John Singer Sargent, who was born on this day in 1856, is best known as the leading portrait artist of his generation. Raised by American expats, Sargent’s family moved around Europe until they settled in Paris. Throughout his career, he traveled the world immortalizing his adventures. Sargent produced almost 900 oil paintings and over 2,000 watercolors.
See this painting by Sargent on view in our New European Galleries.
"In the Luxembourg Gardens," 1879, by John Singer Sargent
In Pictures: European capitals hit by anti-COVID curbs protests
In Pictures: European capitals hit by anti-COVID curbs protests
Read full article: https://expatimes.com/?p=17486&feed_id=31297
John Edmond’s photograph Female Nude recalls European Renaissance and Baroque representations of Venus and other idealized female figures, as well as modernist takes on this tradition. The inclusion of the outward-facing studio light in the left corner evokes a source of divine energy, echoed by the Adinkra symbol Gye Nyame, meaning “except for God,” repeated on the fabric below the model.
The light and the sliver of the artist’s studio behind it also call attention to the process of picture-making as an important act of agency. Often photographing friends or acquaintances, Edmonds invites his models to don their own clothing and accessories, such as the headpiece and maternity beads that his model Becky chose to wear.
Discover this work and more in the exhibition John Edmonds: A Sidelong Glance on view through September 26, 2021.
John Edmonds (American, born 1989). Female Nude, 2019. Archival pigment photograph. Courtesy of the Artist and Company Gallery, New York
sebastian stan plays an art history expert working as a curator at the galleria borghese in rome. he starts every day with a coffee at a small hideaway coffeehouse with big bay windows, perfect for people watching, and gorgeous art adorning the walls.
timothée chalamet plays the barista that serves him every morning, and is also the son of the coffeehouse owner. he is also the artist responsible for the art in the shop.
jessica mcnamee plays lifelong friend to sebastian, and is now the wealthy director of the museum and also a private gallery owner. when sebastian discovers timothée is the genius behind the art, he enlists the help of jessica to get timothée’s work seen by more than just the coffeehouse.
as we follow his path to success, we learn through memories of the arts creation, exactly how he ended up on this path.
it’s directed by xavier dolan.
American Artists You Should Know
Keith Haring, American Flag, 1988
Since the mid 20th century, the United States has been the leader in the art market. The awarding of the Golden Lion to the American Rauschenberg at the 1964 Venice Biennale testifies to the shift in primacy from the School of Paris to the New York School. Today, in addition to its museums with the most prestigious collections, the “Big Apple” is the city with the most galleries. In fact, more than 100,000 artists have set up their studios there, taking advantage of the opportunity to try their luck with more than 1,500 galleries. American artists of the 20th century were the catalysts of modern and contemporary art. Artsper now presents 10 of the most famous of them!
Edward Hopper (1882-1967): Between Realism and Symbolism of the American Way of Life
Edward Hopper, Nighthawks, 1942
He was the painter of urban America at the beginning of the 20th century. Giving his depictions of everyday life a mystical atmosphere, Edward Hopper managed to sublimate the most innocuous subjects.
Born in New York, he trained as an illustrator before studying in a school of painting. He traveled several times to Europe in the early 1900s. There, he was more interested in the Impressionists, such as Monet and Degas, then in the Cubist avant-gardists of his time. Instead of abstract representations, Hopper preferred naturalistic representations of contemporary landscapes and customs. Upon his return to the United States, the artist began a career as a commercial artist before finally deciding to devote himself entirely to painting.
It was during the inter-war period that he acquired a certain prestige. Passionate about architecture, he first produced watercolors of 19th-century attic houses, which were much appreciated by collectors. In the manner of the impressionists, his subjects involve buildings painted at different times of the day. He favored sunrises and sunsets, revealing his attraction for depicting variations in luminosity.
He later portrayed the changing American society and is now considered one of the main representatives of American realism. A certain melancholy always emanates from his scenes. In his work Nighthawks, it is embodied by the solitude of the characters, isolated and silent. It is also a sign of nostalgia for a bygone America, which is becoming as urbanized as it is individualized…
As a precious witness of his time, he manages to immortalize suspended time on his canvas. The theatricality of his compositions, obtained by a powerful contrast between shadows and raw light, will be a source of inspiration for the photographic and cinematographic world.
Man Ray (1890-1976): From Dadaism to Surrealism
Man Ray, Champs délicieux,10ème rayographie, 1922
Painter, draftsman, director, designer… This artist, whose works are available on Artsper, was best known as the photographer of the Surrealists.
After studying industrial design, he refused to enter a school of architecture to devote himself fully to art. Settling in New York in the early 1910s, he frequented Alfred Stieglitz’s “291” gallery. Stieglitz introduced him to the technique of photography and many artists of the European avant-garde. In 1913, he took part in the Armory Show. This was the first international exhibition of modern art, bringing together representatives of Fauvism, Cubism, and Futurism. After a first solo exhibition in 1915, he joined the Dada movement. Born as a reaction to the absurdity of the First World War, this intellectual, literary, and artistic movement was characterized by a radical rejection of society’s political, social, and ideological values. It was during this period that he began experimenting with photography.
In 1921 he left America for Paris where he continued his research and discovered by chance a new photographic technique: “rayography”. By exposing a sheet of white light-sensitive paper to light, the parts not covered by objects become blackened. He then obtains representations with spectral forms, constituting dreamlike and mysterious landscapes in which everyday objects are transcended. At the same time, he became involved in the surrealist movement, in which he participated in all exhibitions from 1925 onwards. In 1929, he met Lee Miller, who became his mistress and assistant. Together, they exploited the aesthetic potential of solarization, a photographic process consisting of exposing a photograph too early. In this way, the zones of darkness and brightness are reversed.
Among the most important American artists in the history of art, he is the one who has revolutionized the art of photography!
Norman Rockwell (1894-1978): The Hyperrealism of the America’s Storyteller
Norman Rockwell, Freedom from Want, 1942
Known for his magazine illustrations, Norman Rockwell‘s works trace the history of the United States from the interwar period to the postwar period.
Fascinated by drawing since his childhood, he entered the American Academy of Design in New York at the age of 16. Then, in a second time, he joined the Art Students League, a prestigious school of Fine Arts. Talented, even before reaching the age of majority, youth magazines commissioned his first illustrations.
The year 1922 marked a turning point in his career. He painted his first cover for the famous newspaper The Saturday Evening Post. This was followed by a 47-year collaboration during which Rockwell produced 321 more covers. In a realistic, photo-like style, he portrayed the daily life of the American middle class, always with kindness and sometimes humor. It is in this way that he is linked to the American regionalism movement.
During the Second World War, his illustrations affirm his participation in the war effort. Inspired by President Roosevelt’s speech, in 1943 he produced a series of four paintings entitled The Four Freedoms. Franklin Roosevelt’s speech was intended to boost American morale by announcing a better future. This would be based on human rights and four freedoms: freedom of speech, freedom of worship, and freedom from fear and want. The painter then chose to transcribe these four concepts into scenes of daily life. He wants to show Americans that they are not just abstract ideals.
In the following years, as the success of these four images made him very popular, his commissions declined. Indeed, newspapers began to prefer photography to press cartoons. Nevertheless, until the end of his life, he will seek to use his art to defend the causes that are close to his heart: civil rights, the fight against segregation, poverty, and war. He was one of the American artists of his time to be the most politically involved.
Jackson Pollock (1912-1956): Dripping Pioneer
Jackson Pollock, Painting (Silver on black, white, yellow and red), 1948
An American painter of Abstract Expressionism, particularly famous for his practice of action painting, Jackson Pollock was a major influence on contemporary American painters. His death in full world consecration has fostered the legend of this cursed artist.
