* * * *
I did it because I wanted to, and I was glad I did it, although we never did it again. Once was sufficient. The difference in our ages meant there was no real option for anything resembling a committed relationship. I was smart enough to realize that. And he, who had so much more knowledge than I, certainly knew it. We never talked about it, but we each understood. It was a one-time, passion filled lovemaking experience between a young girl and the man who meant so much to her. It didn’t need to be anything else and probably would have suffered diminishment had we attempted to make it more. So we didn’t.
Still, I consider it to have been a beautiful experience. It was something I was able to share with the man who had been so kind and so respectful to me. Where others in the field had left me feeling like no more than a nudie pinup girl, he always made me feel like a work of art. So it was a way for me to give something back, something that showed how I cared. It wasn’t an act of pity. Even though I knew he was sick, I still wouldn’t have done it had it been anyone other than Isaac—my inspiration. The man who always made me feel beautiful and somehow always captured that beauty in his photos. I gave of myself to him because, in my opinion, he alone deserved it.
About a week after the August photo shoot, he sent me copies of the choicest images he’d taken that day. There I was in one photo, a nude girl with her feet together and arms outstretched, a circle of light in the background framing me head to toe. Then there was the photo of me with my feet spread and my hands held higher. And then there was a photoshopped picture combining the two images such that I appeared to have two sets of arms and two sets of legs within the circle, oh-so-terribly similar to the Leonardo da Vinci drawing. I recognized the resemblance immediately.
Along with those three photos were the more erotic pictures of me. They looked so naughty, they almost made me blush. Not because I hadn’t posed for similar pics before, but because I knew Isaac had copies of these and could look at them anytime he liked. At least, I hoped he would look at them. I hoped they provided him with as much enjoyment as they could. I wanted to be an enjoyment for him.
Had he said anything in his note to me about those special photos, I might have been tempted to send him copies of some of the even racier pictures I’d posed for elsewhere. Just to see what his reaction would be. However, his note didn’t mention them. Instead, it read:
Dear Jenny,
Here are the final proofs from our last shoot. I hope you’re pleased with them.
The Vitruvian Man homage is exactly what I wanted it to be. I think it has the proper mixture of contemporary artistic values and historical reverence for the source. I won’t say it’s an improvement on the original, but, in my opinion, the only mistake Leonardo made was not choosing an angel such as you as his model.
I’ll be undergoing therapy for the next several months. So I might not have any work for you for a while. But you can be certain I’ll be calling on you again. You always were, and always will be my favorite.
Yours,
Isaac
A few months later, someone told me he died. Even though I’d been aware of his sickness, the news still came as a shock. I wasn’t prepared for his death to be so soon. Other than being a bit winded by the hike, he’d seemed so healthy when I last saw him. At first I remained in stunned silence. Then my eyes welled up and I cried. I cried to think that I would never see him again.
Then I stopped crying as I thought about how privileged I was to have had the opportunity to work with such a man. He might be gone, but his work would continue to live on in books, posters, and other publications. And I was a part of that. I would always be a part of it. And, so long as his work lived, so would I, and so would our brief connection in this world as artist and model—an inseparable pair. Perhaps an inspiration to others.
To the best of my knowledge, Isaac’s homage to da Vinci was never published. He didn’t live long enough to pursue commercial publication. Still, I have my copy, and I cherish it. To me, it stands as a representation of the heart and soul of a man who will always have my admiration and my love. In that way, it’s picture perfect.
THE END
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