Wednesday, January 27, 2010

excerpt from The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter

The Bloody Chamber (1979), a short story by Angela Carter, is a feminist reinterpretation of the folktale Bluebeard. It "explicitly deal(s) with the horrific or corrupting aspects of marriage and/or sex and the balance of power within such relationships." (thanks Wikipedia!) Carter's description of the Marquis' wedding gift (the "cruel necklace") has directly inspired my imagery in several works, and I've included details of this imagery below.

Kym Hepworth / detail, Valentine / mixed media / 21 1/8 x 14 3/8 x 2 in. / 2004

"He was older than I. He was much older than I; there were streaks of pure silver in his dark mane. But his strange, heavy, almost waxen face was not lined by experience. Rather, experience seemed to have washed it perfectly smooth, like a stone on a beach whose fissures have eroded by successive tides. And sometimes that face, in stillness when he listened to me playing, with the heavy eyelids folded over eyes that always disturbed me by their absolute absence of light, seemed to me like a mask, as if his real face, the face that truly reflected all the life he had led in the world before he met me, before, even, I was born, as though that face lay underneath this mask. Or else, elsewhere. As though he had laid by the face in which he had lived for so long in order to offer my youth a face unsigned by the years.

And, elsewhere, I might see him plain. Elsewhere. But where?

Kym Hepworth, his real face

In, perhaps, that castle to which the train now took us, that marvelous castle in which he had been born.

Kym Hepworth, the castle where he was born

Even when he asked me to marry him, and I said "Yes," still he did not lose that heavy, fleshy composure of his. I know it must seem a curious analogy, a man with a flower, but sometimes he seemed to me like a lily. Yes. A lily. Possessed of that strange, ominous calm of a sentient vegetable, like one of those cobra-headed, funereal lilies whose white sheaths are curled out of a flesh as thick and tensely yielding to the touch as vellum. When I said that I would marry him, not one muscle in his face stirred, but he let out a long, extinguished sigh. I thought: Oh! how he must want me! And it was as though the imponderable weight of his desire was a force I might not withstand, not by virtue of its violence but because of its very gravity.

Kym Hepworth, sometimes he seemed like a lily

He had the ring ready in a leather box lined with crimson velvet, a fire opal the size of a pigeon's egg set in a complicated circle of dark antique gold. My old nurse, who still lived with my mother and me, squinted at the ring askance: opals are bad luck, she said. But this opal had been his own mother's ring, and his grandmother's, and her mother's before that, given to an ancestor by Catherine de Medici . . . every bride that came to the castle wore it, time out of mind. And did he give it to his other wives and have it back from them? asked the old woman rudely; yet she was a snob. She hid her incredulous joy at my marital coup--her little Marquise-- behind a facade of fault-finding. But, here, she touched me. I shrugged and turned my back pettishly on her. I did not want to remember how he had loved other women before me, but the knowledge often teased me in the threadbare self-confidence of the small hours.

I was seventeen and knew nothing of the world; my Marquis had been married before, more than once, and I remained a little bemused that, after those others, he should now have chosen me. Indeed, was he not still in mourning for his last wife? Tsk, tsk, went my old nurse. And even my mother had been reluctant to see her girl whisked off by a man so recently bereaved. A Romanian countess, a lady of high fashion. Dead just three short months before I met him, a boating accident, at his home, in Brittany. They never found her body, but I rummaged through the back copies of the society magazines my old nanny kept in a trunk under her bed and tracked down her photograph. The sharp muzzle of a pretty, witty, naughty monkey; such potent and bizarre charm, of a dark, bright, wild yet worldly thing whose natural habitat must have been some luxurious interior decorator's jungle filled with potted palms and tame, squawking parakeets.

Kym Hepworth, his last wife: they never found her body

Before that? Her face is common property; everyone painted her but the Redon engraving I liked best, The Evening Star Walking on the Rim of Night. To see her skeletal, enigmatic grace, you would never think she had been a barmaid in a cafe in Montmartre until Puvis de Chavannes saw her and had her expose her flat breasts and elongated thighs to his brush. And yet it was the absinthe doomed her, or so they said.

Kym Hepworth, his second wife: the absinthe doomed her

The first of all his ladies? That sumptuous diva; I had heard her sing Isolde, precociously musical child that I was, taken to the opera for a birthday treat. My first opera; I had heard her sing Isolde. With what white-hot passion had she burned from the stage! So that you could tell she would die young. We sat high up, halfway to heaven in the gods, yet she half blinded me. And my father, still alive (oh, so long ago) took hold of my sticky little hand, to comfort me, in the last act, yet all I heard was the glory of her voice.

Kym Hepworth, his first wife: she burned with white-hot passion

Married three times within my own brief lifetime to three different graces, now, as if to demonstrate the eclecticism of his taste, he had invited me to join this gallery of beautiful women, I, the poor widow's child with my mouse-colored hair that still bore the kinks of the plaits from which it had so recently been freed, my bony hips, my nervous, pianist's fingers.