Spending his childhood in a precarious environment, between the absence of his father and the authority of his mother, he became an alcoholic at a very young age. At the age of 11, his visit to an Indian reserve and the discovery of abstract motifs of a so-called “primitive” art will leave a deep impression on him. For Pollock, art is, above all, a work of art. It allows him to express his emotions and to free himself from his anxieties, resentments, and anger. In his action paintings, close to performances, it is the action of painting and not the painting that is important.
Living a large part of his life in destitution during the Great Depression, he benefits from the Federal Art Project. Set up by the Roosevelt government as part of the New Deal policy, this program supported American artists through major public commissions. He joined the “Mural Painting” section in 1935 but was excluded in 1938 for absenteeism. At this time, he began a detoxification program.
In 1943, he took part in the first major exhibition organized by a famous American modern art collector, Peggy Guggenheim. Among the jury members, Piet Mondrian and Marcel Duchamp gave him a favorable opinion, so much so that the famous patron of the arts offered him a monthly salary and dedicated a personal exhibition to him. While he gradually made a name for himself in the art world, in 1947 he began to practice dribbling. It consists of pouring buckets of paint directly onto the canvas. Through this new technique of working horizontally, he breaks with the traditional codes of pictorial practice, while abandoning himself to the most total abstract art.
At the height of his success, however, his old demons still haunted him. Drowning in alcohol, he died in a car accident, driving while intoxicated. You can find some of his editions on the Artsper website.
The Major American Pop Culture Artists
Andy Warhol (1928-1987): The Father of Pop Art
Andy Warhol,Untitled from Marilyn Monroe, 1967
He turned art into a consumer product while at the same time he gave to everyday objects the status of works of art. Andy Warhol is rightfully considered one of the founders of Pop Art.
Warhol, whose creations are available on Artsper, comes from the poor working-class background of Pittsburgh and is the son of Slovak migrants. He managed to get into university to study Fine Arts. After graduation, he moved to New York in 1949. There he began a career as a commercial artist for fashion magazines and quickly gained a significant reputation in the advertising world.
At the end of the 1950s, he devoted himself to painting. He was first inspired by comic book graphics. But it was his paintings on consumer objects, starting with Campbell’s Soup cans, that would go down in art history. In order to meet an almost mass demand, he began using silkscreen printing in 1962. This stencil-based printing technique enabled him to produce his works in industrial quantities in a multitude of striking colors. His portraits of celebrities, such as Marilyn Monroe, are today present on the picture rails of the world’s greatest modern art institutions.
Later, in 1964, he opened his Factory, the Mecca of New York’s artistic life. It is both a production workshop and a recording studio for his experimental films.
Celebrated during his lifetime and recognized as an icon of Pop Art, he became at the end of his life a patron of the arts in the late 1980s. Collaborating with emerging artists such as Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring, he made his name a brand.
Keith Haring (1958-1990): Activism Through Street Art
Keith Haring, Necker Hospital, 1987
Known worldwide for his frescoes of colorful figures with thick black outlines, Keith Haring is also known as one of the American artists committed to the fight against homophobia and AIDS.
Like Andy Warhol, he was born in Pittsburgh and began studying advertising graphics. However, wishing to experiment freely with his own artistic research, he left for New York. There, graffiti inspired him. Eager to take art out of its frame to reach a wide audience, he began by drawing with chalk on the black advertising blackboards of the subway. At the same time, frequenting the artistic milieu of the New York underground, he had his first exhibitions in galleries. Finally, he was invited to the 1985 Biennale de Paris, while he was in the midst of his international rise.
Behind the appearance of children’s drawings, with synthetic forms, some of which can be found on the Artsper website, he deals with serious themes such as racism, violence, drugs, and environmental destruction… By expressing himself in the street, he seeks to have more visibility to denounce social prejudices. To this end, he participates in art education programs for young people and responds to several public commissions. For instance, he executed a fresco on one of the walls of the Necker Hospital in 1987.
Knowing that he was suffering from AIDS in 1988, he put his art and his notoriety at the service of the LGBT cause and the fight against this disease. To this end, he created the Keith Haring Foundation in 1989. Driven by a desire to transform the world, he died at only 31 years of age. Despite his short life, his legacy, both artistic and social, was no less considerable.
Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960-1988): The Elevation of Urban Art to the Rank of Fine Arts
Jean-Michel Basquiat, Slave Auction, 1982
He is one of the most famous African-American artists in the world. In 2017, almost 30 years after his death, one of his works was sold at auction for a record price of more than 110 million euros. This makes Jean-Michel Basquiat, some of whose drawings can be seen on the Artsper website, one of the most expensive American artists in the world.
Born in Brooklyn to a Haitian father and a Hispanic mother, this precocious drawing genius produced his first graffiti at the age of 16. He starts to sign under the pseudonym SAMO (“Same Old Shit”, literally “Same Old Shit”). Basquiat sets the tone: of a protestant temperament, he refuses to conform to the dictates of society.
Ambitious to become the first internationally known black artist, he managed to be spotted by his idol, Andy Warhol. The latter introduced him to the greatest New York gallery owners.
His works, of great singularity, frighten as much as they fascinate. Indeed, they are of great violence. With numerous evocations of death, his compositions are characterized by the introduction of tribal elements from his cultural heritage. His quest for identity pushes him to denounce the oppression of minorities, representing a chaotic world, carrying a powerful symbolism. Finally, as a child of Pop culture, he mixes different techniques in the same composition: graffiti, painting, collages. He disregards pictorial traditions and blurs the boundaries of the fine arts.
His death following an overdose put an end to his career at the age of 28. A career, admittedly short, but particularly prolific: he produced more than 800 paintings and 1,500 drawings. His chronic malaise, perceptible in the aggressive features of his compositions, paradoxically precipitated his end as much as his success.
The Tudors in Love: The Courtly Code Behind the Last Medieval Dynasty, Sarah Gristwood (23 September 2021)
The dramas of courtly love have captivated centuries of readers and dreamers. Yet too often they’re dismissed as something existing only in books and song – those old legends of King Arthur and chivalric fantasy.
Not so. In this ground-breaking history, Sarah Gristwood reveals the way courtly love made and marred the Tudor dynasty. From Henry VIII declaring himself as the ‘loyal and most assured servant’ of Anne Boleyn to the poems lavished on Elizabeth I by her suitors, the Tudors re-enacted the roles of the devoted lovers and capricious mistresses first laid out in the romances of medieval literature. The Tudors in Love dissects the codes of love, desire and power, unveiling romantic obsessions that have shaped the history of this nation.
Woodsmoke and Sage: The Five Senses 1485-1603: How the Tudors Experienced the World, Amy Licence (31 August 2021)
Using the five senses, historian Amy Licence presents a new perspective on the material culture of the past, exploring the Tudors’ relationship with the fabric of their existence, from the clothes on their backs, the roofs over their heads and the food on their tables, to the wider questions of how they interpreted and presented themselves, and what they believed about life, death and beyond. Take a journey back 500 years and experience the sixteenth century the way it was lived, through sight, sound, smell, taste and touch.
Usurpers, A New Look at Medieval Kings, Michele Morrical (30 September 2021)
In the Middle Ages, England had to contend with a string of usurpers who disrupted the British monarchy and ultimately changed the course of European history by deposing England\x27s reigning kings and seizing power for themselves. Some of the most infamous usurper kings to come out of medieval England include William the Conqueror, Stephen of Blois, Henry Bolingbroke, Edward IV, Richard III, and Henry Tudor. Did these kings really deserve the title of usurper or were they unfairly vilified by royal propaganda and biased chroniclers? In this book we examine the lives of these six medieval kings, the circumstances which brought each of them to power, and whether or not they deserve the title of usurper
The Boleyns of Hever Castle, Owen Emmerson and Claire Ridgway (1 August 2021)
In The Boleyns of Hever Castle, historians Owen Emmerson and Claire Ridgway invite you into the home of this notorious family.
