a pragmatic financial venture, and about the last time we cheated on someone. He said that his disregard for monogamy wasn’t a chauvinistic throwback, but quite the opposite: the ultimate nod to feminism.

All right, girls. This is how you cope.

First of all, the above 'feminist' speech by the above male is garbage. Garbage, garbage, garbage. It is most important that you all understand, in the core of your being, that it is so. It is crass, manipulative, pseudo-intellectual, selfish bullshit. It is a speech explicitly designed to deny your basic human need for trust, fidelity, and unconditional acceptance. It is intended to keep you disempowered, off-balance, insecure and out of touch with your own emotions. It is a blanket license for a man to behave in a completely selfish, untrustworthy, inconsiderate and irresponsible manner for as long as he knows you. Any man who showers you with this tripe, particularly in a charged 'dating' (Pretty Lady uses the term loosely in this context, for reasons which ought to be clear) scenario, may not ACTUALLY be a jackass, but he is certainly ACTING like one.

It is important that you thoroughly recognize the jackassery of this line of reasoning, because your future happiness and tranquility depend upon it. It does not matter if you are a feminist, progressive, intellectual, agnostic, atheist, or a conservative Christian virgin; it is enough that you are female. And as a female, you will be forced to address predatory tactics advanced by libidinous males, whatever sociocultural ideology you profess. This is a fact of life. You will not be able to form any sort of genuine connection with a male person until you get this clear.

So what do you do? You call him on his bullshit.

It is important that you do not get upset; this gives the male grounds to dismiss you as an insane, irrational, hysterical female. When confronted by crass, manipulative bullshit from a man whom one is dating, or considering dating, or mildly attracted to, or not unattracted to, or absolutely smitten with, your response should always be, "That's bullshit. It's shallow, immature, selfish reasoning. People need commitment and fidelity; it's a fact of life. Get used to it." Then you change the subject to something pleasantly trivial; soon after you make your excuses and depart. You do not contact him again.

One of two things will now happen.

If the fellow is, indeed, a selfish, manipulative loser, you will never hear from him again. It is important for you to understand that THIS IS A GOOD THING. The purpose of the Rules has never been to turn losers into winners by keeping them around; it is to get rid of them as quickly and efficiently as possible, before they do any serious damage. And it is crucial that you understand that losers do very serious damage.

Please trust Pretty Lady on this one.

However. If the fellow is NOT a jackass and a loser, and IF he genuinely likes you, and IF he has a fundamental instinct for decency which has been only temporarily occluded by immersion in modern society, he will be Brought Up Short. He will go into shock; he will be forced to think. It will take him a bit of time to think. This is one of the many reasons that you must not contact him; he needs to understand that you mean it, and that if he's ever going to see you again, he needs to reconsider his philosophy.

If you hear from him again, then, you may proceed to get to know him. You may ultimately decide to date him, sleep with him, marry him, or not; this is entirely up to your discretion. What you do NOT have to do is play a number of tedious, manipulative, exhausting games in order to get him to stick around. You do not have to pretend to agree with his 'progressive' attitude, all the while crossing your fingers that he doesn't go through with it. This is lethal.

How to Read a Lady's Signals

Pretty Lady has recently become cognizant of a certain amount of Grumbling, among the male element of the population. "Why cannot women be Direct and Straightforward?" they ask. "Why do they seem to communicate their intentions and desires in an incomprehensible, mercurial and all but subliminal Code? Why are they Flirtatious and Complaisant one moment, and slapping us with sexual harassment lawsuits the next?"

Pretty Lady suspects that these befuddled boys, deep down, believe these questions to be rhetorical. Deep down, she suspects, they believe we are Teasing--that we are driving them to distraction in order to further a hidden Power Agenda, to extract free drinks, admiration and sparkly trinkets. So Pretty Lady hopes these boys will not be too upset when she decides to answer their question, in a direct and straightforward manner. She hopes, furthermore, that they will do her the honor of believing her answer to be sincere.

We. Are. Being. POLITE.

How can you not understand this? Were you born in barns?

Really, boys, can you not tell the difference between the Hollow Laugh and the Tickled Giggle, the Bared Teeth and the Glowing Smile, the Respectful Attitude and the Come-Hither Glance? Can you not comprehend that every lady who treats you with superficial courtesy is not hankering for you over a car hood, but nevertheless may have her own good reasons for failing to treat you with visible contempt? Must it be Passion or Damnation?

Sigh.

For those of you fellows who need a remedial course in Signals 101, then, Pretty Lady recommends that you go and rent The Office--Season 1, and pay particular attention to the episode 'Hot Girl.' Study the Hot Girl's attitude closely. Note her behavior when being towed around by the monstrous Steve Carell; is she smiling? How? Does she make eye contact? For how long? Does she giggle? How does it sound? For how long does she go on giggling? Does she make excuses to get away? Are they sincere?

Now, watch the Hot Girl in interaction with the young fellow with untidy hair. Note smiling, giggling, eye contact and excuse-making, or lack thereof. Compare and contrast.

Is there really any way one could mistake bare politesse for smouldering attraction? Really?

Pretty Lady, for once in her life, is at a loss for words.

How to Move to New York City

Well, hello, darlings! Pretty Lady has been a bit mopey and taciturn, lately; it seems she hasn't had a thing to say, what with Shocking Scandals popping out right and left, and the financial underpinnings of the local economy vanishing like a sinkhole in the basement. She has been too busy watching the floorboards, making sure they're still solid and present.

In fact, Pretty Lady has been a bit jittery ever since she moved to New York City, in the midst of a recession and a chronic terror alert. It is only recently that it occurred to her that she learned a few Facts the Hard Way, and that there might be a few enthusiastic, ambitious young persons out there in the provinces who might benefit from her hard-won experience. So she is rousing herself to give you dears a bit of Sage Advice, which she wishes somebody had given her, five or six years ago. Not that it would have made a great deal of difference, but there you go.

So! You want to move to New York City. Presumably because you are Talented, and Ambitious, and want to Make It in the Big Pond. She can't imagine any other reason. If you are ordinary and bland, there are infinitely more comfortable, congenial and inexpensive places for you to indulge yourself. She wouldn't wish New York City on anyone who wasn't asking for it.

