"She tells me that age distills more than it diminishes." This. That sentence. The whole essay, actually bore so many gifts. I'd never heard of Maria Lassnig until this morning, reading your post. Her use of color and form astounds, a wry sense of humor indeed. Yes, to Abigail, for sure as mentors go...maybe not a mentor, as much as an inspiration to me to free myself up. I adore her. And you, my dear Rona. I'm enthralled by your vision, by the details you observe. Your eye, and your ability to discern and convey teach me every time I read your work. Much love to you. Every time some younger person calls me "ma'am" they're asking to be strangled. xoxo
I used to bristle when fellow TTC riders stood up to offer me their seat. Now I typically give someone a ‘look’ until they move aside so that I can sit down. I guess this is the commuter’s grip of old age.
I recall the first time I went to Venice. I was a pup of twenty-eight. Everyone lined up to see the treasures offered in galleries and museums. I did my fair share of sightseeing, but my most profound memory formed while sitting at a table on the rooftop of my pension, surrounded by flowers and other guests. I studied the walls of painted stucco. Layer upon layer of varying colours were revealed in spaces where chunks of stucco had come away. It was at that moment I felt the essence of Venice; she was a dowager, proud and strong, wearing pearls around a wrinkled neck. Everywhere I looked, she was there, ageing with dignity but ageing nonetheless. I have carried her in my heart all these years, and now she sits with me as I sort through my pearls.
This is a marvelous tribute to Maria Lassnig, and to yourself as well--both exemplifying the double helix of old age and creativity, entwined until the very end. My new post this morning also deals with old age, which showed up much earlier in the 16th century, as seen in this masterpiece of the Northern Renaissance: https://brooksriley.substack.com/p/through-the-fourth-wall
As ever Rona you have given me much to think about this morning. It IS weird to think as much about old (vs age) as I do lately, just turned 74. You always make things clearer. Better.
Oh and I loved the line ‘no fucks given’. (As If - the guilt, many f-ups, panics, regrets - what memoirs are made of) really it’s a great line. Todays wish/wistful thinking.
For vibrancy and vitality, I vote for Jane Fonda and Joan MacDonald (of recent Internet Fitness Fame). Both attitude and physicality matter greatly to me, though I realize that the first is much more within my control.
I don’t know Joan but love Jane. My mother used to warn, in the 60s, that if I didn’t shape up, I would end up like “Henry Fonda’s daughter Jane,” then in her Vietnam firebrand phase. If only.
Thanks for the introduction to yet another amazing artist, Rona. I see defiance in Maria's self-portraits. She forces us to see her for who she is and to understand her power, especially in "Lady with Brain." As a young woman, I did not think I was beautiful, so I lead with my brain instead of my body. It is still one of the primary ways I define myself and I wonder sometimes who I would be if my brain and memory no longer functioned the same way. There is family history of dementia, so who knows what will happen.
I have wonderful mentors to show me the way as I age. My still-sharp 93-year-old friend stopped travelling independently eight years ago after she lost her sight. She still walks each day by herself (complaining about her need for a walker) and enjoys a glass of Scotch in the evening. Many of the residents in her building celebrate 100th birthdays, so that's what she's aiming for!
I've broken many rules in my life and I intend to break as many as I can in 'old age' :)
I was just about to say: distills, more than diminishes!” Great line.
And that of the portal. So true.
I volunteered in a nursing home for several years; I saw all of those residents as a portal to that which none of us can comprehend- but it was always there…. That feeling, that they were a lot closer to “another land.” Old age is a lot like that as well.
Thank you for this, my favorite read of the morning. I’m 65 and somewhat immobilized by ankle surgery done two weeks ago. I normally do yoga/pilates four times a week and regularly walk 3-8 miles a day, so this experience has been humbling, depressing and enlightening.
Perhaps our multi-level house and garden are no longer appropriate for a body affected by rheumatoid arthritis and decades of active living. Maybe the sleek, steep stairs and walls of glass and beautiful modernity no longer serve me to the fullest. You’ve invited me to consider the truth of aging alongside the wonder of living. Dammit. And thank you.
Oh, Kim. Heal well. Your normal fitness routine is remarkable for one who lives with rheumatoid arthritis. Sounds like you’ve made a beautiful and expressive home that would be hard to leave. There are indeed times to say “dammit,” and yet there’s still so much to savour and celebrate
Those paintings are challenging so i can see why they are captivating. I'm 62 as is my wife and we are both clinging to midlife as much as we can through taking care of our health and our bodies. We have two young grandchildren and will probably have a few more soon so I think about being around to experience their young adult selves in addition to their childhoods. Thanks Rona for another great meditative essay.
