WHAT IS BETTER INVESTMENT? CONVERTIBLE FERRARI OR A PAINTING?

Intro: “Brush with Desire” –Journalist, Juliette LaCroix sits down with artist Claudio at Café Frederick, Berlin. A psychologist by trade, she unravels his heartbreak, guiding him past the ghost of his lost love. But how deep does devotion run when an artist paints the same woman eight times? The tension erupts in Art to Ashes, an incendiary performance where, (Chapter 4, 2024) Claudio obliterates a 200-lb purple clay skull—his rival’s effigy—with a 10lb double faced hammer sending shards flying like poetic revenge. Dressed in Versace pants, its marketing team goes bananas. Five million in media hits coverage later, he isn’t just an artist—he’s the artist with a story.©. Reading time: 4 minutes.

"I begin my interviews with a regimental thought: I imagine I'm interviewing God. It doesn’t matter who the guest is. I approach each dialogue, making it a profound exploration".  

Juliette: Pushes the record button on her Edirol recorder. Claudio, when did you first sleep with Amanda—the one who left you for Diego, the auto dealer in Spain?

Claudio: We met two years ago at the Alfa Romeo auto show in Milan during a long holiday weekend. I was struggling with the seat adjustment in a convertible when she stepped in to help. There was a hint of flirtation in her smile, but then she moved on, entertaining other visitors. I grabbed a Cinzano Aperitif and wandered around, spotting a poster competition. The first prize? A trip to Hotel Spa San Remo.

Claudio: On the big screen, a clip from Visconti’s Rocco and His Brothers played—a woman driving a convertible Alfa Romeo in a mini bathrobe. I had an idea! I’d ask Amanda to pose in the bathtub, reading poetry from Alfa Romeo’s “romantic travel guide.”

Juliette: Did she say yes?

Claudio: Yes, but only if her mom was present. I was stunned.

Juliette: I guess with her mom there, you likely dropped your brush in the bathtub bubbles.

Claudio: A bit agitated—Juliette, do you want to talk about it? I’m still mesmerized by Amanda. She has that rare allure, something irresistible. I felt like an Odysseus lotus eater, longing to be near her always.

Juliette (to Claudio): Some people rush into this blindly—it’s called idealization, emotional dependency, especially when it’s a first encounter. We’ll get back to that later.

Claudio: I told Amanda, "If your mom must be there, fine. Your portrait will likely take all day—maybe more."

Two days later, I arrived at her apartment with my art tools. She lives in Porta Garibaldi, a nice part of Milan. Her late grandfather, Carlo Vognoly, was once Milan’s mayor. She shares the spacious five-room apartment with her mom. Built around 1820 for the upper middle class, it’s been partly remodeled.

Juliette: So, the bathroom became your atelier. Was it a good space? Did it have the right light for painting?

Claudio: The room was large, with a neoclassical floor-to-ceiling window. The copper bathtub was spacious, made for two. Thick, modern blonde wood shelves lined the walls, holding colorful barrel-shaped pottery by Vietril-lava ceramic pots. Tillandsia plants filled the corners. The unexpected focal point was a bidet from Ceramica Cielo by artist Guido Emineto, in the east corner—paradoxically, the perfect spot for observing art while attending to more... personal matters.

Claudio: Yes, it was an intimate and new artistic experience for both of us. For the sketches, Amanda lay in the empty tub first. I arranged rubber cushions to elevate her body at the right angle. Using Conte brand of crayons, I began sketching on a 6 x 4-foot canvas.

Then, I heard a crisp, inviting voice—Amici, (friends). Amanda’s mother, Josephine, entered, carrying a tray of wine and Peperoni Ripieni di Formaggio cheesy bites, placing it on a side shelf. She looked to be in her early sixties, yet still striking. Kissing Amanda briefly, she turned to me.

"Claudio, I saw your picture in French Mousse Art Magazine standing in a purple jumpsuit beside your work titled "The whispered revelation of redemption". I had to meet you."

She lifted a mauve brocade cushion, placed it atop the bidet, and sat with the effortless authority of Athena.

"Claudio, I love your paintings. I checked your website—abstract, dreamy colors, a style people will adore. Mark my words, you'll rise as an artist." Her gaze shifted to Amanda in the bathtub. "I like how you positioned her—her legs at such a feminine angle." Then, pointing at me, "Go ahead, paint Amanda, don’t mind me. Art is art."