Travel back in time to those 77 years of Boleyn ownership. Tour each room just as it was when Anne Boleyn retreated from court to escape the advances of Henry VIII or when she fought off the dreaded 'sweat'. See the 16th century Hever Castle come to life with room reconstructions and read the story of the Boleyns, who, in just five generations, rose from petty crime to a castle, from Hever to the throne of England.
Fêting the Queen: Civic Entertainments and the Elizabethan Progress, John Mark Adrian (30 December 2021)
While previous scholars have studied Elizabeth I and her visits to the homes of influential courtiers, Fêting the Queen places a new emphasis on the civic communities that hosted the monarch and their efforts to secure much needed support. Case studies of the university and cathedral cities of Oxford, Canterbury, Sandwich, Bristol, Worcester, and Norwich focus on the concepts of hospitality and space―including the intimate details of the built environment.
Hidden Heritage: Rediscovering Britain’s Lost Love of the Orient, Fatima Manji (12 August 2021)
Throughout Britain's galleries and museums, civic buildings and stately homes, relics can be found that beg these questions and more. They point to a more complex national history than is commonly remembered. These objects, lost, concealed or simply overlooked, expose the diversity of pre-twentieth-century Britain and the misconceptions around modern immigration narratives.
Hidden Heritage powerfully recontextualises the relationship between Britain and the people and societies of the Orient. In her journey across Britain exploring cultural landmarks, Fatima Manji searches for a richer and more honest story of a nation struggling with identity and the legacy of empire.
The Dissolution of the Monasteries: A New History, James Clark (14 September 2021)
Drawing on the records of national and regional archives as well as archaeological remains, James Clark explores the little-known lives of the last men and women who lived in England’s monasteries before the Reformation. Clark challenges received wisdom, showing that buildings were not immediately demolished and Henry VIII’s subjects were so attached to the religious houses that they kept fixtures and fittings as souvenirs. This rich, vivid history brings back into focus the prominent place of abbeys, priories, and friaries in the lives of the English people.
Catherine of Aragon: Infanta of Spain, Queen of England, Theresa Earenfight (15 December 2021)
Despite her status as a Spanish infanta, Princess of Wales, and Queen of England, few of her personal letters have survived, and she is obscured in the contemporary royal histories. In this evocative biography, Theresa Earenfight presents an intimate and engaging portrait of Catherine told through the objects that she left behind.
Devil-Land: England Under Siege, 1588-1688, Clare Jackson (30 September 2021)
As an unmarried heretic with no heir, Elizabeth I was regarded with horror by Catholic Europe, while her Stuart successors, James I and Charles I, were seen as impecunious and incompetent, unable to manage their three kingdoms of England, Scotland and Ireland. The traumatic civil wars, regicide and a republican Commonwealth were followed by the floundering, foreign-leaning rule of Charles II and his brother, James II, before William of Orange invaded England with a Dutch army and a new order was imposed.
A Christmas Prince
Summary: When reporter Feyre Archeron is sent to the small European Principality of Aldovia to cover the upcoming coronation of Prince Rhysand, she's mistaken for a royal portraitist. Deciding to lean into the lie in order to get a better story, Feyre is caught up in the drama and politics of Rhysand's life with no way out that doesn't betray them both.
This is based loosely off the Netflix movie A Christmas Prince and was my first full length Feysand fic so be kind.
This was also my Secret Santa gift for @arrowmusings and I hope they enjoy it.
You can find it on AO3: Here
Rated T for some language
There was something special about Christmas in New York. Feyre chose to see it through rose tinted glasses, determined New York wouldn’t break her. She chose to see fresh, white snow instead of the gray sludge that lined the streets, chose to believe people smiled as she walked, chose to believe the air smelled like pine and snow capped mountain peaks instead of trash and exhaust. Some days were easier than others and as Feyre trudged through the slick mess, her boots sliding over the pavement, she found she was struggling to believe reality was as lovely as her imagination.
She made it to her office just in time for no one but Lucien Vanserra to smile in her direction. In a city filled with millions of people, how was he her only friend? Not counting, of course, her older sister Elain but Elain was busy with her trendy cupcakes that had taken over Brooklyn and besides, sisters didn’t really count as friends.
“I got you coffee,” Lucien told her with a smile, sliding out of his office to hand her a still warm cardboard cup of what smelled suspiciously like a chestnut praline latte. She’d gotten him in her breakup with her long-time boyfriend Tamlin and Feyre was grateful for it. Despite two solid decades of friendship, the first time Feyre texted Lucien for help, sporting a black eye and split lip, Lucien had shown up with movers and, when Tamlin tried to beg for her back, his fists.
“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. He knew her too well.
“So my dad is bugging me to come home this year,” he continued, a grimace stretched over his tanned, handsome face. Feyre scowled.
“Did you tell him no?” She replied. Lucien’s dad had money, money money, and Lucien had been expected to fall in line and become some corporate drone. Instead Lucien worked as a copy editor, mainly to say he had a job. Feyre was well aware Lucien had an obscene inheritance that, despite his father’s anger, he had access to.
“Not exactly,” Lucien replied with a sigh, stopping in front of her desk in the little cubicle Feyre inhabited. He shook her little snow globe with a wistful expression, watching the snow settle over Cinderella’s castle. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to be on Christmas.”
“Want plans?” Feyre offered immediately. Her and Lucien had been a two person show for Halloween and Thanksgiving. Why not Christmas, too? “You might have to spend it with Elain. She’s not flying out to California to see Nesta this year.”
Lucien’s expression lightened a little even as he said, “I don’t want to intrude on your family time with your sister.”
She snorted. “It’s hardly intruding. Elain lives to cook, besides. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to have one more mouth to feed.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not,” Lucien complained, tucking a stray piece of copper hair behind his ear. Only Lucien could get away with shoulder length hair, tied neatly in a ponytail, in an office that required men to wear buttoned up shirts and ties. “Speaking of siblings, you know my older brother Eris knows this guy who owns a gallery—”
“No,” she said quickly, refusing to get her hopes up. “No, Lucien, no favors.”
“Feyre, c’mon. What’s the point of this fancy last name if I never get to throw it around?” He teased, sitting on the edge of her desk.
“You hate when people think you’re a Vanserra,” Feyre reminded him patiently, turning to her computer monitor. “Besides, my art isn’t good enough—”
“Your art is good enough for museums,” Lucien interrupted impatiently. “And I’m not just saying that because we’re friends,” he added, catching how her mouth opened to contradict him. “Trust me. I’ve seen some of the ugly shit people spend thousands of dollars on. Your work deserves to be seen.”
She couldn’t admit that since Tamlin, Feyre hadn’t painted at all. He’d ridiculed everything she’d ever put on canvas, had made her feel small and worthless. He’d torn it all apart, had sneered at her brushstrokes, had called it her hobby and Feyre couldn’t get his words out of her head even six months later. From the way Lucien looked at her, fiddling with the cuffs on his dark purple shirt, she suspected he knew why she didn’t want to paint.
“I don’t have time,” she said instead, gesturing towards her email inbox. Lucien only rolled russet-colored eyes, one of which had three angry red scars streaked through it, marring what was otherwise a truly perfect face. He’d been in a car accident as a boy, he’d said. He ought to have died and instead was just scarred and though Feyre had found it jarring the first time she ever saw it, Lucien swore it had never gotten in the way when it came to women.
She wouldn’t know anything about that, other than Lucien always seemed to find a beautiful woman when he needed one.
“Sure you don’t,” he said with a long suffering sigh. “Too busy re-writing articles and watching Netflix shows you’ve already seen?”
“Don’t you have a job?” She asked, annoyed. Lucien grinned and all was forgiven in that moment because, despite his irritating presence, he was still her best friend.
“Reading books and telling authors their plots don’t make sense is hardly a job, Fey. It’s my passion.”
“You know, they say those who can’t—”
“Teach,” he interrupted. “But I accept the insult all the same. Don’t let the journalists dick you around too much, hm?”
