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gregdotorg · 6 months

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Sam Gilliam gave this 1979 drape painting to his longtime friend and printmaking collaborator, and fellow DC artist Lou Stovall in 2006. Stovall's estate is selling it next week.

#sam gilliam #lou stovall #swag af #dc #swann galleries

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arthistoryanimalia · 16 days

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For #InternationalBeaverDay :

"The Original Beaver Map & Its Legacy"

via Swann Galleries

#animals in art #animal holiday #european art #French art #18th century art #animals on maps #cartography #map #maps #mapmaking #beaver #beavers #International Beaver Day #article link #Swann Galleries #Nicolas de Fer #North American wildlife

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cactihut · 6 months

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concept: modern au where elizabeth & james have dreams about knowing each other in 1700s port royal but have never met irl until some fateful day when they come across one another in a destinies entwined moment except this time they’re finally joined

#my vision is that james is an artist who paints his dreams & gets featured in a gallery #while elizabeth is a scrappy entrepreneur who goes to the opening gallery night totally by chance #and she sees a painting of a woman who looks eerily just like her #they meet for the first time & get their worlds absolutely rocked #i’m not a writer but maybe one day i’ll be strong & try lmao #james norrington #elizabeth swann #norribeth #potc #pirates of the caribbean #potc au

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4eternal-life · 10 months

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ANDRÉ KERTÉSZ (1894-1985)

Puddle, Empire State Building 1967

Silver print, 9 5/8x6 1/2 inches ( 24.4x16.5 cm.)

Fine Photographs, Swann Auction Galleries

#andre kertesz #puddle #andré kertész #empire state building #reflection #photography #black and white #mu photo #mu #swann auction galleries

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clawmarks · 2 months

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Snowy owl. Birds of America - Audubon - via Swann Galleries

#birds #illustration #owls

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pintoras · 3 months

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Harriet Randall Lumis (American, 1870-1953): Wastefield (c. 1921) (via Swann Galleries)

#Harriet Randall Lumis #women artists #women painters #art #painting #twentieth century #1920s #landscape #american painters #public domain 2024

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pwlanier · 7 months

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JAMES V. HARVEY (1929 - 1965, CANADIAN/AMERICAN)

Pamplona.

Oil on canvas, 1962.

Swann Galleries

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modernimpressionism · 1 month

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a higher power compelled me to write this

Swann Arlaud x Reader Fluff

(First meetings, art museums, slight awkwardness)

1285 Words

• ───── ୨୧ ───── •

Like the work of art she was, he first saw her at a museum.

More specifically, at the Musée d'Orsay. Standing in front of Olympia. He had wandered in on a walk home from a meeting with his manager, feeling a little stressed and pretty annoyed. He assumed a walk around an air-conditioned maze would calm his mind a bit, and this one was just the closest when he googled 'museum'. He recalls visiting it as a boy because being a child in Paris meant field trips to insane historical monuments and world-famous museums.

She stared at the painting as if trying to memorize every brush stroke, occasionally adjusting the tote bag on her shoulder or tucking her hair behind her ear, but not moving onto another piece. The relaxed nude figure seemed to entrance her like the woman was communicating something secret and sensual and womanly through 150 years of dried pigment.

This gave him plenty of time to memorize her as well, to notice the hair falling gently on her back. Her fingers, the nails neatly painted but the skin around them picked and chewed to bits. She wore a watch on her left wrist, a real watch that ticked silently with the seconds, he thought higher of her because of this but couldn't place why. Her clothes looked nice, but not excessive. He imagined her being picky with what she wore, and not caring about brands or fashion houses, which felt rare in Paris. The tote bag on her shoulder was obviously full, and he yearned to hold it for her, to take the weight off if only for a moment. She obviously carried it every day and thought little of the weight anymore, but he was willing to take it.

He paused his study for a moment to look around the gallery. He noticed the similarity between all of the paintings, and with how long she was staring at the one, he assumed she must be a fan.

Shit

He leaned over to check the name of the artist on a few of the paintings, Manet, Manet, Manet, ok. He pulls his phone out and quickly searches for him. If he's going to talk to this woman, he should at least pretend to have a reason to.

He was starting to regret not paying attention during those field trips.

He slipped his phone back into his back pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. It seemed like he was eternally trying to fix it, and if there was ever a time for it to behave, it was right now.

He took one confident step before she started moving and he lost all of his nerve. He snapped his head around before finding a random painting to pretend to stare at, hoping she didn't notice his extended and possibly creepy staring. He shoved his hands in his front pockets to try to look calmer than he was.

