“Descending Night” by Adolph Alexander Weinman “Descending Night.” Pacific Gas and Electric Magazine, 1909. San Francisco Public Library Collection

“That which is the immodesty of other women has been my virtue — my willingness that the world should gaze upon my figure unadorned,” Audrey Munson, the favorite nude model of the Beaux Arts movement in the United States, once proclaimed. And that openness to posing in often freezing artist studios completely naked, in uncomfortable poses with swayed legs and hair held back with bended arms, such as for Adolph Alexander Weinman’s “Descending Night” (1914), or practically on tip toes for Alexander Stirling Calder’s “Star Maiden,” endlessly duplicated at the Panama-Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco, earned her incredible acclaim.

Cover of ‘The Curse of Beauty’ (courtesy Regan Arts)

Yet following those Gilded Age years as the “American Venus,” she had a failed silent film career (which was mainly based on her titillating full nudity, a first time for a Hollywood film), was caught in a murder scandal, attempted suicide by poison, and was ultimately committed to a mental institution until her death in 1996. It’s the kind of operatic rise and fall that’s irresistibly voyeuristic, the young beauty corrupted by fame, burning out as fantastically as a falling star (or “Star Maiden”). The Curse of Beauty by James Bone, out last month from Regan Arts, is a biography that methodically chronicles her life with thorough research by the former New York Bureau Chief for the Times of London. So not surprisingly, a recent article in Variety reported that Judith Regan, of publisher Regan Arts, “plans to shop the movie rights, and thinks Jennifer Lawrence should play the lead.”

I first read about Munson when writing on the representation of women in New York’s public statuary. While there are only five historic women among the city’s numerous monuments, other anonymous women are immortalized in bronze, granite, and marble as allegorical figures, goddesses, and angels. Munson is unrivaled in these portrayals, appearing in countless early 20th-century statues, from the seated figures that once guarded the Manhattan Bridge and are now installed outside the Brooklyn Museum, to the gilded lady on the top of the Manhattan Municipal Building, to a duo of marble sculptures by Daniel Chester French in the atrium of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Her neoclassical beauty, with her strong silhouette and raised brow, along with feminine curves, made her a favorite among the bohemian artist community of Greenwich Village’s MacDougal Alley, where she went door-to-door looking for work after being discovered on the streets by a photographer.

Daniel Chester French’s “Memory” (1886-87) and “Mourning Victory from the Melvin Memorial” (1906-08), both of which Munson is believed to have modeled for, on view at the Metropolitan Museum of Art
Alexander Stirling Calder designing a sculpture for the Panama-Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco (1913) (via Library of Congress)
Portrait of Audrey Munson by Arnold Genthe (1915) (via Library of Congress)

In The Curse of Beauty, Bone argues that part of what caused Munson to fade from memory, even when she was once a household name, was the rise of modernism. Bone doesn’t explore this, but many of the artists Munson posed for are also now obscure compared to their previous prominence, their figurative idealism falling out of fashion in the later decades of the 20th century. Frederick MacMonnies, whose fountain outside the New York Public Library was based on some of her posing, is now best known for his “Civic Virtue” statue exiled to Green-Wood Cemetery; Alexander Stirling Calder was surpassed in fame by his mobile-mastering son, Alexander Calder.

Bone describes Munson’s visit to the studio of avant-garde French-Cuban painter Francis Picabia, one of New York’s first modernist transplants from Europe, who asked Munson to walk around rather than hold a static pose. Munson derided the resulting painting as “an incongruous collection of color splotches.” Bone writes:

Modernism, and all its associated “isms” — cubism, fauvism, dadaism, futurism, expressionism, and surrealism — was breaking upon the unsuspecting world, Audrey’s world. Apart from her encounter with Picabia, her artists came from the generation immediately prior to modernism, the generation that would be cast aside and forgotten in the face of its transformative cultural force. Audrey didn’t work for isms.

Audrey Munson in the 1915 film ‘Inspiration’ (via Wikimedia)
Photograph of Audrey Munson by Arnold Genthe (1915) (via Library of Congress)

Much of the book is focused on recording as many facts as possible about Munson’s life (the author is, after all, coming from the world of journalism), and what The Curse of Beauty lacks is some deeper discussion into this art world where Munson fit perfectly, and then not at all. I would love to read more analysis of the sculptures in which she appeared, and how their portrayal of this rather modern woman, at least in terms of her appreciation of the naked body, merged with their adhesion to classical ideals.

