Patience Meditation with a Degas Dancer

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Announcer: This is a Getty podcast.

[Rising, meditative music]

Lilit Sadoyan:  Today we’re exploring an extraordinary pastel drawing entitled Waiting, L’Attente, made around 1882 by French impressionist artist Edgar Degas.

[Theme music begins]

 Welcome to Our Museum Mindfulness Meditation podcast, or OMMM. Part art history and part meditation, we use works of art from the Getty collection as inspiration for mindfulness and deep reflection.

Hi, I’m Lilit Sadoyan. I’m a longtime meditation practitioner and museum educator at Getty. Thanks for joining me as we bring mindfulness out of the gallery and into our daily lives.

Today, we’re meditating on patience and impatience, inspired by a late-19th-century pastel drawing of two women, a ballet dancer and her companion, by one of the great pioneers of modern art, Edgar Degas. This episode begins with a breathing exercise to help relax your body and mind. We’ll then give a bit of history and context for this drawing, and we’ll close with a meditation on patience.

This series is also available as an audio podcast. If you’d like to step away from a screen for a few minutes, listen on your favorite podcast app. Now, if you’re ready, let’s jump in.

[Gong chimes and slow, meditative music begins]

Go ahead and find a comfortable meditation posture, whatever that means for you today. Maybe you’re sitting, lying down, something that allows you to feel relaxed yet alert. And let’s start by taking a few deep breaths together.

In through the nose. [inhales]

Out through the mouth. [exhales]

Deep breath in. [inhales]

Deep breath out. [exhales]

One more inhale.

And exhale.

 And now just let your breathing resume its natural rhythm as we turn our focus to the work of art for today.

[Bells chime]

When was the last time you were waiting for something? How did it feel? What were you doing with your body? Edgar Degas examines the physical manifestation of that feeling in his pastel drawing, Waiting, L’Attente, made around 1882.

Picture the scene in your mind: at left, a young ballet dancer folds forward to massage her out-turned left ankle with her left hand as she rests her right elbow on her right knee. To her left, an older companion, perhaps a guardian or a chaperone, similarly bends forward and rests both elbows on her thighs as she casts her gaze downward. They’re in a sparse, liminal space. Only the details of a bench, wooden floorboards, and the wall behind them are visible. The two women are closely seated side by side, leaving room for more bodies on the bench to the right. Yet they appear to be disconnected. They’re completely absorbed in their own thoughts and worlds. Even their clothing couldn’t be more starkly contrasted. The dancer’s dazzling blue and white costume, replete with an open back, her tutu, and giant bow, versus the somber, full-length black dress of the companion, including a hat, boots, and the umbrella she holds loosely between her fingers. Neither face is fully visible.

Rather than idealize the ballet dancer, Degas presents her as a working body who’s subject to fatigue and perhaps pain. Young dancers in this period faced challenges. Not only did they often come from economically disadvantaged backgrounds, but they also endured grueling rehearsal schedules that greatly exceeded the standards of today’s nine-to-five workweek. I wonder if Degas tried to emphasize this unglamorous life through his composition and perspective. He doesn’t elevate the performative aspects of ballet or the grandeur of the theater in this drawing. Instead, he situates the two figures in a bleak, work-like environment. The expansive, empty floor around them heightens the sense of being in an in-between space.

The perspective is equally crucial for setting this tone. The high viewpoint as we look down upon the two figures stresses the voyeuristic nature of spectatorship, particularly a male one from the artist’s positionality, into a private female world. It feels intrusive and reinforces the subject’s vulnerability.

Something about ballet dancers, their mastery of their bodies, but also their physicality seems to have fascinated Degas. He studied dancers again and again for years, and focused on the seated bent-over pose featured here in particular in a cluster of drawings. For these, he probably works from live models, drawing dancers employed at a theater, or more likely, in his studio.

This drawing is extraordinary for its craftsmanship. The ways in which Degas has applied the pastel, varying its texture for differing visual effects, along with his bold choice of color, make it a delight to examine up close. A streak of bright indigo along the dancer’s right shin, and more patches in her right hand and upper arm, are echoed in her companion’s left upturned palm and folds of her umbrella. Or the turquoise in the shadow cast behind the dancer’s left heel, and the comparable teal in the woman’s hat. The left edge of the dancer’s hidden face is outlined in a deep brick red, and some of that same color is applied to her elbow. Up close, these colors don’t make sense next to one another, but from a distance, they coalesce and fall into place.

Some passages, such as the woman’s black dress and the dancer’s bows, are thick and opaque, while others, like the back of the tutu and space around the bow, are barely sketched in. And the way Degas applied the pastel differs greatly, too. He blended the pastel with a rag or his fingers into the paper to soften the appearance of the tutu. He wetted some to create a creamier texture in the dancer’s bows and hair, and he even drew with dry pastel to create finer details, such as the linear shadows on the woman’s cheek or the lace around her cuffs. Degas would have used the color of the paper, which was originally pinkish and has now faded to tan, as a middle tone to fill in the color where the pastel is absent altogether. Some of these areas are controlled, and other areas, such as the light blue violet strokes across the floor, are freely and loosely sketched. Upon closer inspection, these details are like abstract paintings in and of themselves.