And with that, Lucien was gone. He sauntered back to his nice office with the glass window overlooking the city while Feyre watched, rolling her eyes at the way heads turned as he went. She knew he was aware of it, and while Lucien would never sleep with anyone in their office, she was certain he didn’t need to wear pants half as tight, either.
Feyre was a junior editor, a job she didn’t particularly love but had sort of fallen into by accident. There was upward mobility and she’d always been a good enough writer that she decided to aim for being an editor one day, which was the plot of every coming-of-age tale she’d ever watched growing up in Oklahoma.
It was well past noon when Feyre finally finished reading a too-long story about fashion week, frustrated that the journalist had just made up facts that would get their magazine in hot water if it ever ran. Feyre knew she’d need to completely re-write it, both to trim down the wordiness and to ensure that they actually discussed the actual designers who were featured in the show. She knew exactly who to ask for help, dialing quickly on her phone.
“What’s up?” Came Elain’s voice over whirring in the background. Feyre knew her sister well enough to know it was just the sound of a stand mixer and that Elain was likely covered in a fine layer of flour.
“Hey, did you watch fashion week?” She asked.
“Fashion week is my Super Bowl…or whatever it is where they pick players,” Elain said impatiently. “I bought a dress from—”
“That’s great. Do you think you could help me with an article I’m writing?”
The whirring in the background stopped. “Do you want to stop by for lunch or is that too far?”
Considering Feyre was in Manhattan and Elain in Brooklyn, it was definitely too far for a quick lunch. “Dinner?”
“Come to my place, then. I’m closing up at two today.”
“Oh wait, Elain! Can I bring my friend Lucien? We usually get dinner together.”
There was a pause. “Tamlin’s friend?”
Feyre bit back her sigh. “My friend,” she said firmly.
“Fine. But I’m not cleaning.”
“I didn’t ask you to and trust me when I say he won’t care. Thanks for this, Elain.”
Elain offered a mock long-suffering sigh. “I have a dress for you, too, you know—”
“I’m hanging up now byeeeee,” Feyre said quickly, disconnecting the call before Elain could try and set her up with one of the million beautiful men that seemed to follow her sister around. Elain was all the things a person moving to New York ought to be—she had a degree in fashion, had been president of her sorority, had a close-knit group of girlfriends and, though it shouldn’t have mattered, Feyre knew from experience that if Elain stepped off a curb and raised her hand for a cab, six lined up immediately. She’d always been beautiful, even when they were dirt poor in Oklahoma, and no one ever doubted she’d make something of herself. Of course, most of their town had hoped she’d make herself into a housewife for one of their lazy sons, but that was still better than the world’s expectations for her. No one had ever thought Feyre would amount to anything and when she went home to see her father, the people who stopped her acted surprised she’d done anything at all with her life.
Feyre was practically out the door when the editor stopped her. “Archeron. You got a second?”
Feyre looked over her shoulder at Lucien, leaned against his office door to talk to some aspiring writing working in one of the cubicles. She was flushed while Lucien was clearly offering serious career advice. He never learned, she thought with amusement. They didn’t give a fuck about his career, only his pretty face and that powerful last name.
“What’s up?” Feyre asked, walking into the glass office to take a seat.
“What do you know about Aldovia?” Her editor, a chic woman named Amren with a dark bob and a beautiful set of ruby earrings, asked as she flipped through a stack of papers.
“Nothing?” Ferye replied, trying to recall where in the world Aldovia was at all. Europe, maybe?
Amren glanced up at her. “Aldovia’s King died last year, and the mourning period is about to expire. Their prince, Rhysand, is MIA and they need a butt on the throne by Christmas Day.”
Feyre just stared. Amren sighed. “If he’s MIA, who do you think will fill that role?”
Feyre just shrugged. She knew absolutely nothing about world politics. Amren sighed. “I need boots on the ground to cover this debacle. Our readers love anything to do with the playboy prince.”
“Why me?” Feyre asked, shooting herself in the foot.
“You’re young, you’re hungry, you’re smart…and none of my regular journalists can go. You’d be gone over Christmas.”
“Oh…I don’t know…” Feyre began but Amren waived her hand.
“I can give this to any other junior editor,” Amren snapped, eyes blazing. “Do you want to spend the rest of your career in that cubicle re-writing shit articles? Or do you want to write something of your own?”
Neither, she thought quietly, surprised Amren knew she was rewriting articles.
“Okay,” Feyre agreed, in part to keep Amren from offering it to anyone else.
“Great. I know you won’t let me down.”
But Feyre wasn’t so sure when she scurried out of the office half an hour later, her phone buzzing in her pocket with an email alert for plane tickets. Lucien was waiting, jacket slung over his shoulder and her coat draped over his arm.
“Fired?” He joked, handing her the dark, puffy coat that she aggressively wore despite his accusations it made her look like a marshmallow.
“What do you know about the Prince of Aldovia?” She asked him, sliding into the elevator beside him.
Lucien peered down at her with surprise. “That he’s got a reputation as a womanizer and a dick,” Lucien offered. “And he’s likely going to abdicate and fuck up a dynasty that’s almost as old as the British monarchy.”
“And that’s bad?” Feyre asked.
“Well, it’s not great,” Lucien replied dryly. “They don’t have another system just ready to go.”
“You know Lucien, you don’t have to be a dick about everything,” she mumbled. Lucien grinned, bumping his shoulder into hers.
“Aw c’mon. Why all the interest in Aldovia?”
“Amren wants me to go and cover the coronation…or abdication, I guess.”
Lucien’s whole face lit up as he held open the glass doors that led to the street. It was already dark despite only being five thirty. Lucien stepped off the curb to flag down a cab while Feyre jammed her hands in her coat pockets.
“Let me give you a crash course over dinner.”
Feyre groaned. “Speaking of that. I might have agreed to eat at my sisters tonight.”
He shrugged. “No worries. Tomorrow then—”
“Come with me,” she asked, turning to face him. “I kind of already told her you were coming.”
He flicked her in the cheek.
“Besides, I’ll bet Elain knows everything about a prince. This seems right up her alley.”
Lucien held open the door to a bright yellow cab. “Fine. But you remember what happened the last time I dined with one of your sisters.”
Feyre scowled before rattling off her sister’s address. “Nesta and Elain are polar opposites.” That much was true, anyway. Elain wouldn’t tell Lucien to go fuck himself like Nesta had when they collectively realized she had been on again, off again dating Lucien’s eldest brother. Elain would be polite even if she hated Lucien’s guts.
“We’ll see,” he muttered, wrapping a scarf around his neck. For the duration of the slow drive, Lucien offered Feyre the most in-depth history she could have ever wanted and Feyre took notes on her phone. Aldovia was a monarchy with a surprisingly bloody history right up until World War II, when they’d gone the way of the Scandinavian countries and become more collectivist. They were small and didn’t have a standing military which, as an American, always surprised her.
By the time Feyre reached Elain’s two-story brownstone, her head ached from all the information Lucien was trying to stuff inside. “Honestly, I might have a book—”
“Of course you do,” she muttered, ringing Elain’s doorbell. “I don’t need a book. You know magazine readers don’t care about history like you do.”
“Well the magazine readers are—” Lucien abruptly stopped the moment the front door opened. Elain was gorgeous as usual, her waist length hair curling softly around her softly made-up face. She wore black and grey checked pants and a white blouse tucked neatly inside, the top two buttons undone to offer the barest hint of skin.
She glanced at Lucien for a moment, unaware that he was openly staring, before inviting them in. “I made ham.”
“Of course you did,” Feyre replied, shrugging out of her coat. Elain’s apartment was gorgeous, each piece of furniture expertly chosen to be both functional and beautiful. Elain had that kind of talent and always had. Despite how much cream furniture she owned, everything felt warm and inviting.