Pretty Lady, first of all, congratulates you. It seems to her that one may not truly progress in one's vocation, or know one's limitations, until one has ventured out into the Wide World and declared, "Here I am. Bring it on!" There are many talented individuals who never develop their talent by honing it in competition with others; they prefer to swan around the Small Ponds of the world, basking in their native statistical superiority. These people may live pleasant and productive lives, but at heart they are cowards.

People who move to New York City are not cowards; most of them are, however, fools. Pretty Lady is no exception. If she had known then what she knows today, she might never have come here at all; what is certain is that she'd have done a few things differently.

1) If at all possible, have a job lined up.

It is madness to move to New York with no job, no friends, and nowhere to live. One ends up paying enormous broker's fees, getting scammed by moving companies, moving into a trashed, sabotaged and stinking apartment, getting stonewalled by licensing boards, jerked around by temp agencies, and generally sucked dry by an impersonal and parasitic machine. People you thought were your friends suddenly become hostile and insane; total strangers will demand impossible things from you.

A few random strangers, however, will save your life.

2) Do not pay a broker. Find a place to live through friends, or friends of friends, or friends of friends of friends, or Craigslist. As a last resort, sublet or couch-surf until you find a no-fee apartment with air and sunlight and a reasonably sane landlord, preferably in Brooklyn.It seemed to Pretty Lady that paying a fair fee to a broker for a decent apartment was a fair price to pay--two or three hundred dollars, maybe?

Try thirteen hundred. In 2002. It's much higher now--ten to fifteen percent of your first year's rent. At between twelve hundred and two thousand a month, for a modest one-bedroom in a neighborhood with infrequent gunfire, you do the math. All this goes to an entity with no function except to get between you and what you need, so as to extort inordinate amounts of money from you. Employment agencies operate in exactly the same way. Welcome to The City!

3) Sign up for the classes, the co-op, and the social networking groups immediately, without waiting to feel grounded or Financially Stable.
Financial Stability will never happen; if you wait to start meeting people, learning things and taking care of yourself until it does, you will wake up and find that you have spent years in total isolation and deteriorating health, in the midst of a sea of opportunity. Nothing happens in New York without Personal Contacts; you make these contacts in yoga class, biking group, choir, co-op, etc. You cannot afford not to do these things.

4) When people in the social networking groups tell you exactly what you want to hear, do not believe them.

Never believe anything someone tells you in New York until you have known them for over a year, and scrupulously attended to their personal history of Word versus Action, or lack thereof. People will tell you anything to make a First Impression, and the big talkers are never the big doers. They are far more likely to be desperate poseurs looking for fresh victims.

Common Lies to Watch Out For:

"I'll call you tomorrow."
"I'll catch up with you later."
"I've got connections who would be delighted to fund that."
"I'll buy that painting."
"I'll have it to you by Tuesday."
"I have this friend you need to meet."
"You can count on me."

5) Get away from toxic people.

This is an important skill to learn, anywhere you live, but doubly so in New York. Endearing personality quirks such as incompetence, mendacity, pugnacity or sloth, which may be given slack in sleepier communities, are the equivalent of a sixteen-ton weight chained to one's ankle, in a city full of obsessive workaholics who will do anything to get ahead.

Furthermore, finding time in one's schedule for personal friends takes a great deal of commitment and ingenuity, in a city where every individual lives the life of ten; you must bestow that friendship wisely. It is important to cultivate the art of sussing out toxicity in a potential friend before the boat is scuttled and the bridge is burnt. Ideally one should have a smiling acquaintance with many, an intimate friendship with the precious few.

6) Beware the crucible effect.

It is Pretty Lady's inchoate theory that moving to New York City brings out a person's worst self-destructive habits, magnified by ten. One may live for decades in a small town, functioning fairly well with a mild case of vanity, paranoia, narcissism or codependency; one moves to New York and becomes a raging monster. Pretty Lady theorizes that this is a result of the pace, the competitiveness, the systemic parasitism, and the psychological pressure that comes from a pervasive sense of 'This is It, Make it or Break it.' The bad habits which emerge under stress threaten to subsume one's entire personality.

The good thing about this is that if one survives and overcomes it, one is an infinitely better and stronger person, a lean and purified verson of self, cleansed of psychic impurities and Stupid People Tricks; if not, well, look at Hillary Clinton. Dear Samantha was right.

7) Treat your real friends well.

Pretty Lady is thrilled to report that after nearly six years in this hell-hole, she is beginning to see the light around her. To her amazement, she looks at her address book and it is filled with astonishingly wonderful, generous, kind, wise, talented, loving people who impress the hell out of her. When she falls, there is a helping hand to pick her up; when she is frightened, there is a listening ear. The economy may have tanked, the Biennial may be full of worthless garbage, and she may be on the verge of bankruptcy, but on the whole she has few regrets.

Related: Why You Should Not Move to New York City

Mailing-list Etiquette

It is the perennial question which emerges, perhaps particularly in New York City, where everyone you meet is a Go-Getter, a Self-Starter, an Odds-Beater, tirelessly and scrappily self-promoting to all and sundry in an indifferent world; the question, of course, is "Why am I still on this person's mailing list?"

For Pretty Lady understands the need to maintain extensive lists of personal contacts, when a person is a Self-Starter in New York City. One must have an invitation list for one's performance-art gigs, one's Pilates workshops, one's obscure art exhibitions off-off Chelsea; one cannot trust that one free advertisment in Time Out NY, to run three days after the event, will garner oneself an audience. And a person cannot perform to bare walls; this becomes depressing. Pretty Lady knows all about that.

But as any self-respecting New Yorker knows, Image is All. And many of these tireless mailing-list maintainers seem to Pretty Lady to have missed out on one important aspect of Image control; that indefinable line known as Tact, or, just perhaps, Class.

For if one's mailing list is made up of Personal Connections--those who can be expected to take a Special Interest in one's doings, above and beyond those of a complete stranger--one would do well to ask oneself, "Am I, in fact, Personally Connected to this person any longer?"