Edgar Degas created this drawing during a high point of his long career. His work had already been widely exhibited in Paris, first at the official salons, and later, after 1874, at the independent exhibitions of the impressionists. Although he was academically trained, by the 1860s, Degas turned his attention to modern subjects, especially Parisian life, such as operas and cafes. He also attempted to depict movement, as seen in his bathers and ballet dancers. Around 1880, he made a substantial number of works on paper for exhibition and sale, and focused this body of work on ballet in particular.

We don’t know the exact date when Degas made this drawing, nor how it obtained its title. We do know that it entered the collection of the great patron of impressionism, Louisine Havemeyer, a feminist and philanthropist, about 10 years after Degas made it. It stayed in the Havemeyer family’s collection for 90 years, until it was jointly purchased by the Getty and the Norton Simon Foundation.

The subject matter of this drawing is rather elusive. Are these two figures waiting for practice, an audition, or its outcome? It’s unclear. Yet waiting carries such striking emotional resonance because it elicits in the viewer an almost instinctive bodily response. The figures’ slumped postures, expressions of fatigue, and perhaps emotional withdrawal, are deeply familiar articulations of the human condition. These are recognizable corporeal experiences, particularly because we can identify with the physical sensations of waiting that these figures embody, and perhaps the impatience that comes with it, too. In Degas’ Waiting, patience, or maybe impatience, becomes visible through the body.

Take a moment now to notice your posture wherever you are. See if you can position yourself a little taller, a little straighter, a little lighter as we transition into our meditation for today.

[Meditative music begins]

Take a moment now to set yourself up for restfulness. Find ease in your body and establish a sense of comfort, whatever you need today. If you feel comfortable, I invite you to close your eyes. Use this time to go inward.

Let’s begin by taking a few deep breaths together.

In through the nose. [inhales]

Out through the mouth. [exhales]

Deep breath in. [inhales]

Deep breath out. [exhales]

Deep inhale.

Deep exhale.

Just let your breathing resume its natural rhythm. There’s no need to force or extend the in-breath and out-breath. Just let your body do what it does very naturally.

Maybe a silent thank you to your body for keeping you going.

And start to get curious about your breath. Notice the sensation of air moving in and out of your body.

Notice the subtle rise and fall of your chest.

Notice your ribs expand and collapse.

As your breath swells and subsides.

And as you sit here and focus on your breath, the mind may wander. That’s okay. Your brain is doing its job. So if you notice that you are thinking, you can label it as a thought or “I’m thinking”. Let it float away and gently bring your attention back to your breath.

Use your breath as your anchor to the present moment.

[Silence]

Notice any physical sensations that may also be present.

[Silence]

You can scan your body and release any unnecessary clenching or tightness.

Just relax. Soften.

[Silence]

And now call to mind a time when you felt impatient. It can be from long ago It may even be right now.

[Slow music resumes]

Notice how that feeling feels in your body.

How does impatience manifest itself in your body?

[Silence]

Maybe there’s agitated movement or fidgeting, like tapping your foot. Maybe your shoulders are raised. Maybe your breathing is shallow and rapid.

Sometimes impatience motivates us, but mostly it fills us with unnecessary stress, agitation, and brash decisions. When we are impatient, we aren’t at peace with what is. We are rushing for things to be different.

What are you trying to change? Can you accept the emotions that come with impatience? Can you simply wait. Practicing this meditation is an opportunity to slow down. To be patient.

What if there was nothing to change, to escape, or to resolve? Patience is not passive. Patience is a part of the composition of our lives. Patience is understanding and accepting that things must unfold in their own time.

Trust the process. See if you can relax into the natural timing of life. Find the fulfillment in simply being present, the absolute richness of being in this moment. No matter what has come before this moment or what is to follow, know that in this exact moment there’s nowhere else to be, nothing else to do, but to be here now.

And if your eyes are closed, I invite you to gently open them, stretch, come back to your environment. As we return to the world, let’s carry this sense of patience and acceptance with us. And I would like for us to see if we can find opportunities to practice being with what is without needing to change it.

So the next time you’re in line at the store, or sitting in traffic, or waiting to hear back from someone, remember that you can pause, even briefly, and be present. Feel into the richness of your experience wherever you are. Take these opportunities as reminders to be in the present moment and notice how they make you feel.

Let’s return to our breath and close our practice by taking a full deep breath together.

Inhale.

Sigh it out. [strong exhale]

Thank you so much for joining me.

[Meditative music slowly fades out]