“That’s your painting,” Lucien said with surprise, gesturing towards an ocean landscape Feyre had done for Elain years earlier when she’d been too poor to afford a birthday gift.
“It’s my favorite,” Elain said with a sigh, her heels clicking on the hardwood.
“I have Fey’s Autumn Woods in my living room,” Lucien told her sister, undoing his scarf to hang on the coat rack beside the door. Elain paused to look over her shoulder, a faint smile on her lips.
“A man of taste, I see.”
“Stop it,” Feyre muttered, embarrassed but in this, Elain and Lucien were united even if they didn’t know it. Elain had been begging Feyre to let her set up an online store for her artwork since Feyre had lived with Elain as a junior in college.
Elain clicked her tongue and vanished down the hall to the kitchen. Lucien turned to Feyre, eyebrows raised.
Is she single? He mouthed moments before Feyre hit him in the stomach with the back of her hand.
“She’s out of your league,” Feyre whispered. Lucien merely grinned, trailing behind her.
“So, I wrote out all the designers who attended New York fashion week,” Elain said, tying a pale pink apron around her waist. Lucien was poking through Elain’s bookshelf in the living room, nosy as usual.
“This is great,” Feyre said with a sigh, sitting at the rounded wooden table in Elain’s expansive kitchen. She didn’t want to think what this place must have cost Elain, in part because Elain deserved good things. Her former fiancé, Graysen, had recently cheated on her before dumping her in a public, brutal fashion and Feyre knew how it felt to love a man that never loved you back…at least in the way she’d loved him. Elain made heartbreak look easy—if her sister had laid awake at night sobbing and eating her feelings, she certainly never showed it. Feyre, on the other hand, had only left her apartment when Lucien began dragging her out which was why they ate dinner together every night. Feyre knew he’d stopped dating for the time being to make sure she was okay and though maybe it was selfish, she genuinely appreciated that he was looking after her.
“Tell her about Aldovia!” Lucien called. Elain’s brows raised.
Lucien strode in and Feyre bit back the scowl when she noticed his sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was trying to be sexy. She’d murder him. Elain glanced at him, cheeks flushed and Feyre all but groaned.
“Feyre’s been given an assignment to see if Prince Rhysand is going to ascend to the throne.”
Elain’s eyes lit up. “Fey, that’s amazing! Your first assignment! Oh my God, okay, let me go grab that dress I bought—”
“Elain!” Feyre protested but Elain stepped around Lucien to jog down the hall, unaware of how he leaned to watch her go.
“Do you mind?” Feyre hissed. Lucien only shrugged, clearly unashamed. A moment later Elain returned with a pale blue, sparkly gown she spread over the dining room table.
“I have others,” Elain breathed. “But this one has never been worn.”
“Where were you planning on wearing this?” Feyre couldn’t help but ask, fingering one of the jewels lightly.
Elain shrugged. “Maybe someone I hate is about to get married and I wanted to upstage her.”
Lucien snorted with laughter and Elain flushed with pleasure. “Feyre, you can’t go to a castle and not take at least one nice dress.”
“You should probably take like…five,” Lucien added, doing quick math in his head.
“Five?” Feyre gasped.
“Yes, definitely,” Elain replied, walking back to her bedroom. Feyre gathered up the beautiful blue dress, hugging it to her chest as she followed after Elain, sandwiched by Lucien’s large body. Elain’s bedroom was a space she definitely thought Lucien had no business in, judging by how he looked around with interest. Not that Elain noticed, vanishing into a closet as big as Feyre’s bathroom.
“Get it together,” Feyre hissed when Lucien walked to the large, cream colored bed and ran a hand over the blanket.
“I’m going to marry her,” he whispered in response. “We’re going to be family.”
“I’ll kill you,” Feyre shot back moments before Elain walked back out, dumping a stack of gowns atop her bed. Even Lucien looked surprised by what he saw and if Elain was embarrassed, she didn’t let it show.
“Black, I think,” Elain murmured, pulling out another floor length dress that looked as though it had a slit cut to her navel.
Lucien reached for a golden one, pulling it from the stack to admire the fabric.
“Have you worn all these?” Feyre asked, flopping on Elain’s bed.
“Mostly,” Elain replied, studying her pile the way a scientist might examine something beneath a microscope. “Not that one. Do you want to take it?”
Judging by the way Lucien was staring at the dress, she decided she’d let Elain keep it and ruin his life by wearing it one day. There was no way in hell Lucien would ever get within touching distance of her sister. Elain had a very specific, very brunette type.
“No, I’m too pale for gold.”
“True,” Elain agreed without malice. “Red, then.”
“You act like I’m going to marry him,” Feyre mumbled, letting her sister add clothes to her pile. “This is just an assignment.”
“What if you need to attend fancy dinners?” Elain shot back. “Or balls—”
“This is not a fairy tale,” Feyre insisted. “I have slacks.”
Elain huffed, turning to her dresser to pull out nice dress clothes but Feyre stopped her. “Elain it’s fine. This guy dates supermodels, right? I don’t need to worry about impressing him. I’m not you.”
“Don’t say that,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re beautiful.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Feyre mumbled, catching the look Elain and Lucien exchanged.
“At least take these three,” Elain finally said, shoving each dress into her sister’s hand.
Dinner was fun and Feyre didn’t hate the idea of Lucien and Elain. Lucien was a shameless flirt, not that Elain noticed. Perhaps she was so used to men acting that way she barely registered it, though Feyre noticed that Elain watched him more closely when he got serious. Between Elain’s knowledge of fashion and Lucien’s knowledge of history, she thought there was no one better prepared to go to Aldovia. Feyre had hundreds of words written in her notes, had the dresses Elain had shoved on her folded neatly in a suitcase, and a book Lucien insisted she take tucked beneath her arm when she strolled into the airport.
It didn’t occur to her until after she checked in that she’d never thought to just google the guy. Pulling out her phone, Feyre saw she had another missed text from a new number that she would have bet her life belonged to Tamlin. The fact that he couldn’t leave her alone when he should have been grateful the worst, he got was his face bloodied by Lucien was just astounding to her. She blocked it without bothering to look at the message, but her hands shook a little as she typed in Rhysands name.
That was a mistake, she decided. He was easily the best-looking man she’d ever seen in her life. How unfair, she reflected. If he had to be royalty, the least he deserved was a weird looking face. Rhysand was beautiful in a way that made Feyre’s heart race. Blue-black hair fell into eyes so blue they were practically violet, off-set by sun-kissed skin. The first picture she’d pulled up was a blurry pap shot of him without a shirt on, adding insult to injury. His body was sheer perfection, the kind artists used to carve from marble. Of course, in the photo he was standing beside a blonde woman in a teeny bikini and that reminded Feyre that his good looks had likely made him an asshole.
With that in mind, Feyre felt much better stepping onto a plane to fly halfway around the world. She’d never meet him, would likely only see him from a distance assuming he showed up at all, and all of Lucien and Elain’s prep work would be for nothing. She was still safe.
With that in mind, Feyre slept for most of the flight, waking for a rough landing on the tarmac. It was her first time alone somewhere and with each new step, Feyre felt a sense of excitement. She’d been chosen, maybe because no one else could go, but chosen nonetheless. She fired two quick texts to Lucien and Elain separately, letting them both know she’d made it and urging Lucien to come join her perhaps a tad selfishly.
Afterall, it would have been nice to have a friend. She felt that when three men cut her in the taxi line, stealing the car she’d waited for without little more than a grin. “Hey!” She’d yelled, frustrated when the largest of the three turned to look at her, winked, and then slid in after the other two. No apologies, no explanations. It took fifteen minutes for another cab to roll up and by the time Feyre was checked into her hotel and on the shuttle to the palace, she was more than a little stressed.