"Or, have I failed to return this person's phone calls, RSVP their invitations, and respond to their friendly emails, for the last year or two or five? Did they, perhaps, inform me of a death in the family, to which I failed to return condolences, or a wedding, which I failed to congratulate? Are they, perhaps, still waiting for me to make good on a promise I made, two or three years ago now, one which may have had a good deal of significance to this person, and which I did not attempt to honor, because my personal ambitions got away with me?"

"Is, there, in short, any compelling reason why this person should wish to drive out to Massachusetts and watch me rolling around onstage in yet another murky Experimental Theatre Project? Or are they more likely to be rolling their eyes at the continuing evidence of my crass, clueless, perennial self-aggrandizement, which sees Other People as merely resources to be tapped, and not individuals with personal lives and concerns of their own?"

Think on this, and purge thy mailing list.

The Healthy Home

Hello darlings! Pretty Lady apologizes for being ever so political, these last few weeks. She doesn't know what has become of her. She suspects that she is a victim of seduction; she just discovered that Barack Obama has the same personality type as her Gentleman Friend--ENFP! No wonder she has such a crush on him! The age of the NF is upon us, after literally millennia of domination by STs! Perhaps, one day, it will be safe for INFJs to enter regularly into society without risking nervous breakdowns.

However, before that happens, we sensitive, introverted, intuitive types will still be spending a lot of time at home. And Pretty Lady has discovered, quite by accident, that she is a better housekeeper than she had previously thought.

For let it be known that Pretty Lady has very little in common with the garden-variety German housewife. One may eat off her kitchen floor, only if one is strengthening one's immune system for an extended tour of Cambodia. The corners of her bathroom tend to putty up. The inside of the microwave, the back of the stove, and the areas under the kitchen table and fridge get a rigorous scrubbing, nearly every year. She does a lot of Artful Draping and Stashing of unattractive clutter, when people come over.

Furthermore, this being a New York apartment, space is naturally at a premium. Therefore every square inch of her home is Densely Packed and Efficiently Used. Pretty Lady's 750 square foot one-bedroom is full-time residence to one lady, one gentleman, and one short-haired feline; it contains one painting studio, one bodywork office, one eat-in kitchen, and one video-editing station. It also contains a second office under the loft, an extensive art collection, four floor-to-ceiling double-stacked bookshelves, a media center, and a great deal of second-hand furniture.

And when a Sensitive Person enters Pretty Lady's home, they generally are not subject to a full-on allergy attack. So she must be doing something right. Here is what she does.

Filters:

One large HEPA filter runs in the bedroom/office/studio, 24/7/365.

Air filter over heating/air conditioning intake, changed regularly.

Water filter on drinking tap, changed regularly.

HEPA filter in vacuum cleaner.

Humidifer in bedroom/office/studio during winter; it makes things feel warmer, and reduces scratchy skin from dehydration.

Plants: as many as possible, in front of every window.

Garbage:

Small garbage bags and waste baskets are used, so as to be emptied once a day, tied up and carried downstairs whenever anybody is going out anyway. Cat box is stationed in bathroom, next to toilet, with broom and other cleaning accoutrements right by, thus providing a Strong Hint to anyone who happens to be using bathroom regularly.

Cleaning products:

All non-toxic. Castile bathroom cleaner, Seventh Generation dishwashing detergent, all-natural shampoos, toothpastes and hand soaps.

Vacuuming:

Before every single client arrives. Specialty nozzles are used on furniture and in corners. Bathroom given a wipe-down at the same time.

Dishes:

Rinsed and put into dishwasher as soon as they no longer contain food. Dishwasher set to run at night, and emptied first thing in the morning. Counters and stove-top wiped down whenever empty, which is usually.

Ventilation:

Windows opened every day the weather permits.

Laundry:

Same-day drop-off wash and fold is $.50/lb on the corner, and worth its weight in gold.

Sweeping re-organization and straightening of scattered objects:

Whenever Pretty Lady gets stressed and cannot think properly, which happens with reliable frequency. This is how Virgos manage. It is not a bad thing.


Pretty Lady, let it be known, is Not Your Mother. Nevertheless she earnestly recommends that people with allergies, chronic health problems, mental health issues and/or pets give her methods some consideration. These simple habits are not excessively time-consuming or excessively onerous; in fact, after a bit of set-up, they are less stressful and intrusive of creative hours than the constant tripping, sneezing, and working around great piles of chaos that inevitably happen otherwise.

(Also, as a last resort: Flylady.net. A Word to the Wise.)

How to Have a Glamorous Career

Pretty Lady must confess that she has been emboldened to take the precipitate step of offering Glamorous Career Advice--even though her own career has not, as yet, peaked--due to the recent and tragic meltdown of her dear colleague Deborah, who made the error of appearing competent in public:

SELLOUT gets a lot of email. Most of it is unhelpful. It's mostly strident requests for personal advice, personal sad stories, *enormous* jpegs of people's work, and kind of stalky stuff about where I, personally, have been seen on the internet and in real life. And re-mails wondering where my personal reply to the personal advice question is. I get a lot of these.

Wading through these anxious, grabby, selfish emails takes a lot of time and gets depressing. As a result, I have developed a much better understanding of what gallerists and curators go through--why they tend toward such strongly policed boundaries.

Well, gracious. Pretty Lady can relate. And she has some very stern words for all you young, or not-so-young, artists, musicians, actors, fashion designers, writers, models, dancers, and wannabe Famous People out there. They are:

NOBODY can GIVE you a career. NOBODY is GOING to give you a career. You have to develop your career YOURSELF.

This would appear, on the face of it, to be simple and obvious information. But Pretty Lady fears that the youth of today have been grossly misled, by travesties such as American Idol, America's Next Top Model, the careers of a few interchangable blonde 'singers,' and the Art Star phenomenon, into thinking that all they have to do is get Discovered. Additionally, they have to Want It Really Bad. At least, this is what Pretty Lady gleaned, the one or two times she has troubled to look at a television, during the last several years.

Darlings, Pretty Lady must then begin with the obvious: You are being manipulated. You are being manipulated in a most unsubtle fashion; you are being manipulated into believing that the power is all Out There, in the hands of Them, and you must wait around for Them to give it to you. This is how They keep you quiet, quiescent, and obedient, and how They get your money.

