I saw the 1991 movie Impromptu with Judy Davis playing George Sand and her tangled liaisons with so many lovers/paramours. Wow what a life! What a camaraderie of artists. What craziness. And yet… what did I miss out on? These are heady, creative, inspiring and yes sometimes egomaniacal and flawed characters. Why do I forgive them their excesses and drama? Hindsight? Romance? Brilliance? All of the above?

Anyway, I will now listen to more Chopin and Liszt, read a full bio of the rabble-rousing Sands and add her to my list of artist/heroines including Georgia O’Keeffe, Frida Kahlo and Camille Claudel. Why is it that romantic tragedy trumps happy-ever-after in an artful life – at least in the books and movies?


the tilt of her hat

the pout on her lips

the crossing of her legs

the film noir heroine

the seduction of art



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