I hadn't seen Maria Lassnig's art before and it is really striking.
I'm a decade younger than you, but very aware that with my parents and aunt gone, there is no older generation on my side of the family. I'm getting closer to the end of the diving board!
I adore Abigail Thomas. Absolutely an inspiration and mentor. And there are so many women writing well here, not necessarily about ageing, but acknowledging that they are ageing. I'm finding it empowering.
I love this essay and am also loving how much Substack has brought so many older women writers who write about aging into my world. I’ve long been a fan of Diana Athill but always thought of her as a kind of anomaly, a rarity—in her writing as an old person yet with no diminishment of any kind. Now I know that isn’t the case.
Rona, thank you so very much for introducing me to Maria Lassnig. Her art definitely stops one rooted in place. Wow. I will enjoy learning more about her. And your words, Rona, as always give me pause, in a positive way, reminding me to consider and stay present even amidst any discomfort. I saw myself in your post, still floating at 69 in a pool of denial, lucky that I even can still float. Thanks for sharing your journey. It inspires. 💚💚💚
This is a really lovely essay. Thank you for showing us how it’s done, Rosa! It’s beautiful, quirky, bold, funny, and thought-provoking. It’s also, for me, a little sad, reminding me that time waits for no one, and I better get cracking.
"She tells me that age distills more than it diminishes." This. That sentence. The whole essay, actually bore so many gifts. I'd never heard of Maria Lassnig until this morning, reading your post. Her use of color and form astounds, a wry sense of humor indeed. Yes, to Abigail, for sure as mentors go...maybe not a mentor, as much as an inspiration to me to free myself up. I adore her. And you, my dear Rona. I'm enthralled by your vision, by the details you observe. Your eye, and your ability to discern and convey teach me every time I read your work. Much love to you. Every time some younger person calls me "ma'am" they're asking to be strangled. xoxo
Nan, it’s such a pleasure to know you. Which is worse, do you think—“ma’am” or “dear” and its treacly variants?
Yes. I do. Dump them all into the treacly variant bin and set them on fire. Love knowing you, too!
"Miss Vi" when voiced by strangers is enough to gag me!!!!
I used to bristle when fellow TTC riders stood up to offer me their seat. Now I typically give someone a ‘look’ until they move aside so that I can sit down. I guess this is the commuter’s grip of old age.
Ah, yes, the offered seat. I know the progression you describe.
Very much enjoy reading your Substack. My wife Karen hosts some IWF book club meetings, next one here I will drop by to say ‘hello’.
Say hi to Karen for me. We appreciate the home for our gatherings.
I recall the first time I went to Venice. I was a pup of twenty-eight. Everyone lined up to see the treasures offered in galleries and museums. I did my fair share of sightseeing, but my most profound memory formed while sitting at a table on the rooftop of my pension, surrounded by flowers and other guests. I studied the walls of painted stucco. Layer upon layer of varying colours were revealed in spaces where chunks of stucco had come away. It was at that moment I felt the essence of Venice; she was a dowager, proud and strong, wearing pearls around a wrinkled neck. Everywhere I looked, she was there, ageing with dignity but ageing nonetheless. I have carried her in my heart all these years, and now she sits with me as I sort through my pearls.
An apt and resonant analogy, beautifully expressed.
This is a marvelous tribute to Maria Lassnig, and to yourself as well--both exemplifying the double helix of old age and creativity, entwined until the very end. My new post this morning also deals with old age, which showed up much earlier in the 16th century, as seen in this masterpiece of the Northern Renaissance: https://brooksriley.substack.com/p/through-the-fourth-wall
Thank you, Brooks. I’m glad we met here, loved your essay and have subscribed.
As ever Rona you have given me much to think about this morning. It IS weird to think as much about old (vs age) as I do lately, just turned 74. You always make things clearer. Better.
Oh and I loved the line ‘no fucks given’. (As If - the guilt, many f-ups, panics, regrets - what memoirs are made of) really it’s a great line. Todays wish/wistful thinking.
Happy birthday, Tam! Good to see you here.
For vibrancy and vitality, I vote for Jane Fonda and Joan MacDonald (of recent Internet Fitness Fame). Both attitude and physicality matter greatly to me, though I realize that the first is much more within my control.
I don’t know Joan but love Jane. My mother used to warn, in the 60s, that if I didn’t shape up, I would end up like “Henry Fonda’s daughter Jane,” then in her Vietnam firebrand phase. If only.
Love Jane. Now I need to research Joan. Thanks, Evelyn!