Some coverage on The Curse of Beauty has stated that it’s the first biography on Munson, which isn’t entirely true; Diana Rozas published American Venus: The Extraordinary Life of Audrey Munson, Model and Muse in 1999, and in 2007 Andrea Geyer published the Queen of the Artists’ Studios artist book based on years of researching Munson’s modeling and writing. And although Munson is definitely overlooked in art history as a muse to some of the great works of Beaux Arts, the more lurid details of her life have popped up in sensational, weird history articles in recent years. (Even some coverage for the book can’t resist titles like “America’s First Supermodel Died Alone in a Mental Asylum” and “America’s First Supermodel Is Shunned by Our Cultural Elite” that might as well be headlining some old yellow journalism.)

What I haven’t seen in the dialogue on Munson’s life is a call for better appreciation of artist models, who remain important participants in art, sharing their individual faces and forms to be transformed into expressions of our collective humanity. Look up next time you go to the Frick Collection at the nude woman reclining above the door; that is Munson, and the fact it is a real person behind that stone character, that the work was formed through hours in the studio in a partnership between the artist and the model, makes the visual experience more meaningful. Regan Arts has an online map plotting statues for which Munson modeled, and the physical book’s dust jacket unfolds into a map of Manhattan, so you can witness in-person these tangible reminders of Munson, the city’s own fallen goddess.

Audrey Munson sculpted by Sherry Edmundson Fry on the pediment of the Frick Collection (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)
36_Audrey, photographed by Arnold Genthe. Library of Congress
Allegorical figures, for which Audrey Munson modeled. in granite by Daniel Chester French that once were installed at the Manhattan Bridge, now on view outside the Brooklyn Museum
Pages from ‘The Curse of Beauty’ (photo of the book for Hyperallergic)
Fold-out dust jacket of ‘The Curse of Beauty’ that has a map of statues in New York city for which Audrey Munson modeled (photo of the book for Hyperallergic)
17_vi_Audrey riding a tiger. Library of Congress.
Daniel Chester French, “Memory” (1886-87), for which Audrey Munson is said to have modeled, on view in the Metropolitan Museum of Art
A 1916 newspaper advertisement for the film ‘Purity’ starring Audrey Munson (via Library of Congress/Wikimedia)
Audrey Munson (June 7, 1922) (© Bettmann/CORBIS)
The Pulitzer Fountain in Manhattan’s Grand Army Plaza, with a sculpture started by Karl Bitter based on model Doris Doscher, then later completed by Karl Gruppe and Isidore Konti after Bitter’s death, with modeling by Audrey Munson (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)
“Beauty” sculpture by Frederick MacMonnies, partly based on Audrey Munson, on a fountain outside the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue
Allegorical figures, for which Audrey Munson modeled. in granite by Daniel Chester French that once were installed at the Manhattan Bridge, now on view outside the Brooklyn Museum

The Curse of Beauty by James Bone is out now from Regan Arts.

Allison C. Meier is a former staff writer for Hyperallergic. Originally from Oklahoma, she has been covering visual culture and overlooked history for print and online media since 2006. She moonlights...

8 replies on “The Life of One of the 20th Century’s Most Influential Nude Models”

    1. The story definitely doesn’t stop and end with this post. If there are any current projects with Munson, please send them our way, and thanks so much for sharing Andrea Geyer’s work. I will add the artist book to the previous publications that I mention.

        1. Lets celebrate her wisdom and vision rather then fetishize the scandal and tragedy. This woman was smart, engaged, politicized most of all… and also beautiful. My work focuses on her goal to deconstruct the artist genius by acknowledging the models. She also reflected on the politics of value within the Beaux Arts Movement. Munson was a survivor of a system in which women were reduced to their beauty and dismissed when used up. Thank you for recognizing the work I have done on her nearly 10 years ago with the help of Justin White and others, I hope the author of this new book gives credit to those of us who have paid attention and geared the public towards Muson’s accomplishments over many decades. Also please watch out for the map I published with Art in General (and Sofia Hernandez) in 2007. It is significantly more comprehensive that what is put forward here in the dust jacket.

  1. I told the Brooklyn Museum 25 years ago to honor Miss Munson. (Munson was still alive.) I told them about other models, such as Harlem’s Hettie Anderson (who posed for U.S. coins). The Brooklyn Museum’s Sackler Center honors feminists, but they weren’t even interested enough to write back to me. I guess even the NYC museum that honors women in art doesn’t give a damn about women who posed for art.

    By the way, I corresponded with Andrea Geyer about 10 years ago…I’ve been trying to get a Google Doodle honoring Miss Munson for her 125th birthday next month. Ask Google.

    1. Thanks so much for your comment. Maybe the recent attention will encourage institutions to take those important steps in remembering Munson and other artist models.

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