Statuesque

Louise R stands in the doorway of a sun-washed Mediterranean terrace and the word "statuesque" suddenly seems insufficient. In a scarlet red lace teddy with a delicate bow at the waist, she poses barefoot on the cool terracotta tiles against the intricate scrollwork of a wrought iron gate, potted plants framing her on either side, whitewashed walls glowing behind her in the afternoon light. Her enormous cascade of platinum blonde hair tumbles past her shoulders in golden waves, and the combination of that red lace against the clean white of the walls is as striking as anything painted on a gallery wall. She is not so much standing in this space as occupying it -- completely, magnificently, inevitably.

She moves between the gate and the wooden bar stool with easy command, unhooking and slipping the red lace teddy away with the unhurried grace of someone who has been statuesque their entire life and has never once needed to try. Bare and breathtaking in the warm Mediterranean light, surrounded by plants and stone and that beautiful iron gate, Louise proves that the finest sculpture in any setting has always been her.

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