Pretty Lady can't believe she had to spell that out for you.

So. On to the Real World, which is ever so much more fun than all that goop.

1) Pick something you love, and work very very hard at it.

Again, it seems rather tautological to have to say this, except that Pretty Lady has encountered ever so many people who behave as though it Weren't So. While running her gallery, she received enthusiastic exhibition proposals from 'artists' who had painted two paintings. She was the focus of ongoing schmooze campaigns by 'artists' whose portfolios were indistinguishable from the output of your average sophomore painting class; she received peremptory demands for an exhibition date from 'artists' who were not, currently, making any art.

She furthermore has known 'writers' whose life's oevre consisted of a handful of clichés, written on stray scraps of paper, 'fashion designers' who felt it was a waste of time to learn to sew, and 'singers' who believed that voice lessons were an insult to their creativity.

To these people she says: Get over yourselves, go away, and DO something, before you bother Pretty Lady, or anybody else, again.

2) Take some initiative.

This does not mean 'corner an agent, gallerist or producer and torment them until they agree to represent you.' It means 'get together with a few peers and produce your own project.' It will, in all likelihood, be a Complete Flop; this is called a Learning Experience. We all require them, and it is much, much better for you to have them in relative obscurity, among friends, than in the International Spotlight.

3) Assess and re-assess your own efforts, with scorching honesty.

If you are a musician, record yourself, listen to the recordings, then listen to twenty recordings by artists you admire. (If there are not twenty artists you admire, you are a narcissist; please go away.) If you are a writer, write 500 pages of manuscript, put it away, read 10 great novels, then reread your manuscript. If you are an artist, paint 20 paintings, then go to the Met, the MoMA, and the Tate; also visit the sophomore painting seminar at your local community college. If you are a fashion designer, learn to sew, and wear your own designs. Examine your body afterwards, for chafe marks, and the clothing, for unplanned gaps, puckers, and holes.

Compare and contrast. Have a hard-assed friend or two do likewise.

4) Learn to consider criticism objectively.

This does not mean knuckling under to every spiteful, ignorant comment that is casually flung your way; nor does it mean ignoring the 50 people who point out the exact same weakness in the exact same thing you showed them last time. Know your standards and objectives, and adhere to them with integrity and humility.

5) Show sincere interest in other people's work.

Nobody wins friends and influences people by talking about themselves at every opportunity. Get out and meet people, find out what they're doing, and talk about it. You may learn something, and you may make genuine friends.

6) Market.

Don't hide your light under a bushel; websites and blogs are easy to create, and very cheap. Postcards, ditto. But do not push the marketing to excess if you are not actively engaged in steps 1-5; you will merely demonstrate to a great many people that you are a complete jackass.

7) Give as you expect to receive.

This, perhaps, is the toughest prescription to follow. An aspiring creative person is, frequently, a chronically penurious one; she may feel that she is perpetually at the bottom of the heap, and has nothing to offer except for her Shining Talent, which ought to be enough.

It isn't. At the very least you can offer a listening ear, and an occasional home-cooked meal, to a friend in similar straits. If you can offer these things to a friend, it is but one step to offering them to someone with a bit more clout. Cultivate an attitude of serene, overflowing generosity, rather than Desperate Deprivation. People will want to be around you.

Do not, however, try to manipulate people with a 'tit for tat' agenda, however artfully concealed. This is bound to backfire; people do not like feeling beholden. Also, if a person proves themselves to be the sort of parasite who takes and takes without reciprocating, stop giving and walk away. There is no point in being a patsy.

A genuine, fruitful connection proceeds organically, with both parties to the endeavor giving willingly, within their means, at their own pace.

8) Handle your finances realistically.

Pretty Lady has already written on this issue at length; she has only to add that nobody ever got famous by shopping. And if you DO hit the jackpot, for heaven's sake don't fly off the handle and become a drug addict. Invest, invest, invest! If you have a chunk of money socked away in real estate, mutual funds, and money market accounts, you can afford to tell your skeevy dealer, craven producer, or double-dealing agent to take a hike, instead of being a slave to whatever crass mogul happens to hold your leash.


And finally, for a truly inspiring portrait of a person who combined grinding hard work, realistic self-assessment, canny perspicacity, and timely intrepidity to realize a Dazzling Career out of the depths of poverty, Pretty Lady recommends Act One: the autobiography of Moss Hart. Her seventh-grade teacher handed it to her, when she was in seventh grade, saying "I think you'll like this." Pretty Lady still has no idea how she knew, but still rereads it every five or ten years.

How to Settle (or not)

Darlings, Pretty Lady must be quite, quite serious with you this morning. For it strikes her that in the Matrimonial Wars, a lot of people are getting away with hyperbole and half-truths, brought on, no doubt, by a lack of guidance from Experienced Elders. Pretty Lady is not quite an Elder, yet, but the one thing she does have is Experience. And so she will share it with you, in an attempt to prevent some of you from making Terrible Mistakes.

On the one hand, we have a bit of pragmatic advice from a lady who made the hyperbolic and quixotic decision to while away her wait for Prince Charming by becoming a Single Mother, on purpose, with a Sperm Donor. Thus we understand that this person's nature is already given to extremes:

My advice is this: Settle! That’s right. Don’t worry about passion or intense connection. Don’t nix a guy based on his annoying habit of yelling “Bravo!” in movie theaters. Overlook his halitosis or abysmal sense of aesthetics. Because if you want to have the infrastructure in place to have a family, settling is the way to go. Based on my observations, in fact, settling will probably make you happier in the long run, since many of those who marry with great expectations become more disillusioned with each passing year.

And then we have the predictable Idealist Backlash:

At this point, you realize the entire article is reactionary bullshit the author herself doesn’t believe. How do I know? If she really thinks that being married to a closeted gay man who exchanges housework for her willingness to pretend she doesn’t know what he does on weekend nights, then she would go husband-hunting at her local ex-gay meeting. If you want to be a beard, then there’s an easy, quick, no-nonsense solution for you. I don’t see how it couldn’t work.

Now, now, everybody. Settle down. Pretty Lady means it.

