Amedeo Modigliani, Seated Nude, 1914

Here Deo breaks away from some
of the conventions that he said made
him a little bourgeois at the beginning
of his career, but to my eyes, there are hints
of the Greeks and William Blake and perhaps
Paul Klee bouncing around in there.

Or, perhaps, I see them because I am
a little bourgeois myself. The thrill of poverty
wore off for me when I turned thirty or so,
and I must admit that I like a comfortable couch
and peaceful vacations and even that my job,
gives me a little respect from the neighbors.

I enjoy a warm meal and a little novel
and even television, but perhaps what Deo
missed was that there is art, great art,
in a comforting novel, and there is
as much genius in a chicken cooked
properly for you by someone who loves you
and only wants to hear your contented groan
as there is in any number of paintings by people
who avoided the comforts of the middle class
but gloried in their acknowledgments.

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Amedeo Modigliani, Portrait of Juan Gris, 1915

And what exactly is it that you mean to say
about Gris, Deo, his head cocked back effeminately,
his giant naive eyes looking through
large lashes at us. Are you painting fear or
jealously? Are you painting desire?

Or perhaps you are painting the intimidation
that comes from admiration, the feeling you have
—and I do too—when we meet people we love
so much and know that no matter what we do,
we will never see ourselves the way we see them.

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Amedeo Modigliani, Woman of Algiers, 1917

Deo avoided the bourgeois trap
of representationalism
as he always did in his later paintings,
capturing the essence
of the woman,
her strength and the courage
lying just on the other side of those eyes
—except for the skin on her neck.

That skin is multi-tonal, subtle, delicate
with the nearly translucent character
a woman’s complexion gains
when you fall in love with her.
And if her neck is perhaps too
representational, Deo can be forgiven, for he has
captured who she was, and who he was,
and who we all want to be.