Early last year and early in my enchantment with Pontormo, I had a rather obscure book from the library -- enticing because it also referred to his pupil Giotto, who was said to be beloved by Matisse.
It turned out to have a great deal of general information about the making and preserving of Italian frescoes. And in that context, I came across this intriguing image of young girls' faces:
From the accompanying text, I learned that these were evident "St. Ivo's Schoolgirls" (as I came to call it).
St. Ivo? Hmmm....I thought. He must be one of those little known local saints that show up all over Europe. And then suddenly popped into my head: St. Ives! Remember the childhood rhyming riddle?
As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives,
Each wife had seven sacks,
Each sack had seven cats,
Each cat had seven kits:
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were there going to St. Ives?
I was just beginning the on-line course that focussed on the portrait, and these schoolgirls with their quirky faces enchanted me. And now: Cats!!! It was irresistible. Forget the sacks. Forget the head count. I decided I'd do a spin-off, packing as many kits or cats into their schoolgirl arms as I could.
Very briefly I thought ....maybe I should replace the schoolgirls with all the women I know who have beloved cats and put their own cats in their arms. Luckily, sanity prevailed, and I stuck with Plan A. Over the months, I would use up extra paint from my studio sessions and work on "St. Ivo's Schoolgirls".
I put the final outcome on the sidelines and forgot about it until I began a major studio reorganization a couple weeks ago. Here it is:
I know there's good cause to conclude from this blog that I've never really grown up. But the St. Ives riddle is serious business. The Wikipedia synopsis lists several historic versions of the riddle -- even a mathematical problem in an ancient Egyptian papyrus (c. 1650 BC) that has to do with numbers of houses, cats, mice, and bags of grain.
This link for serious math folks examines the possibilities that arise from the riddle's ambiguous wording -- yielding answers to "how many?" ranging from zero to 2801.
And finally, maybe you can help me with what I'd really like to know: What is the origin of the expression, "Riddle me no riddles"?