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And while I happily took on that role, and loved the experience — uh, hello, James Franco asked to take a photo with me — there were a large number of fairgoers who were appalled that I would willingly participate in such “objectification.” Multiple people attempted to “save me” by pulling me away from the car. And while I can see where they were coming from, I didn’t see those same people trying to convince Lucien Freud’s nude subjects to walk out of his paintings ... Maybe this is very un-feminist of me to say, but growing up I was far more drawn to the idea of being the muse than the artist.I wanted to be Anna Karina to Godard, Edie Sedgwick to Warhol, and Rose to Jack.Have you ever dated a poet before reading his poems? But there are two very primary, elemental reasons why, I think, an artist is an attractive bedfellow for us citizens—us non-artists. I haven’t dated an artist in the purist, "fine art" sense. I can recall one Miami Basel in particular when I really thought I was making headway with a certain bad-boy painter, only to be quickly swept aside in favor of an eager Victoria’s Secret model.) I have, however, dated musicians, filmmakers, photographers, and writers — that is to say, people who create personal work for public consumption, all of whom inevitably share similar traits and sensibilities.It was in my early 20s when I first experienced the very particular dynamic of being romantically linked to a creator, as I began dating the singer in an indie band. The market today is a business, pure and simple — a depraved scramble for big money; it's as much about the businessmen, financiers, and lawyers as it is about the artists and their work. There seem to be a lot of young people in New York today making “art,” simply because being an artist is cool, and because of the title’s apparent link to money, power, and, well, ... But just because you have blue hair and an experimental Instagram doesn’t mean I want to fuck you — quite the opposite, in fact, especially if it means getting on the J train to deep Bushwick.The artist has always been a sex symbol of sorts — but of late, it’s become so mythologized as to have reached new, ridiculous heights.

Along with being in Richard Prince’s recent Instagram show at Gagosian, I was — in 2008 — part of Prince’s installation at London’s Frieze Art Fair.

And, my personal favorite: La Cicciolina was all over Jeff Koons’s recent Whitney show.

From a certain romantic perspective, the muse shares a very private and particular relationship with a creative person, which is then expressed to the world in a very elevated and public way.

Admittedly, I felt extremely cool the few times he wrote songs about me (and even cooler when Florence and the Machine covered one of them).

In a Vanity Fair piece about Lucian Freud, David Kamp wrote, “Freud’s women sitters were often lovers, or women who became his lovers, and, in some cases, lovers who became the mothers of his children.” Since Picasso’s death, galleries have often chosen to curate shows of his work based on which lover he was painting at the time.

Perhaps that’s because I didn’t have a powerful image of a female artist to aspire toward, and therefore, like many women, I was trained to want to be the object.

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