For it strikes her that here we have a classic case of ill-defined terms. Our underlying assumptions regarding these terms may be vastly different; moreover, our experience with reality may encompass similar extremes. On top of it all, Pretty Lady has noticed a distressing tendency in modern society to treat other human beings as mere shopping-mall commodities; as interchangable appendages of Image and Status, and not as the unique package-deal phenomenae that each and every one of us are.

So let us get a few things straight.

First of all, as you well know, Pretty Lady has many times experienced that passionate high, that luminous miracle, that overwhelming compulsion commonly referred to as True Love. She is intimately familiar with the instantaneous familiarity, the roseate view, the suspension of time and physics which accompanies it; she has explored its channels and vicissitudes from haloed beginning to apocalyptic end, time and again.

And she is certain of one thing: This feeling has nothing to do with actual love. It is a strong indication that the object of one's passion has triggered an unhealed Issue in one's psyche, which requires addressing in order to achieve genuine emotional maturity.

This is not to say that one should shun this feeling of True Love, or refuse to explore it. It is merely to say that things are bound to end badly. Be certain to take notes on why that should be, and how to do better next time.

Second of all: if you are the sort of person who sees no ethical problem with dumping a person with whom you have excellent conversation, compatible values, and decent chemistry, simply because you think you can do better, you are a jerk and an asshole and deserve to die alone and forgotten. See above, viz. the commodification of actual human beings. It is narcissistic and disgusting to treat another person as merely a vehicle for the aggrandizement of one's ego; it is a particularly noxious form of parasitism which states, 'well, he's fine for the time being, but I really couldn't consider marrying anyone who wasn't richer/better looking/funnier/more adventurous in bed.'

Ladies, we have a word for the fellow who tells you, "You're nice and all that, but you really need to lose a few pounds." If we expect Equal Rights, we must take equal responsibility for not being Total Pigs.

So: when a person with actual integrity is deciding whether to Settle for her current swain, or to continue trolling the deeps for her soulmate, it is PARAMOUNT to understand that you are not choosing between Mr. Present Tense and Mr. Future Perfect. You are choosing between Mr. Present Tense and being ALONE.

As Pretty Lady's friends know, she once made this painful and difficult choice. The potential partner in question was, really, a dream come true--handsome, wealthy, debonair, adventurous, and inherently monogamous. He also had a quite splendid extended family, with whom Pretty Lady fell collectively in love, and passionately wanted children, who would, of course, be raised on two or three continents simultaneously, surrounded by loving family and friends.

It is important to understand that Pretty Lady did not feel that she could do better than this man. In fact, she was quite convinced that if she left him, she would undoubtedly do worse.

However, looking ten years down the projected line, Pretty Lady saw her future self, and she did not like what she saw. She saw a frustrated, passive-aggressive person who would be unable to constrain herself from doing things which would cause herself and her family great harm. The fact is, she and her paragon were simply not compatible, and something indelible inside Pretty Lady knew it.

So, in order to spare him this travesty, Pretty Lady called it off. Remaining with him for pure social and financial advantage would have been inexcusably selfish. In fact, he found a genuinely compatible lady, and due to Pretty Lady's honest communication and heartfelt recommendation, lived happily ever after. Pretty Lady wrote him a thank-you note for being such a splendid boyfriend, and he wrote her a similar encomium.

And as it happens, having honestly dealt with her Issues, Pretty Lady didn't have to settle for eternal solitude, after all.

So it seems to Pretty Lady that there are varying degrees of Settling, and the author of this article lumps them all in together, willy-nilly. Pretty Lady will enumerate her personal list of Unacceptable Traits in a Matrimonial Partner, which obviate settling of any kind, and automatically strike the person from the lists:

1) Do not marry someone who is gay. Not even if you were molested as a child, and thus find your spouse's sexual revulsion toward yourself to be vaguely reassuring. You will be bound to feel abandoned, creeped out and despondent when he inevitably disappears into the next room with a 'friend.'

2) Do not marry an alcoholic or a drug addict.

3) Do not marry someone who is severely mentally ill.

4) Do not marry a philanderer.

5) Do not marry a compulsive gambler, or who otherwise demonstrates flagrant financial irresponsibility.

Beyond these obvious no-nos, the only necessary traits in a spouse, according to Pretty Lady's rock-bottom list, are:

1) Good conversationalist. You will be conversing with this person, if all goes well, for the rest of your life; make sure you're not bored.

2) Compatible values. This includes values regarding sex, money, and personal responsibility. It is no good marrying a chatty, engaging polyamorist if you are fundamentally monogamous.

3) Decent chemistry. Earthshattering fireworks are not required, but do not marry someone who repulses you. This sort of thing pushes normal everyday conflicts over the top, rather than assisting in resolving them.

If these three items are full and present in your relationship, you are not Settling at all. You are Sensible and Mature. Please reproduce, now.

Creative Parenting

Pretty Lady has received this query from Magpie Girl:

Do you have any advice for the mother-artists in the world? Is it at all possible to have three jobs: parent, artist, and civil servant for instance? Any or all PL readers with serious, proven advice...do tell!

Pretty Lady, first, invites her readers to make substantial contributions to this subject, particularly Boysmom and Chris, and any of you other, actual creative parents out there. Not being, yet, an actual parent, Pretty Lady approaches this subject with unaccustomed humility.

Her humility does not extend so far, however, as to prevent her from making an observation or two.

For Pretty Lady has traveled far, and known a lot of very interesting people. Some of these have been parents; some single parents, some bohemian parents, and some have been single bohemian parents who were very singular indeed.

And her central observation is this: Children who have one stay-at-home parent, particularly a stay-at-home parent with a healthy sense of creativity, ingenuity, and wonder at the myriad miracles life has to offer, tend to become extraordinary human beings. Children who don't--well, some of them do just fine, she guesses.

Case in point: when Pretty Lady met the three adolescent offspring of her French boyfriend's uncle, she expected them to be Horrible. She did not attach any special animus to this expectation; it is, simply, normal for astonishingly good-looking and preternaturally bright adolescents to go through an extended phase of believing that they are The Cheese, and everyone else is nada. So she philosophically braced herself.