He heard the slight tap of her shoes against the stone floor but didn't dare to look where she was going. This is disastrous, he thought, deciding to leave as soon as she stopped moving. He was counting down the seconds when he felt a slight shade move on his left side and heard her movements more closely.

She stood right next to them, looking at the same painting.

His plan to abandon ship quickly dissipated, knowing this was the only opportunity he had to talk to her. If he ignored her now and followed her around the museum to talk to her later, he would look mental.

He scanned the painting in a panic, trying to understand 150 years of art history before opening his mouth. To him, it just looked like a couple of people standing on a balcony but he felt like it meant much more to her. He thought that if he waited any more, he would lose his nerve, so he opened his mouth and...

"J'aime le chien"

"Oh, I. I'm sorry but I'm still learning French, I'm not sure-"

"You're American!"

Shit!

In his anxiety-ridden brain, he forgot to shut his mouth and his words bypassed any filter he possessed. It's over, this was a total failure, he thought as he felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

But instead he heard her giggle gently, before responding,

"I am! All of my life actually"

Oh god, and she's funny...

He smiled back at her with his signature goofy lopsided smile, too engrossed by her face, her mouth, her eyes to actually respond to anything.

"I like the dog too", she replies after a few silent seconds.

They both stared at the small animal painted in the bottom left corner, tucked into the petticoat of a figure. His eyes weren't visible beneath his fur, permanently hidden from the world. Looking at the animal and hearing her approval gave him the confidence to keep their conversation going a bit longer.

"So is he your favorite?"

"He's one of my favorites, i just love the choice of subjects, how average they were."

He's entranced by her voice. By the way her lips move to make the words, by the way her eyes light up as she speaks about art. He realizes that he must look silly, staring at her speak with a dumb smile, but he can't bring himself to care.

"Have you ever seen where he painted? In Giverny?"

She tilts her head slightly at that question, slightly confused.

Shit.

"Do you mean Monet? With the lilies? He painted in Giverny. This is Manet."

SHIT!

His mouth opens and closes like a fish, feeling like a deer in headlights, he can't possibly save this now.

So he just starts laughing. A genuine belly laugh, full of joy at his own stupidity. And then she starts laughing just as hard.

"Did you just google him a minute ago?", she asks, in between giggles.

"I did, it must have been uh... vérification orthographique.. spellcheck"

They look at each other earnestly, both admiring the other.

"I'm Y/N", she says, reaching out her hand.

He grabs it and is astounded by how comfortable he feels in hers

"Swann"

*One Year Later*

"Love I told you, I didn't want anything for our anniversary, just to do things together"

"Well this is a together present, sort of, it's for uh.. l'appartement"

He pulls a large, flat, wrapped present from the back of his closet, lifting it and placing it in front of Y/N, who's sat on their bed. He sits down next to her, leaning one hand on the bed behind her, subconsciously wanting to be close to her.

Her hands reach for the paper and start tearing, she makes a mental note of his gift-wrapping skills, assigning him that job in the future. Her were always horribly crumpled, but he was neat and untarnished, and she almost felt bad destroying it.

She quickly uncovered a gold frame with a glass pane, something familiar peeking out from inside.

"It's the Manet painting, The Balcony. A print of it, I mean. I thought it would be nice to hang out here since it's ours." he says, almost shyly... No matter how confident he was, he always felt the risk of gift-giving.

"Swann, I love it, It's perfect"

She places the framed print on the bed behind her, safely, before throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him with as much love as she could muster. It was such a quick transition that he was almost surprised, but he soon caught up and reached his arm around her and grabbed her waist, pulling her tighter. After a while, he placed a hand on her cheek to pull her away and leaned in to kiss her lips gently and with love.

"Joyeux anniversaire chérie, I would get you the real painting if I could.

#swann arlaud #swann arlaud x reader #fluff

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hauntedbystorytelling · 12 days

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Storyville portraits · E.J. Bellocq

E.J. Bellocq (1873-1949) ~ [Storyville Portrait], New Orleans, 1911-1913. Gold toned printing out paper, printed in 1973 by Lee Friedlander | src Bonhams view more on wordPress

Ernest Joseph Bellocq (1873-1949) ~ [Storyville Portrait], New Orleans, 1911-1913 | src Swann & the photographers' gallery

Ernest Joseph Bellocq was a native New Orleans French Creole photographer, whose Storyville portraits captured the vibrant scene in Storyville, the city’s red-light district, circa 1912. The glass plate negatives were not discovered until after…

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