For sale: Rare! One of a kind sexy portrait of me. 1989. Artist unknown.
While packing up the garage, I came across this old portrait of myself. As I stared into my eyes I asked the me who was smirking back, “do you spark joy?” Keep only what does is one of the main rules in Marie Condo’s book https://www.amazon.com/Life-Changing-Magic-Tidying-Decluttering-Organizing-ebook/dp/B00KK0PICK but this was a tough one.
It was 1989 and I had just returned from visiting my brother in the peace corps in Mauritania, Africa. During my days with my brother’s host tribe, I spent less time learning about the irrigation system he was building and more time consumed by fever, dysentery, and severe dehydration. I just remember being curled up in fetal position in the lap of a medicine woman who occasionally spat on me to cool me down. But, this is a whole other story.
When I returned home my mom, who is always one to “strike while the iron is hot,” raced to find a photographer to shoot my portrait while I was still 10lbs down. Then I’m guessing she raced to the set of “Dynasty” to find this impressively shoulder padded and beaded dress. I was reluctant to participate but my mom insisted I do it for her “after all the things she has done for me” – like laundry, and all my take home math tests (still mad at her for only getting us a B- in Geometry) The other half of her argument was that I should want to photograph myself now because, as she assured me over and over, I will never ever be so skinny again.
And so I squeezed into that dress (“See Xenia, you have only been home a week and already this is fitting tighter”) and I sat for a make-up artist who made sure I looked 40-years-older, and then we met up with the photographer. Unfortunately, I do not have his name to give credit where it is due. I am sure, however, that my mom had hired only the best out of all the Denver area middle-aged male photographers who take photos of young girls in the basement of their hard-of-hearing mother’s home.
For months afterwards, I didn’t see any results from the shoot. I went off to college and forgot all about it. And so, I was taken off guard when I returned for winter break and there “she” was in all her glory, hanging above my parents dining room table. “She” being me, perched effortlessly on a velvet love seat in the foyer of the town’s best brothel. Sized at 18×20 inches without the frame, my portrait had soundly replaced a collection of Dutch inspired collectible plates as if they had never existed on QVC.
My parents lived and still live in a modest split level home in Boulder. The ceiling isn’t high so it took up most of the wall space, really you couldn’t not look at it. For many years “she” taunted unsuspecting dinner guests; every time one reached for the salad bowl, or passed the salt, or simply looked up to answer a question, there “she” was daring you to blink first while smiling that mysterious Mona Lisa smile.
About a decade ago I hijacked the portrait from my mom’s house while she was repainting the dining room as I figured it had had its time to shine. Now, here it was again after years of facing a wall in our garage. I was left with a tough decision on what to do given our move to Alaska. I mean, it didn’t spark joy and so I wasn’t going to pay to move it to Alaska, but I couldn’t just toss it out either. Even Marie Condo could agree there are exceptions to the rule, right?
I came to a decision. Store it for now, but eventually when I find time I will place it for auction with Sotheby’s. I wonder, should I offer it up as a pre-auction opportunity before it goes public? Hmm no, I don’t want to incite any fights among friends or family. I’ll figure it all out later, for now “Contact Sotheby’s” is yet one more item on my long to-do list.