Imagine her surprise, then, when these three stunning teens demonstrated themselves to be real, honest-to-goodness Sterling People. Not content with being merely polite, they actually liked non-teenagers, and treated them as equals. They demonstrated open affections, humanitarian initiative, and playful creativity. They passed from blithe childhood to responsible, lively adulthood with seemingly no Awkward Phases at all. The evenings spent in their household were some of the most memorably Dickensian of Pretty Lady's life.

This household, by the way, consisted of a stay-at-home Daddy who spent his time building the house by hand--including splendid inventions like a combination stone fireplace/spiral staircase, and boys' loft bedrooms fitted out like a sailing ship--inventing and playing fanciful musical instruments, and managing local bands from home. Mommy was the village doctor. She was exceedingly popular, if a bit over-worked.

Then there was the twelve-year-old Canadian girl that Pretty Lady tutored briefly in Mexico. Her mother was not only single and insolvent, but borderline--well, Pretty Lady has sworn off gossip. The daughter was The Stuff. Pretty Lady considered kidnapping her, so wondrously balanced, charming, and free from guile was this child. She had been knocking blithely about the world with her erratic parent since birth; what she lacked in formal education she made up for in enthusiastic Worldly Experience. There were some rocky days when she turned fourteen, but the last word is that she's in college now, and doing fine.

However, the single mother who parked her three-year-old, sometimes for days at a time, with the maid and her family while working an uninspiring university job was obviously well on her way to raising a self-destructive, rage-filled delinquent. It did not help that the maid's son was a child molester.

This brings us to Pretty Lady's only semi-informed and anecdotal, but nevertheless strong opinion: Working a civil service job, parking your child in day care, and spending your evenings in the studio is the worst possible thing you could do. It communicates to your child that absolutely everything in the world is more important to you than his or her company. This strikes Pretty Lady as a veritable recipe for spawning a homicidal maniac, or at the very least a hopeless drug addict. Do anything else before you do that.

Instead, if at all possible, figure out a way to work from home, and engage your child in some creative way. You might form a home-schooling co-op. You might expatriate to a cheaper country, and teach World History, Geography, Economics and foreign languages on location. If you have a supportive, employed spouse, engage your creativity in living thriftily on a single salary.

Also, it is Pretty Lady's observation that children who interact regularly with a sizable number of different, creative adults, provided those adults are not child-molesters, tend to become more balanced and self-confident than those who are overly sheltered. Experience of a diverse community allows the child to 1) observe that all adults are different, and that's perfectly fine, which is not necessarily obvious to the cosseted mama's infant; and 2) find an adult or two with whom there is a temperamental resonance. It is infinitely comforting, particularly to the developing adolescent mind, to feel that one is not the only alien freak of one's kind.

Pretty Lady now opens the floor for suggestions.

How to Survive, Financially, as an Artist

Some days it seems as though Pretty Lady is the last person in the world to be cavalierly dispensing Financial Advice. Indeed, it seems as though she has spent much of the last twenty years in biting fingernails, tearing out hair, nursing ulcers, counting pennies, and slinging accumulated debt from low-interest credit card to lower-interest credit card. However, when Pretty Lady looks around her, she notes two things: she's still here, and she's still making art.

So if you, darlings, wish to be here and making art in twenty years, you could do worse than to listen to Pretty Lady.

The first thing to bear in mind, when contemplating a career of artistic semi-solvency, is that there is no one-size-fits all method for coping with the problems inherent upon artistic survival. For instance, when Pretty Lady was on the brink of graduating, for the very first time, with an honors art degree and no obviously marketable skills, the word in the halls was, "Drive a UPS truck!"

This advice filled Pretty Lady with deep horror. Paint-stained overalls may be a badge of lapsed patrician honor, forgivably eccentric, but once a person dons a pair of chocolate-brown shorts and matching shirt, all hope of re-admittance to the global cultural aristocracy is closed forever. It seemed a fine thing, at nineteen, to wallow in brotherhood with the underclass, but when the reality of endless double-parking on hectic avenues loomed before her, Pretty Lady, sadly, faltered.

Fortunately, driving a UPS truck turned out to be neither Pretty Lady's best nor only option. Which brings us to our principles.

1) Play to your strengths.

One must never lose sight of one's goal, which is to spend as much time as possible in the studio, creating Great Art. To do so, one must have 1) a studio and 2) time to spend in it. Thus, one's financial objectives must center upon earning the most money in the least possible amount of time, preferably legally.

So if you have a knack for computer systems administration ($80-$150/hr) or stripping ($100-$500+/night), it is both foolish and masochistic to contemplate a job making espresso ($7/hr, plus minimal tips) or working behind a desk at a gallery (free-$10/hr) just because people who make espresso and sit in galleries project a hipper-than-thou attitude while doing so.

(In fact, it is important to remember that anyone who puts on such an attitude is doing so because this attitude is literally their only asset. A word to the wise.)

2) Prioritize.

Pretty Lady has lost count of the wannabe artists she has talked to who 'hoped to be able to afford a studio, someday.' Hello?

When Pretty Lady graduated from art school, her high-priority list was as follows:

1) Studio space.
2) Food.

Her no-priority list included, but was not limited to:

1) New car.
2) Fancy neighborhood.
3) TV, and all cable permutations thereof.
4) Any newly invented or newly available electronic gadgetry.
5) Haircuts.
6) New clothing, except insofar as that required to produce income, and to prevent public nudity.
7) Eating out.
8) Drugs.
9) Health insurance.

Of course, these lists have changed radically over time, and as Pretty Lady's experience has expanded, so have her priorities. However, she continues to execute a simple cost-benefit analysis every time she contemplates a purchase: to wit, "Is this item worth the number of hours I will have to spend working to pay for it?" If the answer is 'no,' she does not need a Palm pilot.

It is important to make these sorts of priority lists, and use them to calculate exactly how much income is required to meet one's priorities. Then make a calculation as to the minimum wage one must earn in order to spend at least 20 hours per week in the studio. If a job does not meet this minimum, the job is not acceptable, at least not in the long term. Period.

3) Civil service.

