The runway like music is fleeting but art endures...

Maxi is waxing sentimental today. I remember a moment from my youth...a mere few years ago. I was posing for an artist in Paris and all of a sudden the upstairs neighbor came through the roof clutching the sculpture he had just completed in bronze. Apparently the work was too heavy for the floor and he and it came tumbling through. After asking the young man if he was intact and functioning we swept him up into a dust pan and poured him a brandy to soothe his shattered nerves. I sauntered (I rarely do merely walk) over to the statue and found a lovely face staring back at me...it was as if I were looking into a mirror. It was as if my face and form were sculpted in bronze and in fact the sculpture was truly of...well yes, of course, me...

How did the artist sculpt me? He never met me... It turns out that this budding Rodin was spying on me through the floorboard of his upstairs garret and sculpting and pouring, molding and casting as I was painted in the studio below. It also explains the structural damage of the floor and ceiling (same thing but I had to clarify)...

This Pygmalion was drilling small holes into his floor throughout his atelier so he could see me at all my many angles and best sides...and because he had drilled so many holes into his planking the swiss cheese boards collapsed...

He met and thanked me, his ego and vertebrae bruised and I kissed him and the sculpture...





Art, at its best, does truly imitate life and Maxi imitates both life and art...

I do love bronze but it is the third prize at the Olympics...I suggested the next casting should be at least silver if not gold...oh, what about platinum...

Maxi has never been platinum...never...

I may be bronzed but my heart is soft and velvet for you...

Maxi