Alanna Smith—The Modigliani Muse of the Minnesota Lynx

Modigliani’s “The Blonde with the Earrings,” c.1918/19, flanked by Alanna Smith of the WNBA’s Minnesota Lynx.

If Amedeo Modigliani were around today, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’d be sitting courtside at Target Center, sketchbook in hand, entirely transfixed by Alanna Smith of the Minnesota Lynx. He wouldn’t be there for the popcorn or the halftime show or even the basketball (though I suspect he'd enjoy the elegance of a no-look assist). No—he’d be there for the muse. And Alanna Smith, with her graceful height, striking features, and quiet intensity, would absolutely be it.

Modigliani had a type. Long necks. Elongated limbs. Faces like poetry—not realism, but rhythm. His portraits didn’t attempt to capture life as it looked, but rather, as it felt. And doesn’t Alanna play like that? A presence on the court that’s less about flash and more about form—a kind of angular grace that looks like geometry in motion. She glides, she stretches, she rises—and I’m convinced if Modigliani saw her block a shot or drive the lane, he’d shout something in Italian, clutch his heart, and demand a canvas the size of a billboard.

Of course, he wouldn’t paint her in uniform. No, no. He’d ask her to sit—stoic, maybe with a faint smirk—and he’d render her in oil, neck elegant, shoulders sloping like jazz, eyes dark and bottomless. Critics would call it “ModBall,” a new era of sports portraiture. Alanna, meanwhile, would remain coolly unimpressed, dropping 17 points and 9 rebounds while her likeness hung in the Louvre.

Because really, who else in today’s world bridges the space between athleticism and abstract art quite like Alanna Smith? She’s got the presence. She’s got the power. She’s got the posture of a painting and the footwork of a fever dream. And if you squint just right when she steps into a free throw? You can almost see it—a little smudge of charcoal, a stretch of canvas, and a long-lost Italian artist whispering, Sì, perfetta.