It sometimes seems to Pretty Lady that the arts and the civil service were made for one another. A civil service job requires no initiative, no overtime, and no mental energy to speak of. It provides benefits, and is nearly impossible to get fired from. If artists do not take civil service jobs, they will be filled by vaguely malicious drones with the intellect, imagination and humanitarian goodwill of a fruit fly; an artist will at least put in the requisite hours of bureaucratic drudgery with a bemused smile and a colorful wardrobe. It is a win-win situation.

4) Healthcare.

When Pretty Lady was considering study in the healing professions, some years back, she took a look at the cost/wage ratio in several fields. She noticed at the time that Registered Nursing required a large amount of expensive schooling, with an inexcusably low annual salary at the end of it. So she went into massage therapy instead.

Since then, there has been a nursing shortage of epic proportions. RNs now make upwards of $65K a year, and the schools are jammed. You had better reserve your spot now.

5) Familial supplementation.

At last, the Sordid Truth arises. If you have a Trust Fund, please go away. Hit the "Rent Fund" button on your way out.

If, however, you have a decent middle-class family who is honestly concerned about your welfare, treat them kindly. Do not be asking for handouts in order to flush it away on silly things like rent. You can earn your rent yourself.

Instead, consider asking for a loan of a down-payment on a piece of real estate, or a co-sign on a mortgage. Real estate is very rarely a bad investment, when one considers that even if the selling price goes down, for some insane reason, you would still have lost more by renting.

6) Expatriation.

There are still countries in the world where U.S. currency is worth a great deal more, in purchasing power, than the local one. These countries are growing fewer every day, so you had better go to South America, Indonesia and Thailand while you still can. While you are abroad, tell everyone you are Canadian. For obvious reasons.

7) Self-employment.

A few things you can sell, online or on the streets of foreign places: jewelry, clothing, fancy lotion, soap, CDs. Only sell this last if you are the performer on the CD, and if you are good. It is easier to make a living, singing in small-town bars in foreign countries, than by Getting Discovered in centers of world capitalism, by the way.

8) Blue-collar employment.

Do you have any idea what competent carpenters, electricians, plumbers and housepainters make, these days?

9) Grants.

Please.

Pretty Lady must offer a very serious caveat. If you are young, and brash, and brilliant, and optimistic, and confident, and you look at NYFA Source or various Arts Council websites and think, "There are TONS of grants out there! I'll just apply for them!" you will be flipping burgers and waiting tables for a very long time.

Go ahead and apply, of course. Just don't predicate your future existence as an artist upon the receipt of one.

10) MFAs.

Don't. Just don't.


You will note that in the above list, Pretty Lady has said absolutely nothing about dealers, gallerists, art fairs, teaching jobs, government assistance or other Art World paraphernalia. This is because it is her fixed, experiential conviction that if artists in general maintain a state of emotional passivity and financial dependence upon these things, the condition of Art and Artists will continue its dismal and precipitate decline into decadence, inanity, and Fatuous Pandering. This is not to say that there are not honest dealers with Taste out there; it is to say that there will be more of them if the lousy ones stop getting away with it.

Prescription for Peace

Happy New Year, darlings! Pretty Lady's second anniversary is upon us! Uncharacteristically, she cannot really find the words to thank you all, for your kindness, your friendship, your mentorship, your humor, and your lively, witty discussions. You have given Pretty Lady far more than you know.

In fact, darlings, you have given Pretty Lady the thing she has been seeking since time began; you have bestowed upon her Inner Peace. And now that she has glimpsed it, she wishes to extend this glorious, expansive, limpid tranquility to the wide world beyond. She does this in perfect trust and sincerity, with confidence that her message will be heard and passed along, to every corner of this troubled planet. Are you ready?

1) We must pay what we owe.

2) We must forgive our debtors.

And peace shall be upon us. Simple! Just like that!

Of course, just because attaining inner and outer peace is simple, does NOT mean it is easy. Pretty Lady herself cannot begin to imagine all the unpaid debts she must track down and remedy; she privately suspects that these debts may number into the hundreds of thousands, including the lunch invitation from the Asian coworker in 1992 (thank you, dear Cynthia!). The best Pretty Lady can do is balance her checkbook, send out a host of thank-you notes, and give stern instructions to the Holy Spirit to alert her of any grievous lapses.

Which is why #2 is so crucial.

For, darlings, if we go seeking Justice, in the form of Worldly Vengeance and Restitution, peace shall never come upon us. Pretty Lady rather doubts that she shall ever receive an adequate apology from any of her former partners in Codependent Dysfunction; she will have to take this as read, and Move On. (It is, in fact, her inchoate theory that moving to New York City brings out a person's most negative, self-defeating defensive habits to an exponential degree, rather like a toxic upheaval; she has seen this happen in both herself and in everyone she's ever known who moved here. Eventually we either get over it and move along, as competent and productive individuals, or we careen into the abyss of solipsistic despair and are never seen again. Pretty Lady gives it 50/50.)

So Pretty Lady urges you all to move with her into the Now, to embrace the Present, and to let the Past bury its dead. She suggests that all of us release the suicide bombs, the assassinations, the lies, the pollution, the disgrace, the scandal, and the slander; that we put a lid on the betrayals, the whining, the flakiness and the insincere promises. She looks into each of your eyes with the amazed wonder of an infant; she meets you all anew. And she is very pleased to do so.

Failure to Thrive

La-la-la-la-la, la la la la! Pretty Lady, she will have you know, just placed two homemade, cherry-free fruitcakes in the oven on Slow Bake, to the tune of A Winter's Solstice Reunion. This officially signals her entrance into Holiday Overdrive. All Scroogelike carpers, whiners, and holiday depressives please be forewarned, and keep your distance.

Pretty Lady has never been able to understand people who engage in such dismalness every December, simply because of Lousy Family Memories. It seems to her that if one's family of birth was lousy, the onset of adulthood is a fine and exciting opportunity to get another one. After the age of eighteen, she is fairly certain, a person is no longer a prisoner; a person may go where he likes, befriend whom she chooses, and decorate according to her own taste. There seems to her to be no excuse at all for voluntarily perpetuating Familial Dysfunction, one second longer than one is forced, by youth and economic dependence.

