Mel Ramos
I studied Art History at the University of Ljubljana. My favorite lectures were on modern art; I was particularly drawn to the book, Art Now by Edward Lucie-Smith. Every student had a copy, and mine always opened to page 245: Mel Ramos’s Miss Cornflakes (1964). Such a happy painting, among many more depressing examples of modern art. Here is this woman with her girl-next-door smile, a purple ribbon in her hair and her naked voluptuous body sprouting out of corn. And all set against the brand, and the branding of America. To me, then, it seemed more a play on Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, but instead of a seashell, corn.
I’ve always admired Mel Ramos for his ability to extract the bright side of artistic expression. And by contrast, let’s say, Allen Jones for his talent to define a darker side. Once you’ve seen his work you can never go to someone’s house without examining the sofa or lifting up the table cloth to see exactly what’s holding up the dining room table.
And then some years ago I found myself at a New Years’ party hosted by Fletcher Benton, and who should be there but Mel Ramos and Leta, his muse, and wife, and the woman in the painting. Out of nowhere here was the one artist who could bring sunshine to my rainy Slovenia, and who caught the spirit of the effervescent woman I wanted to be… I can’t tell you the thrill. To have been on the other side of the world, and here right in front of you is the person who you discovered in an art book, in a musty classroom in Ljubljana.
Since then we have become friends, and I actually modeled for one of his drawing series. But there’s more to it. One evening Mel and Leta came for dinner, and they asked if they might bring a friend. Of course, I said, never imagining that the English gentleman in his Sherlock Holmes tartan plaid outfit standing in the front door would be Allen Jones.
It’s been 10 years; I don’t remember what we said that night. I don’t remember what I cooked or whether there was some trick moment, something said that you could repeat at dinners forever after. I only remember that Mel Ramos and Allen Jones both sent me a thank-you card afterwards and, of course, the two cards become among my most guarded treasures.
