Our Lady of the Dishwashing

our lady of dishwashingIf it were not for the Venus de Milo, of course, I never would have bought this broken statuette at my local thrift store. The Venus de Milo, more properly called Aphrodite of Milos, is made of marble, missing both arms, (hardly) draped in a sheet, slightly larger than life-size, a couple thousand years old and currently residing in the Louvre.

My bare naked lady is made of glass, missing half an arm, standing on her toes and leaning on a piece of rock candy, nine inches tall, produced I’d guess in the last 20 years and is currently perched on the window sill above my sink. So you can see why I thought of the Venus de Milo when I first saw her on the store shelf (though now I refer to her as Our Lady of the Dishwashing.)

Seriously, girl statue missing arm or arm parts equals Venus de Milo, there’s no getting around it, and why would you want to?

If we are to believe the confusingly written Wikipedia entry on this subject, the VdM was in possession of both her arms until shortly after she was unearthed by a peasant in 1820 on the Agean island of Milos. A few things happened involving ambassadors, naval officers, the Grand Dragoman of the Fleet, and Sultan Mahmud II.

At some point during all the shenanigans a bunch of French sailors ended up in a tussle with a bunch of Greek bandits, and as the sailors dragged the statue over the rocks back to the ship, the arms broke off. Likely fearing further attack from the Greeks, they refused to go back for the missing appendages. My glass statuette, on the other hand, presumably took a header off a bookshelf or coffee table somewhere.

Though she seems too substantial to be called a knickknack or tchotchke, and being all nekked lends her a fine art cloak, she is in fact not much more than a Lladro without a dress, which in turn are just Hummels without the baby fat. Still, she almost makes washing the dishes less of a chore. If only she could lend a hand.

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