I'm very sad right now, and I don't have any wine left anywhere in the house so who knows how clever I'll be without that magical serum that makes me infinitely wittier and my husband more attractive.
The painting I just finished today marks the end of an unofficial series of paintings that Dave and I completed over the past six years featuring our all-time favorite model. It is the last painting of Lucie that either of us will do, because since moving three time zones away from her, we've exhausted our references of her. So it is a sad day in Casa Gluckstein, and as writing this, my husband sensed my despondency and nipped out to fetch me some wine.
I think Lucie was only about thirteen when she first started modelling for us, and you can watch her maturation from painting to painting, and our maturation as artists. She was always a game model, ready to don authentic Victorian costumes that still smelled of century old B.O. and go traipsing through a snow bank in sneakers or lose her shoes in a swamp of mud.
Here is the Last Lucie in all its sunken-in glory:
A blow-by-blow account will follow.