Juliette: This feels like an intimate affair, but without sex. Art steeped in the colors of life’s desires.

Claudio: After half an hour, Josephine asked, "Claudio, may I interrupt? Can you get into the bathtub with Amanda?" I tensed. Would I have to undress? Amanda wore only a bra and panties—Aubade brand. This was insane. Did her mother expect me to strip? Josephine noticed my hesitation and laughed.

"Relax, Claudio. I’m an artist, too. This is nothing sexual. Just be as comfortable as Amanda—stay in your underwear."

I exhaled, removed my trousers and tee, leaving on my Tulip briefs.

"Now," Josephine instructed, "slide next to Amanda. Lie on your back, one knee bent between her legs. Wrap your left arm around her neck. Tilt your head slightly to the right." We were choreographed like living sculpture. Then, to my surprise, Josephine reached for a Canon camera from her Vuitton bag and started taking pictures.

Juliette: Did anticipation stir within you, or did nerves take hold?

Claudio: Don’t ask. It was excruciating—a bit discomfort battling instinct. 

Meanwhile, Josephine, Amanda’s mother, clicked away, utterly unfazed. She snapped at least twenty shots, then lowered the camera with a satisfied nod.

"I think the lens captured my new fashion idea," she mused. "But I won’t reveal its purpose just yet. Give me four days."

Juliette: How did Amanda react? Did she say anything about your frustration? Her mother watching, snapping pictures of her daughter’s would-be boyfriend in his underwear?

Claudio: Amanda was unbothered, fully herself. She understood what happens when a woman releases pheromones. But not every moment between a man and woman—half-naked or not—has to be sexual.

Juliette: True. But people interpret things however they want.

Claudio: I didn’t mind. It was just another artistic experience. I stepped out of the tub, put my clothes on, and returned to my canvas, layering over my sketches with Liquitex Basic—its prismatic colors catching the light. Late afternoon, we paused for an in-house lunch. Josephine and Amanda, wrapped in Egoist Graciosa bathrobes, moved about the room picking their lunch.

Juliette thought to herself—Claudio’s tone, recounting his encounter with Amanda, felt regressive. Instead of a fluid stream of consciousness, he was stuck, reliving a moment with no return. A clear predictor of emotional fixation. Emotion-Focused Therapy (EFT) would suggest managing such emotions to rebuild or let go.

Juliette: How far along are you with Amanda’s portrait?

Claudio: By day’s end, about 70 percent. We had to continue the next day. The copper bathtub cast a warmer, golden hue, so I needed to refine the light and shadow for balance. The rest I finished in my studio. It took another 4 days.

After lunch, her mother left. I made sure the rubber cushions were positioned exactly as before. I filled the bathtub with water, adding just enough water bubbles creates a light azure hue, blending depth and clarity into the experience. Amanda slid in, nude, her body perfectly aligned. You could see her breasts, a knee bent, her eyes closed in meditative stillness. She was a nymph, the ethereal “Eve,” of 21st Century.

I painted her, as I had imagined—drawing on the ideation of Degas and Bonnard’s Woman in the Bath, Four Bathers. This was the first time I truly made love to Amanda—in the bathtub, then later in bed. Decisively rhymed, like a Barry White music — the ageless crooner of bedroom romance. I still miss her.

Juliette: In your story, I sense the quiet revelation of a man still in love with a woman.

Claudio: Yes, you feel it. How did you know?

Juliette: First, I’m a woman with refined perceptions, and I want to explain what happened psychologically with your affair with Amanda. I’ll later create a program to help you let go of her. Claudio, leave behind this Siren’s luring voice—it’s time to stop! We have enough story to rewind and remake.

Juliette: Shots of the recorder. As the athletic, light-skinned Afro-woman, dressed as a 1940s Parisian nightclub cigarette girl, approached the table and said, "I can make some magic happen. It seems you know each other well."

Claudio gave a knowing wink. She moved closer, her voice low. "I can see you’re a man ready for a magical experience. Can you stand?" She reached into my pocket.

(To be continued.)

Manner of creation. © Registered (WGA), 04. 1977 c.l: Alex Haley vs Harold Courlander. (ARR)