The palace itself was built into a snowcapped mountain surrounded by tall evergreen pines. It was something from a Christmas movie, something only Disney himself could have dreamt up. She had her nose practically pressed to the glass window, drinking in the surroundings. Feyre had never seen anything half as lovely in her life—unblemished snow covered the ground just beside the winding mountain road they travelled, sparkling beneath a cold winter sun. She wondered what it would be like to live somewhere so beautiful.
How are things going? Lucien asked Feyre when she sat in a gray cushioned, hardbacked chair. Press badge around her neck, Feyre shook out her hands, pleased to be in the middle of the crowd. She didn’t have any specific questions, didn’t really care what the spoiled prince would do.
Not great, she sent Lucien back when a busy press coordinator came out to announce there would be no press briefing, rescheduled or otherwise. They were told to pack it up, that Rhysand was definitely accepting the throne, and practically kicked out of the palace.
She couldn’t go home empty handed. She wasn’t going to be stuck in a dead-end job for the rest of her life. She didn’t have to love writing in order to want to do well.
You’ll bail me out of jail, right? She texted Lucien, sideling away from the group to circle back towards the palace. She felt his immediate response, likely demanding she not do whatever it was she was thinking but Feyre was already half jogging up a flight of stone steps to a side door. Decorated with green garland and a massive wreath, it was both festive and somehow overdone. She didn’t know what, exactly, she was looking for—only that she’d know when she saw it. Feyre was surprised that the palace felt more like a museum or an upscale office. Red carpet and muted wallpaper with nondescript art hanging on the walls all leant itself to a space that was neutral at best, unoffensive at worst. She crept through the hall, coming to a large foyer decorated charmingly with suits of armor wearing curling red ribbons around their neck. She pulled out her phone, ignoring Lucien’s all-caps text demanding she rethink her life choices, and snapped a photo.
“What are you doing?” A masculine voice behind her demanded. Feyre turned suddenly, surprised to find herself looking at one of the men who stole her taxi the morning before. Tall, broad, and muscular, he looked like he wrestled bears for fun.
“Uh…” She stammered, trying to think of any good reason to be taking pictures of suits of armor. “I was…”
“Oh. American,” he said with a roll of his hazel eyes. “You’re the portraitist, aren’t you?”
The what? “Yes,” she lied automatically. Anything to keep herself from trouble. The broad man’s expression relaxed into an easy-going, handsome smile. He was young, tan, and decidedly rugged despite his well-fitted pants and his buttoned up shirt. Shoulder length brown hair was half tied from his face with a neat bun, leaving the rest to wave around a jaw carved from rock.
“Thank God,” he said with a smile. “We were starting to think you’d ghosted us.”
“Nope, no ghosting,” Feyre assured him even as her mind screamed at her to tell the truth and get out. “Just a long flight.”
The man glanced sideways at her, gesturing for her to following him through the foyer towards a grand marble staircase.
“Must have been some flight,” he murmured, his tone betraying that she’d been missing much longer than she thought. Feyre offered a half-smile, hands trembling at her sides. “Anyway you’re in luck. Rhys just got in and he’s not in a shitty mood. Do…whatever it is you need to…do you need paint or something?”
Fuck. “Uh…yeah but not today. It’s a process,” she said truthfully. “I’m gonna just…take some pictures and get a feel for you know…the room…and stuff.”
“And stuff,” the man beside her repeated. “Okay. You’re the expert, I guess. Just…no talking to the press, okay? They’re circling like eager rats.”
“Right,” Feyre replied, not bothering to mention that she was one of those rats.
“If you need anything, let me know. I’m Cassian, by the way. I was the one talking to your boss on the phone I guess…I thought you were going to be a man.”
“Sorry to disappoint?” Feyre asked, praying to every God ever known that the actual portraitist didn’t show up and blow her cover. Cassian shook his head, leading Feyre down a series of connected halls.
“Did you bring things with you?”
“Yeah…they’re at my hotel,” she replied as though it were obvious. Cassian’s steps faltered.
“Hotel? You’re supposed to be staying here. What hotel? I’ll send Az to get your things.”
“That’s not necessary…I can get my own stuff,” Feyre replied, unsure who Az was or if she wanted him rifling through her stuff and accidentally letting them all know who she really was.
Cassian hesitated outside of two large, gold leaf double doors. “We really need this to go well. Az’ll drive you back into town for your things. Don’t tell anyone you’re working on a portrait, okay?”
“I won’t,” Feyre replied, hoping she looked sincere and not guilty. Cassian assessed Feyre one last time, biting his lower lip and then nodded.
“Painter is here!” He called, yanking open the door. Feyre was stunned momentarily by the beauty of the throne room Cassian had lead her into. It was open and airy, with white marble columns that matched the black swirled floors. Unlike the muted halls leading up to the room, the throne room seemed cut from decadence. Her eyes traveled to a gorgeous crystal chandelier overhead twinkling in the bright winter sunlight.
Sitting atop a dais, lounging in a golden throne, the most beautiful man Feyre had ever seen sat up, brushing a piece of lint from his black shirt.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” he told her, rising to his full height. The photos she’d seen of him on the internet didn’t do him justice—he didn’t look real, he was so handsome. He smiled, revealing two perfect rows of white teeth, his eyes so blue they were violet which contrasted nicely with his inky black hair.
She didn’t know what to say so Feyre let her eyes wander the room again, hoping she looked studious and not overwhelmed by how good looking he was.
“Not today,” she managed to get out. “I’m going to take some pictures and then put together a sketch.” She didn’t have to lie, at least, about her ability to draw. She’d need to go to the local art supply store and get things to work with but Feyre thought she could put together a good portrait of him given enough time. He was certainly easy on the eyes.
He nodded, his gaze blazing and on her. Had anyone ever looked so intently at her in her life? It made her nervous, like he could see through her lies.
“Where do you want me?” He asked, gesturing around the space. His space. He’d be King, she realized…and she was supposed to be writing a story about him, not drawing his face. Maybe she could do both, she reasoned. After all, was it her fault if none of them background checked who came in and out of their lives? He was practically inviting disaster. She’d do a thoughtful, polite write-up, she decided. As an apology for her deception.
“Where would you like to be?”
“Far away,” Rhys admitted with a sigh. “But a long line of portraits have us on the throne and I suppose it would be bad form to defy tradition.”
Feyre gestured for him to sit, and Rhys did, back straight, hands resting on the arm. She pulled out her phone, opened the camera, and immediately began studying the way shadow and light fell on him. There was truly no better study for the human form than Rhysand.
There was something invasive and wrong about the photos she took and yet Feyre took them anyway. She was going to draw him, she promised. Rhysand didn’t move, seemed used to being photographed in this way though to Feyre it all felt very intimate.
“That’s…that’s all I need,” she murmured once she had a few from several different angles. “I can sketch something this evening and you could take a look tomorrow?”
He shrugged, rising from his throne. “I don’t care, to be honest…” He looked at her expectantly.
“Feyre. My name is Feyre.”
“Unusual name,” he replied. “Anyway, I don’t care how it looks.”
“Why commission one at all, then?” Feyre snapped without thinking. Rhys raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised.
“Why, indeed? Let me show you to your room.”
“Is that something princes do?” Feyre asked snappishly, strangely annoyed he didn’t care how his portrait turned out. Rhys shrugged.
“This one does, though I could call Cassian back if you’d prefer?”
“He was nice,” Feyre murmured, more to herself. That made Rhysand laugh.
“He’ll be relieved to hear it. Come on, Feyre darling. I have other things I need to do today.”
Feyre nodded, swallowing hard. Following after him had the strangest feeling attached, as though she were walking to more than just a bedroom.
It was as though she walked towards fate.
Christian Krohg (1852-1925)
“Leiv Eirikson discovering America” (1893)
Oil on canvas
Located in the National Gallery, Oslo, Norway
Leif Erikson, Leiv Eiriksson or Leif Ericson, also known as Leif the Lucky (c. 970-c. 1020) was a Norse explorer from Iceland. He is thought to have been the first European to have set foot on continental North America (excluding Greenland) around the year 1000 AD, approximately half a millennium before Christopher Columbus.