Laughed out loud at your last line, Rona. Hit squad, yep. Not elderly. Not a crone... And refusing to be invisible.
I’m so glad you laughed, Julie. We need laughter more than ever.
Thanks for the introduction to yet another amazing artist, Rona. I see defiance in Maria's self-portraits. She forces us to see her for who she is and to understand her power, especially in "Lady with Brain." As a young woman, I did not think I was beautiful, so I lead with my brain instead of my body. It is still one of the primary ways I define myself and I wonder sometimes who I would be if my brain and memory no longer functioned the same way. There is family history of dementia, so who knows what will happen.
I have wonderful mentors to show me the way as I age. My still-sharp 93-year-old friend stopped travelling independently eight years ago after she lost her sight. She still walks each day by herself (complaining about her need for a walker) and enjoys a glass of Scotch in the evening. Many of the residents in her building celebrate 100th birthdays, so that's what she's aiming for!
I've broken many rules in my life and I intend to break as many as I can in 'old age' :)
Margaret, I’m with you on defiance—in these paintings and in a fine old age. Here’s to breaking rules and living large with all our marbles.
I was just about to say: distills, more than diminishes!” Great line.
And that of the portal. So true.
I volunteered in a nursing home for several years; I saw all of those residents as a portal to that which none of us can comprehend- but it was always there…. That feeling, that they were a lot closer to “another land.” Old age is a lot like that as well.
Yes, age is a country known only to those who live there. Thank you, Joan.
Dear Rona,
Thank you for this, my favorite read of the morning. I’m 65 and somewhat immobilized by ankle surgery done two weeks ago. I normally do yoga/pilates four times a week and regularly walk 3-8 miles a day, so this experience has been humbling, depressing and enlightening.
Perhaps our multi-level house and garden are no longer appropriate for a body affected by rheumatoid arthritis and decades of active living. Maybe the sleek, steep stairs and walls of glass and beautiful modernity no longer serve me to the fullest. You’ve invited me to consider the truth of aging alongside the wonder of living. Dammit. And thank you.
Oh, Kim. Heal well. Your normal fitness routine is remarkable for one who lives with rheumatoid arthritis. Sounds like you’ve made a beautiful and expressive home that would be hard to leave. There are indeed times to say “dammit,” and yet there’s still so much to savour and celebrate
Those paintings are challenging so i can see why they are captivating. I'm 62 as is my wife and we are both clinging to midlife as much as we can through taking care of our health and our bodies. We have two young grandchildren and will probably have a few more soon so I think about being around to experience their young adult selves in addition to their childhoods. Thanks Rona for another great meditative essay.
You two aren’t even “young old” yet. I wish you both many happy years with your expanding family.
I hadn't seen Maria Lassnig's art before and it is really striking.
I'm a decade younger than you, but very aware that with my parents and aunt gone, there is no older generation on my side of the family. I'm getting closer to the end of the diving board!
I adore Abigail Thomas. Absolutely an inspiration and mentor. And there are so many women writing well here, not necessarily about ageing, but acknowledging that they are ageing. I'm finding it empowering.
Thank you, Wendy. Yes, it’s unnerving to arrive at the front of the line. At this stage of life, every story I tell is to some degree about time.
I love this essay and am also loving how much Substack has brought so many older women writers who write about aging into my world. I’ve long been a fan of Diana Athill but always thought of her as a kind of anomaly, a rarity—in her writing as an old person yet with no diminishment of any kind. Now I know that isn’t the case.
Thank you, Anna. We are a growing tribe on Substack, and I’m excited to be part of it. https://open.substack.com/pub/debbieweil/p/bold-ladies-who-write?r=ngwcq&utm_medium=ios
Rona, thank you so very much for introducing me to Maria Lassnig. Her art definitely stops one rooted in place. Wow. I will enjoy learning more about her. And your words, Rona, as always give me pause, in a positive way, reminding me to consider and stay present even amidst any discomfort. I saw myself in your post, still floating at 69 in a pool of denial, lucky that I even can still float. Thanks for sharing your journey. It inspires. 💚💚💚
Being able to float is a gift. So is recognizing where you are in life. Thank you, Sue. Glad to have you here.
Just felt an urge to restack and so I did.
Well, isn’t that lovely? Thanks, Ann.
This is a really lovely essay. Thank you for showing us how it’s done, Rosa! It’s beautiful, quirky, bold, funny, and thought-provoking. It’s also, for me, a little sad, reminding me that time waits for no one, and I better get cracking.
Well, if you thought you had forever, you might never start. So there’s that. Glad you found in this one all I hoped to give my readers