(In fact, she knows of at least one fellow who took to the streets of Mexico City at age 10, because of unsatisfactory nuclear family issues, and got himself adopted by a couple of gay gentlemen who took an interest in his mind. Very unfortunately, the family who could not be bothered to feed, educate, or cease beating him black and blue nevertheless felt that this environment was a danger to him, and sued to get him back. Then they recommenced the beating and the starving. Alas.)

Regardless of the existence of much misery in the world, then, Pretty Lady dares to be Happy. She is all the happier this year, because her nuclear household is unwontedly full of companionship, affection, and the building of indoor fountains. Pretty Lady finds that although the axiom 'You don't need a partner to be happy' is technically a true one, in her case it helps a lot.

In fact, she noticed that last week, upon returning home after a short absence, she found her partner slightly Moody. Wherewith, she showered him with diffident Food and Affection, and he perked up! Just like watering the garden! Pretty Lady had to admit that she was rather surprised. All too often, in past years, when she has showered a partner with home-cooked meals, casual backrubs, and a sympathetic ear, her partner has not perked up at all. All too often, she developed a habit of dumping a home-cooked meal on his doorstep, and running away, in order to avoid the inevitable Backlash--the carping, the whining, the Rage and Depression and Squirrelly Paranoia.

Pretty Lady is heartily thankful that the past is, indeed, past.

However, upon cautiously entering upon this new season of Comfort and Joy, it occurs to her that such episodes of Affection producing Squirrelly Paranoia are not exactly normal. The healthy human temperament, she is almost certain, requires Love in order to thrive. What then, does it mean when the application of generous helpings of Love to a test subject fails to produce symptoms of thriving?

Her inchoate hypothesis is that, in such instances, that person's Love receptors are occluded in some way. That Love is being given, but not received. This, in laymen's terms, is referred to as a 'block.' Just as a creative block prevents the ideas from flowing, an emotional block prevents the heart from believing it's true. This is a sad situation for all.

So what to do about this?

Well, first, Pretty Lady always recommends a Reality Check. It is always possible that what one perceives as Giving Love is not what is required by the receiver. It is no use expecting one's application of homemade fruitcakes to be received with cries of joy by a diabetic. More subtly, if one's little girl persists in an irritating infatuation with ballet, she will not thrive under a constant application of dowdy clothing and Serious Textbooks, no matter how much you think she ought to enjoy medical school. People are who they are, and the best of intentions will not change them.

However, once one's reality has been checked and double-checked, and the excellent fruitcakes are still being hurled over the wall with snarls of anti-capitalist rage, or deprecating little sniggers, it is time for a Major Check. Simply, it is time to Back The Hell Off. This is an exceptionally difficult task for the committed love-giver, as Pretty Lady is certain all her readers are; nevertheless it must be done. It is not good for the soul to hang around for much of this. As Pretty Lady can sadly attest.

It is quite possible that once one has Backed The Hell Off, that this may conclude as a permanent state of affairs. One is not a saint; one is unable, usually, to Heal the World. However, Pretty Lady is beginning to believe that if one Backs The Hell Off soon enough, before significant damage has been sustained to one's own love receptors, it is sometimes possible to merely watch, and wait, and harbor a quiet stream of love from a distance. Then, perhaps, the moment may come when a casual issuance of love goes unrejected.

Coming up next: How To Heal one's Own Blocks.

The Bar, Revisited

Darlings, Pretty Lady has seen the light; she has finally understood the reason for those silly little label things at the bottom of Desert Cat's posts. It was borne in upon her that, even if a person is cursed with near-total recall of every conversation she has had in this lifetime, ultimately she forgets in what month this conversation occurred. And the archiving function on her new template, not to put too fine a point on it, is dreadful.

So Pretty Lady was up till the wee hours on Saturday, doing that thing ex-librarians do best.

While engaged in this desultory Cataloguing of History, Pretty Lady's mind, naturally, wandered. It occurred to her that at times in every lady's life, she has got to do what she has got to do, whether it is wise or not. Specifically, there comes a time when a lady has simply got to wander alone into a bar, order a double bourbon or ten, and challenge a stranger to a game of pool.

Why has she got to do this? One may ask. One may not receive an answer. The mysteries of the wayward heart are singular and confidential. Pretty Lady does not concern herself with Motive; she merely concerns herself with Tactics.

For it is widely understood that for a single lady, a bar with a pool table in the middle of Brooklyn is the rough equivalent of a jungle in Deepest Darkest Africa, as regards the potential for loss of life and limb. Much bemoaning of this fact has been done, in progressive circles; however, the fact remains. And it seems to Pretty Lady that the focus of this bemoaning is All Wrong, from a tactical point of view.

The most outspoken of the Progressives, you see, have a tendency to preach to the persons least likely to listen; to wit, they preach to the Creeps. Moreover, they behave as though there were more Creeps out there than not--even that the vast majority of a single gender were possessed of Creeplike characteristics. It seems to Pretty Lady that the point of bifurcation, in these people's minds, boils down to Creeps, and Women.

Whereas Pretty Lady notes that a much more practical division is between Creeps, and Decent People.

A Creep, you see, is an individual who gloms on to a diminutive, intoxicated, pool-playing lady late at night and attempts to back her into a corner, or an alleyway, or his apartment. A Decent Person is the one who stands nearby, casually making sure the Creep's agenda is frustrated.

Do you see? This Decent Person is not a predator; he is not a chauvinist; he merely perceives that the pool-playing lady needs to let off a little steam, more than she needs to keep her guard up. He does not judge her for this. He does not question her ability to take care of herself. He merely hangs around, assuring himself that everything is okay.

It is a very great pity that some potential Decent People are cowed, by idealistic notions of Progressiveness, into the idea that looking out for one's fellow citizens is an offensive thing.

For as Pretty Lady has stated in the past, it is not that ladies in bars are incapable of handing a Creep's nether regions to him on a silver platter; it is that if the lady has friends around, she shouldn't have to. It is Pretty Lady's firm opinion that peace and safety are best maintained by invoking the minimum of fuss; plus, allowing a Creep to save face in a small way may prevent that selfsame Creep from coming back with a switchblade. It is always best to look at the bigger picture, before indulging in petty victories.