Leif Erikson Day is an annual observance that occurs on October 9th in the United States, Canada, and Iceland. October 9 is not associated with any particular event in Leif Erikson's life; the date was chosen because the ship Restauration coming from Stavanger, Norway, arrived in New York Harbor on October 9, 1825, beginning a wave of immigration from Norway to the US (this is despite Erikson not being Norwegian).
Florence is one of the main stops on any art lover's European itinerary. At the Uffizi Galleries, visitors can have their fill of works by Renaissance masters Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo and Raphael.
Of course, none of these artists are women.
In 2009, a new nonprofit foundation in Florence started to investigate why.
"I started going into museum storages and attics and checking what was actually there, what works by women," says Linda Falcone, the director of Advancing Women Artists. "It was something that had never been done before because no one had ever before asked the question, 'Where are the women?'"
In the years since, AWA has shed light on a forgotten part of the art world, identifying some 2,000 works by women artists that had been gathering dust in Italy's public museums and in damp churches. It has also financed the restoration of 70 works spanning the 16th to the 20th centuries.
The organization was founded by Jane Fortune, an American philanthropist who died in 2018. Fortune was an intrepid art detective whom Florentines nicknamed "Indiana Jane" in homage to her native state and her Renaissance treasure hunting skills.
For centuries in Italy — the cradle of Renaissance masters — women with artistic talent were not allowed to enter academies. And the names of the few female artists from centuries past have mostly faded into oblivion.
During the Renaissance, Falcone says, "Women didn't have citizenship. They couldn't produce art as a profession. They couldn't issue invoices. They couldn't study anatomy."
So, she says, "No in-the-nude figures, for example, because it just wasn't considered appropriate. The inability to study in the same forum as male artists is very significant."
And yet the artists persisted. A few Italian women were able to study painting in their fathers' studios — most notably Artemisia Gentileschi, daughter of the 17th century painter Orazio Gentileschi.
AWA is responsible for restoring David and Bathsheba, one of her paintings that was found after being hidden in a Florentine palazzo's attic for 3 1/2 centuries.
The group also rediscovered a 21-ft.-long canvas depicting 13 life-size males — the only known Last Supper painted by a woman. It is by the 16th century Dominican nun Plautilla Nelli — whose workshop was inside a convent in Florence.
Florence has a long Last Supper painting tradition. But, says Falcone, most of the works are static.
"Whereas," she says, "Nelli actually chooses sort of the key moment in which Christ announces his betrayal. And you have all of the apostles feeling the emotion of that very serious news. And so she is able to do a study of their responses, of their psychological responses."
And, unlike most Last Suppers by male artists, Nelli puts food on the table, says Falcone.
"She has lettuce, she has salt cellars, a lot of wine, bread for every apostle and knives and forks and beans and lamb — she did a Last Supper were people were meant to eat, first of all," she says.
Also, unlike male artists of the time, Nelli signed her canvas — adding the words "pray for the paintress."
The nun's works were prized by Florentines during the 16th century because they were believed to be imbued with spirituality. Her contemporary, the art historian Giorgio Vasari, wrote that she "would have done marvelous things if, like men, she had been able to study and to devote herself to drawing and copying living and natural things."
Art restorer Elizabeth Wicks, an American based in Florence, says that like so many female artists, Nelli was then forgotten.
"It seems to me to be about the middle of the 19th century when these paintings stop being mentioned in the guidebooks," she says. "Women artists stop being mentioned. And if nobody writes about you, then you fade from history."
With backing from Advancing Women Artists, Wicks is currently restoring two large works by Violante Ferroni, an 18th century child prodigy of whom little is known today.
Born in 1720, Ferroni lived in a period of great sociological change in Florence, says writer Ann Golob, who has done research work for AWA.
"We do know that well-educated women certainly were getting much more of a seat at the table and there were definitely a few women who were achieving much greater prominence than beforehand," she says.
At the time, female artists were usually limited to painting still-lifes and small portraits. But while still in her 20s, Ferroni was awarded a prestigious commission by Florence's San Giovanni di Dio hospital to paint two ovals — each of them 8-by-11 1/2 feet — with spiritual scenes to help heal the ill. The subject was usually reserved for men.
For Wicks, restoring these paintings during the coronavirus pandemic has had particular relevance.
"Just to be able to work on this project was so healing for me," she says. "I mean, I was healing the art, but I was also healing myself in a certain sense."
The art of healing has been a constant theme of AWA's mission, says Falcone.
"Art is a living entity and a piece of art has its life," she says. "You know, it gets hurt. It gets damaged. It it needs renewal. It needs to be talked about and paid attention to, et cetera."
Falcone says that through restoration work, documentation and exhibits, AWA has contributed to a growing worldwide interest in and awareness of art by women. Yet the organization recently announced it is shutting down next June because it does not have sufficient funds to expand.
Falcone says the group has accomplished what it set out to do.
"It's a victory," she says, "because we're saying, wow, we're at a point where the museums are starting to place value on the female part of their collection."
Advancing Women Artists has fulfilled its mission, says Falcone because art lovers are now beginning to find answers to the question: Where are the women?
Greece was concured by Turks for 400 years but Crete for only 200 years. In that time period (bc back then it was the Renaissance Era) how different it was there compared to the mainland greece in terms of lifestyle, fashion, architecture).
Before getting to the question, let's clarify that nearly all islands suffered significantly shorter Turkish occupation than the mainland. The most notable example was the Heptanese islands, which were never conquered, but plenty other islands had occupations that lasted for very short periods, like, 6 - 100 years.
Anyway, regarding your question, Crete was occupied for 400 years by the Republic of Venice since the second crusade (1204 AD) until the mids of the 17th century when Turks defeated the Venetians and took over. At this era, Crete was known as Kingdom of Candia. Initially, Cretans resisted the Venetians and attempted numerous revolts. Eventually though, the island prospered and was influenced by the Italian Renaissance.
Western Crete, especially, has cities with Venetian architecture and there are several Venetian monuments such as Frangokastello.
The Venetian harbour of Chania, a Venetian fountain in Rethymno and Frangocastello.
Art flourished in Crete where the Cretan School of Painting was founded. The most influential Greek artist of the time was the Cretan Domenikos Theotokopoulos, who became known in Europe as "El Greco", meaning "The Greek".
Christ Cleansing the Temple - El Greco, 1569, now in the National Gallery of Art, Washington, USA
Unsurprisingly, the greatest Greek literature and poetry of the era and modern pre-Independence times in general is also Cretan, with Erotokritos by Vitsentzos Kornaros (1600) and Erophile by Georgios Hortatsis (1637), being two of the most notable works.
The original cover of Erophile (1637).
In Erotokritos, for example, we can see the influence of Western European culture on Crete. Kornaros creates a universe with diverse elements; the story supposedly takes place in Ancient Athens, yet there are elements that are Byzantine Greek or folk and other customs and ways inspired by western Europe, such as jousting.
An illustration of "jousting" in an "Erotokritos" manuscript from 1710, completed in the Heptanese islands, the other region of Greece with major west European influence. The manuscipt is now in the British Museum.
Many of the few (whatever that means) Greek philosophers of the era were from Crete.
As for fashion, according to the following source Cretans were reluctant to follow the new fashion trends Venetians brought with them and as a result their attires were archaic, still following Ancient and Byzantine trends. I believe that because the traditional clothing of Crete doesn't look more western or too distant from the various local fashions of other Greek regions. So at the time Cretans would wear the Greek tunica or short cloaks for the winter and boots. They also carried old-fashioned bows and arrows, as well as knifes, and it was a great shame for a man to have no beard. Some of these elements have been preserved to the traditional Cretan attires, such as the war knifes, the boots and the definite preference for a bearded face or at least a mustache.
