Woman Combing Her Hair, by Edgar Degas
I love this painting. I want to fall in love with the woman combing her hair, sitting there on the floor, towels strewn about.
She is in an efficiency apartment, facing the corner of the room. Her body is stunning, her complexion fair. Sitting comfortably on a plush rug, her right leg stretched ahead, slightly bent, her eyes remain closed. There’s no mirror to see her, not in this corner. She hums to herself, nothing you’d know, just something sweet and steady. The muscles in her shoulders curl and recede like soft ocean waves, calmed by a sturdy reef, wetting the sands. Her posture acquired during finishing school accentuates her fertile shape. She is the summation of events from childhood and her years of adulthood yet to come. Grace and beauty, comfortably on the floor, relaxed, fit, desired. Combing though her amber hair, she is alone. She needn’t see or be seen. She doesn’t have to perform, nor smile, nor laugh. I’m not here.
Below, is a reflection of how I saw the painting one night in 2006.
I love it.
I love it!