IT'S A PLEASURE TO BE SAD
Wednesday, July 14, 2010 at 9:36PM 
It's a Pleasure to be Sad (Francine #4) © July 5, 2010 by Donna L. Faber, pen & ink and markers on Bristol Strathmore 100 pound smooth.
“I realized that it does not matter that you cannot love me as I wish. It matters that I love you!” Excerpted from Namaah’s Curse by Jaqueline Carey.
“Unrequited love’s a bore,
And I’ve got it pretty bad;
But for someone you adore,
It’s a pleasure to be sad.”
From “Glad to be Unhappy” by Rogers & Hart 1936.
This original portrait is in several pieces. My primary focus was the hair which started out a flat brown. I added cranberry colored extensions by laying cut out curls and strands over the base, and ended up very happy with the 3-D kind of result. Like the previous three portraits of Francine, this was a long, personal journey checkered with stray thoughts, impressions and plenty of memories.
This framed original work of art is available for purchase in our etsy shop (click right here).
The first portrait of Francine was called “Don’t Tell Me to Stop”. My muse burst forth in a strong desire to love without reservation or boundary. She was defiant and selfish in her need and wouldn’t take no for an answer. In the second portrait, called “Little Black Dress”, Francine dares us to take a chance on love. She appears in unexpected places to coax us out of our hard shells and dares us to thaw our frozen hearts. She knows our pain, but she also knows our secrets and understands us in ways we don’t understand ourselves. In the third, called “Those Lips, Those Eyes”, Francine loves through submission, and surrenders herself wholly and without reservation to the whims of another. She finds doing so both liberating and fulfilling. In this piece, which is the fourth portrait of my inner muse, Francine explores the universal feeling called unrequited love.
Unrequited love, by definition, is love that isn’t openly acknowledged, realized or reciprocated. The beloved may not be aware of the admirer’s affection. The admirer may not realize what they feel is love. It is oftentimes the subject of literature and pop-culture, described as a sensation one might consider noble, unselfish or stoic – but also obsessive, fantastical and euphoric. Think Cyrano de Bergerac, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Great Expectations and The Phantom of the Opera. Even Charlie Brown had a secret thing for the Little Red Haired Girl. The admirer has trouble expressing true feelings for many reasons, but primarily because doing so will either invite rejection or end all access to the beloved.
This takes me back to when I was a teenager and desperately in love (desperately in need) with my girlfriends. It didn’t matter if they were straight or not, my emotions were what they were, even though much of the time I was content with emotional crumbs. I couldn’t intellectually control who I loved, and I didn’t know when I was accepting less than respectful treatment. I wasn’t a social butterfly, but rather ensconced myself in the relative safety of intense one-on-one friendships. I was a lover of women even then, but beyond that, I shared a special bond with each of the young women I associated closely with. That bond emerged first for the usual chemical, spiritual, or mysterious reasons, all of which are a part of normal teenage sexual awakening. When it grew deeper, I dared not share my feelings, not directly. Circumstances were awkward at times, and now I know that it was confusing for them. Not all teenagers are as certain as I was of what they want. I knew early and had no trouble accepting it in myself. My friends were a different story. I was afraid they’d get freaked out and never speak to me again if they knew how I felt. I’d suffered enough loss by that time. A fear of abandonment had rooted itself deeply into my psyche.
If we view unrequited love through a spiritual lens, we see no possession, jealousy or insatiable and demanding hunger. The negativities of selfish love are dissolved by compassion and a genuine desire to do what is right for the beloved. There are no games. There is a commitment to wellness that surpasses conventional role playing and eliminates the need to cater to our insecurities or the egotistical needs of another.
Love simply is what it is, and as such becomes a powerful agent of change in our lives.
Francine coaxes us to self-reflection.
In what ways do we oppress ourselves? Is this a conscious or subconscious act? In what spiritual, characteristic, or material manner do we repress our thoughts, feelings or actions? Is it for fear of reprisal? Within the complex fabric of our most beloved relationships will we be put down, laughed at, or worse, completely disregarded? Do we doubt our worthiness? What is it that keeps us from striving to achieve our truest potential as women?
When unselfish and held aloft a foundation of compassion; when there are no expectations other than respect, unrequited love becomes like a rosebud waiting for spring. It is even content to slumber in winter. It is communicative, undemanding, non-judgmental, and it has the patience of the ages. In this, unrequited love can be magic and offers healing, liberation, and catharsis for the both the admirer and the beloved.
Francine matures emotionally in this portrait by loving but not demanding, and fortunately, in my adulthood, so did I. I still prefer intense on-on-one relationships that are based on a spiritual bond rather than rooted in fear. And Francine still insists on loving, but she doesn't project her needs on anyone. She has grown aware of the emotional needs of others.
I can't help but wonder. If we take away the selfishness that masquerades as love, what is left? Could it be that unrequited love in this pure and uncluttered form is simply and wonderfully … friendship?
Unrequited love is a willingness to accept suffering rather than loss. Francine speculates that for the right person and under certain circumstances, it's a pleasure to be sad.
Reader Comments