Here is another illustration of fashion in the Kingdom of Candia though:
Women from Heraklion, Crete - Claude Aubriet, 1665-1742.
There must have been some western influence in the fashion of the era, apparently though most of these elements were not preserved by the local population after the departure of the Venetians.
Opening next month, Monet to Morisot: The Real and Imagined in European Art is a new thematic reinstallation of the Museum’s renowned holdings of 19th and 20th century European art, featuring nearly 90 paintings, sculptures, and works on paper by artists including Claude Monet, Camille Pissarro, Berthe Morisot, Francisco Oller, Henri Matisse, Pablo Picasso, Gabriele Münter, Yves Tanguy, and Vasily Kandinsky. Casting fresh eyes on the collection, this presentation explores not only the profound and ongoing influence of modern European art, but also how the art historical canon itself is a site of tension.
Many of these works will be on view together in Brooklyn for the first time since 2016, when they began touring the United States and Asia in the acclaimed exhibition French Moderns: Monet to Matisse, 1850–1950. You can see them at the Brooklyn Museum, in new galleries on the fifth floor, beginning February 4.
Claude Monet (French, 1840–1926). The Doge’s Palace, 1908. Oil on canvas. Brooklyn Museum; Gift of A. Augustus Healy, 20.634. ⇨ Berthe Morisot (French, 1841–1895). Mme Boursier and Her Daughter), circa 1873. Oil on canvas. Brooklyn Museum; Museum Collection Fund, 29.30.
Danganronpa Decadence official announcement, collector’s edition revealed
Spike Chunsoft has put out an official announcement for Danganronpa Decadence. Read the press release in full below.
Spike Chunsoft, Inc. is pleased to announce that Danganronpa is coming to Nintendo Switch™ later this year! Danganronpa Decadence contains the three main titles in the legendary Danganronpa franchise, Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc Anniversary Edition, Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair Anniversary Edition, and Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony Anniversary Edition, and also features the brand-new title Danganronpa S: Ultimate Summer Camp, a boardgame-style bonus game with all-new scenes and interactions between your favorite characters!
Celebrate the 10th Anniversary of Danganronpa with this exclusive Nintendo Switch four-games-in-one bundle.
In Danganronpa 1, 2, and V3, you and your classmates must participate in a killing game; the only way to survive is to correctly identify the killer during the Class Trial, and be the last one standing!
Each game comes with a gallery feature that allows you to view event illustrations, scenes, and listen to voiced dialogue!
Includes Danganronpa S: Ultimate Summer Camp, the 10th Anniversary title that’s an expanded version of the Ultimate Talent Development Plan bonus content from Danganronpa V3!
About Danganronpa S: Ultimate Summer Camp
With an all-star dream lineup of characters from each Danganronpa game, gather Hope Fragments at a tropical resort. Explore Jabberwock Island and develop your Dangan characters. Gather money through battle and upgrade your equipment, then defeat bosses and move on to the next island!
All four games will be available for individual purchase on Nintendo eShop!
Physical versions will be published in European regions by Numskull Games.
Pre-order will be available soon! Stay tuned for more info.
Danganronpa Decadence – Danganronpa 1, 2, V3, and brand-new title Danganronpa S: Ultimate Summer Camp on one game card.
10th Anniversary Poster – 18×24″ cloth poster featuring brand-new art of Shuichi, Nagito, and Kyoko drawn by Danganronpa character designer Rui Komatsuzaki.
Remix OST – Special edition! Danganronpa music producer Masafumi Takada pours his heart and soul into this 10-track remixed soundtrack.
Danganronpa Lenticular Print Set – 3 lenticular prints displaying cover art and characters from the Danganronpa series.
Collector’s Outer Box – Sleek, 9x7x1.38″ premium pop-lid metal box perfect for display for any Danganronpa fan.
Pre-order will be available soon! Stay tuned for more info.
Castlevania Advance Collection - Announcement Trailer
Castlevania Advance Collection is available now for PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Nintendo Switch, and PC via Steam for $19.99.
Join the fight against Evil in the Castlevania Advance Collection, a compilation of timeless action-exploration masterpieces!
In addition to the three legendary Castlevania games that were first released in the early 2000s, this collection also includes Castlevania: Dracula X and some never-before-seen sketches and artwork from the games!
All four games are enhanced with newly added modern features such as Rewind, Save/Load and Replay, making this the best way possible to experience these classics or discover them for the first time! This collection also boasts a handy Encyclopedia, a Music Player with all soundtracks and you can even change the ROM Region to play all games in different versions.
Castlevania: Circle of the Moon (2001) – Combine action and attribute cards to create over 80 unique spell effects, ranging from fire whips to ice blizzards, with the “Dual Set-up System.” The story follows Nathan Graves, a vampire hunter apprentice who enters Dracula’s Castle along with his Master in order to prevent the dreaded return of the Count.
Castlevania: Harmony of Dissonance (2002) – This title introduced a lot of new features to the franchise, such as “Boss Rush” mode and the “Spell Fusion” system that lets players combine Sub-Weapons with Spell Books to cast devastating spells. Play as Juste Belmont, the grandson of legendary Vampire Hunter Simon Belmont!
Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow (2003) – Aria of Sorrow introduced a brand new attack system called “Tactical Souls,” that lets Soma Cruz capture the souls of slain monsters to acquire their abilities. (100+ abilities in total!) Aria of Sorrow also has a ton of New Game+ content. Soma Cruz, a young high school exchange student in Japan, is somehow involved in the eternal cycle of reincarnation of the Dark Lord himself. What role does Soma play in all of this? Will he be able to return to his own world?
Castlevania: Dracula X (1995) – Fight your way through Dracula’s Castle and defeat the toughest enemies with the new special attack “Item Crash”! Castlevania: Dracula X is a reimagination of the cult action game Castlevania: Rondo of Blood and has been acclaimed as one of the most challenging Castlevania titles ever created. The Dark Lord Count Dracula rises again from the dead to revive the forces of darkness and to annihilate this corrupted world and create a new one. You are Richter Belmont, heir of the Belmont family, and you set out for Dracula’s Castle to defeat its evil master.
Gallery – Browse through scans of the original package designs and discover incredible artwork never shown to the public before. Listen to any of four complete soundtracks any time you want. You can even create your own playlists!
Rewind – You can now rewind the state of the game for a few seconds for a second chance. It is almost like being resurrected…
Quick Save – You can now quickly save and reload at any point in the game. Even right before that deadly attack from Dracula himself.
ROM Region Selection – You can choose between the Japanese, American, and European versions for each game.
Encyclopedia – Detailed information on enemies, the “DSS” system, the “Tactical Soul” system, and the “Spell Fusion” system will help you truly master each game’s unique combat system!
This is very cool and different- it’s a loft in Taiwan, and it has name- “The Family Playground.” Love the pipe divider wall- it’s like art, but you can sit on it, and hang things.
The whole design was redone to the owner’s specifications. The kitchen is not typical of Taiwan houses- the owner wanted the kitchen & dining areas to be a part of the living room.
He wanted it to be the family “center” so that while someone is cooking, the other family members can be watching TV, talking, etc.
This is definitely not a new concept in American, European, Scandinavian, and lots of other homes’ layouts.
Even the pipe room divider differs from Taiwanese domestic screen which is usually made for Fung-shui and storage.
The home office area can be closed off with a retractable wall.
They put up the glass shelving b/c they wanted the hallway to be a gallery, not just a hallway.
This wall acts as a family message center and for some, a place to make some art.
They have more than one office areas in the home- this one is more casual and not for hours of desk work- it’s more for browsing thru materials, looking up information, etc.
To make this room unique, they have it a “wooden house” concept.
The master bedroom is large, and has vanity table, plus a reading corner.
The shower room is compact and standard white.