In retrospect, I'm pretty sure the whole reason I majored in art history was because I saw art as a portal into other worlds. I loved looking at incredible images that evoked mood and told about the history of art and so on and so forth. But I always felt (and still do) that a … Continue reading The Last Tavern at the City Gates
A few days ago, I thought to myself, you know, our planet is on the brink of destruction. I should stop naval gazing and devote every last thing I write (not to mention every last thing I do in the real world) to the cause of our planet. Maybe it will do some good in … Continue reading Impotent Rage
M. Elizabeth Price, AKA Mary Elizabeth Price, was a prominent American painter in the early twentieth century. And yet I hadn't heard of her, nor do I remember ever seeing her work until I stumbled upon her Flower Border II (undated) quite by accident on the internet a few weeks ago. The work struck me … Continue reading M. Elizabeth Price
Among the culturally uncool things I love is the widely mocked 1994 movie Legends of the Fall. It gets a 57 percent on Rotten Tomatoes, which constitutes a "splat," with reviewers calling it melodramatic, silly, bloated, and a soap-opera romance. But 87 percent of the general audience (and a few film critics too) enjoyed it. … Continue reading Melodramatic, Silly, and Bloated, but Oh So Good
Let me start by saying that I adore museums. For me they are spiritual and meditative places. I don't mean that to sound corny. I'm not shivering with awe when I step into a museum; it's just that they help to take me outside of myself and my everyday problems. At the same time, they … Continue reading Sometimes you need to de-museum your art.
In my fourteen plus years of training as an art historian I somehow never learned about the wonderful Horace Pippin. And then last week I stumbled across one of his paintings online: "The Getaway, The Fox (The get-a-way)" from 1939. Pippin's biography is fascinating. He was born near Philadelphia and educated in segregated schools in … Continue reading Mr. Pippin
Many, many moons ago, my husband gave me a paper flower. Not one of those fancy tissue-paper flowers that you've fluffed up around a pipe cleaner "stem." This was a flat cut-out of a rose that he had drawn on sketch paper with a pencil. A lovely, simple, humble drawing. Cream and gray. Smudged with … Continue reading Tsvety. Fleurs. Fiori. Blumen.