Last night, Bettie Page passed away.

If you don’t know who Bettie was, then this means little to you. I’m not going to write a bio of her here. Her story, and her pictures, is readily available all over the web, and books about her abound. Plus, there’s that movie, “The Notorious Bettie Page.”

Artists loved Bettie, and still do. Even though I moved on from drawing from photographs to drawing live models, I still keep a copy of Bettie Page Confidential next to my art board.

I’ll admit, I never enjoyed the Klaw S&M pictures of Bettie all that much. I much preferred pictures of her frolicking around, making faces, and hamming it up for the camera. It sounds hackneyed and clichéd, but there was something really genuine and vivacious in her face.

When Bettie’s modeling career was over, she made a point to stay out of the spotlight, living quietly and avoiding being photographed. It was a brilliant move on her part, because it made those wonderful photographs from the 50’s timeless. Most people don’t know who any of her modeling peers were, but many remember Bettie.

Dave Stevens loved Bettie Page in a very real way, and his depictions of her in the Rocketeer spawned a renaissance of interest in her career. Dave Stevens is gone, too, and now Bettie can join him.

I know quite a few artists models. Almost without exception, the artist’s model is themselves an artist, giving careful thought to how they arrange themselves for the artists. Most of these working models are very friendly, open, generous people. Some have expressed what they do as “giving back” to the artistic community and some simply love it. The figure drawing community, at least here in Indianapolis, is rather close knit.

This generosity of spirit, this openness, was all evident in Bettie Page’s work. Her personal charisma and humor shone through the old photos.

Thank you, Bettie. I am just a fan, but you meant a lot to me.  Godspeed.

Scott.