Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Guess the Artist

Your clues this week are purposefully vague:

• The artist was American.
• This work was created while the artist was undergoing psychoanalytic treatment.
• Though this is a work on paper, the artist is better known for a different medium.

And


• The artist probably isn't who you think it is, at least not at first glance.

Please email me your guesses over the coming week. I'll post the winner and correct answer with next week's guessing game. Good luck!

Last Week's Answer:

We were looking at Cleopatra's Feast (1653) by the life-long resident of Antwerp, Jacob Jordaens (1593-1678). You were all winners, sending so many correct answers so quickly. However, Julian emailed first, and I would also like to congratulate Clarice for including so many details in her answer. Everyone: take a bow!

Comments are closed for this post.

Guess the Artist

Your clues this week are:

• The artist was American, active in the 19th-century, and did not initially train to be a painter.
• Although best known today for pictures of water -- ocean shorelines, rivers, waterfalls, and lakes -- it was a monumental landscape that cemented the artist's reputation.
• The artist was a founding member and trustee of a museum whose original ground floor is now a Tommy Hilfiger store.

And


• The view here is part of what we call the Appalachian Trail, although neither the cows, the sheep, the dog, nor the boy are hiking its 2,184 miles. Why? The Appalachian Trail didn't exist yet. Not even as a euphemism for visiting one's mistress in Buenos Aires.

Please email me your guesses over the coming week. I'll post the winner and correct answer with next week's guessing game. Good luck!

Last Week's Answer:

One part of last week's clues seemed to throw readers off. Specifically, "The artist was an American, but wasn't born in the United States of America." Now, the artist was Charles Willson Peale (1741-1827) and the sitter was Henry Clay (1777-1852). The artist was born in Maryland, but you may note that his year of birth was 1741 ... when the Province of Maryland was still a British colony. Excellent detective work, Susan! You sent the first correct answer.

Comments are closed for this post.

Guess the Artist

Your clues this week are:

• The artist was American, active in the first third of the 20th-century, and had a knack for making friends with people who would later offer career advice, assistance, and patronage. The last part was purely accidental.
• Perhaps due to extended trips to Paris during 1906-07 (think: Fauvism, Expressionism, and Luminism) and 1912-14 (think: Cubism, Cubism, and Cubism), the artist was an early adopter of Modernism in the US.
• Never in robust health, the artist was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes when close to 40 years old. Though the metabolic disease would eventually win, the artist provided valuable scientific data for a decade by becoming one of the first people to undergo daily insulin injections.

And


• Apropos of nothing artistic, the eggplant seen here is your basic Purple Beauty. With which vegetable is flashy Miss Purple paired, my fellow gardening gastronomes? I'm looking for its varietal name.

Please email me your guesses over the coming week. I'll post the winner and correct answer with next week's guessing game. Good luck!

Last Week's Answer:

The clues last week pointed straight towards Aleksandr Deyneka (Russian, 1899-1969), a true "party" animal. We were looking at The Race (1932-33), which gives one the impressionism that the USSR was peopled with tall, muscular, blond men from whom tall, muscular women could choose worthy mates. Or something like that. Steve, who owns an iPad and may remember the Kursk explosion in the Barents Sea, was our timely winner. Поздравляю, Steve, and спасибо to all who participated!

Guess the Artist

Your clues this week are:

• The artist was born in Aragon, and became self-taught while recovering from tuberculosis as a teenager.
• Art and political activism often jockeyed for the most favorable post position in the artist's life. What started as opposition to the Franco regime grew into more global concerns with accompanying letters, essays, and manifestos. In fact, the artist was threatened with permanent expulsion from France at one point due to political statements.
• Most of the artist's personal papers (and a great deal of work) were destroyed in a suspicious house fire in 1979.

And


• The subject of this piece is an internationally famous French woman whose third husband, a millionaire playboy, champion bobsledder, documentary filmmaker and art collector, committed suicide last year. Incidentally, and in case you were wondering, this is not meant to be an accurate likeness.

Please email me your guesses over the coming week. I'll post the winner and correct answer with next week's guessing game. Good luck!

Last Week's Answer:

Quite a few of you knew that the clues pertained to George Herms and his appropriately beatnikky Greet the circus with a smile (1961). Llyn was first to email with the correct answer, however. Congratulations, Llyn!