Kym Hepworth, my bony hips, my nervous fingers

He was rich as Croesus. The night before our wedding--a simple affair, at the Mairie, because his countess was so recently gone--he took my mother and me, curious coincidence, to see Tristan. And do you know, my heart swelled and ached so during the Liebestod that I thought I must truly love him. Yes. I did. On his arm, all eyes were upon me. The whispering crowd in the foyer parted like the Red Sea to let us through. My skin crisped at his touch.

How my circumstances had changed since the first time I heard those voluptuous chords that carry such a charge of deathly passion in them! Now we sat in a loge, in red velvet armchairs, and a braided, bewigged flunky brought us a silver bucket of iced champagne in the interval. The froth spilled over the rim of my glass and drenched my hands. I thought: My cup runneth over. And I had on a Poiret dress. He had prevailed upon my reluctant mother to let him buy my trousseau; what would I have gone to him in, otherwise? Twice-darned underwear, faded gingham, serge skirts, hand-me-downs. So, for the opera, I wore a sinuous shift of white muslin tied with a silk string under the breasts. And everyone stared at me. And at his wedding gift.

Kym Hepworth, what would I have gone to him in?

His wedding gift, clasped round my throat. A choker of rubies, two inches wide, like an extraordinarily precious slit throat.

Kym Hepworth / detail, Demon Lover / mixed media / 28 x 20 1/8 x 2 in. / 2004

After the Terror, in the early days of the Directory, the aristos who'd escaped the guillotine had an ironic fad of tying a red ribbon round their necks at just the point where the blade would have sliced it through, a red ribbon like the memory of a wound. And his grandmother, taken with the notion, had her ribbon made up in rubies; such a gesture of luxurious defiance! That night at the opera comes back to me even now . . . the white dress; the frail child within it; and the flashing crimson jewels round her throat, bright as arterial blood.

Kym Hepworth / detail, Briar Rose / mixed media / 28 ¼ x 21 7/8 x 6 in. / 2005-6




I saw him watching me in the gilded mirrors with the assessing eye of a connoisseur inspecting horseflesh, or even of a housewife in the market, inspecting cuts on the slab. I'd never seen, or else had never acknowledged, that regard of his before, the sheer carnal avarice of it; and it was strangely magnified by the monocle lodged in his left eye. When I saw him look at me with lust, I dropped my eyes, but in glancing away from him, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. And I saw myself, suddenly, as he saw me, my pale face, the way the muscles in my neck stuck out like thin wire. I saw how much that cruel necklace became me. And for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption that took my breath away.

The next day, we were married."

Kym Hepworth, the next day we were married


Kym Hepworth / detail, to part no more / mixed media / 73 x 27 x 13 1/3 in. / 2009

(excerpt from The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter from the anthology Mistresses of the Dark: 25 Macabre Tales by Master Storytellers, selected by Stefan Dziemianowicz et al., published by Barnes & Noble, Inc., New York, © 1998)


Wilco - Shot in the Arm

Clara Stealey's Diary - February 17, 1910

"Feb 17 - '10

Grand orchestra practice this afternoon. Didn't get through until almost 6:00. Stayed down to Le's for supper then we went to the show."

found photograph (front)

found photograph (back: "For Elena(?) to remember the day she went to the movies with cousin Ruth.")

page from a scrapbook following the film career of actress Mary Pickford


R.E.M. - Electrolite

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Victorian Mourning Etiquette: appearance matters - a lot

carte de visite showing a woman dressed in first-stage mourning, with bands of crape at her hem and sleeves, c. 1860, Maureen DeLorme's collection
(photo source: Mourning Art & Jewelry by Maureen DeLorme, published by Schiffer Publishing Ltd., Atglen, PA © 2004)


footage of Queen Victoria's funeral

Below is an article, The Proper Observance of Mourning, written by Anne Rittenhouse. It was published in the October, 1908 issue of The Delineator, a popular women's fashion magazine. This article appeared under the magazine's Department of Etiquette section and it details the proper clothing and jewelry to be worn by a widow and daughter during the different stages of mourning. Click on the images and take a look. Sorry about the missing square of text on the second page (a victim to Robin's collage).



"It was an etiquette that was absolutely essential and you had to do it absolutely right. You had to go through all the stages of it or you showed you just weren't a proper woman. You certainly showed that you weren't a respectable woman and since middle-class Victorian society was all about respectability and conformity, that's what this is all about."
- quote source: Professor Lou Taylor speaking about women's mourning attire during the Victorian era, from the informative and engaging video clip below:



and on a sillier note:


(nice stems, guy. work it)

Friday, January 22, 2010

to part no more: mourning art imagery and symbolism

The saga continues... You may recall from the previous post that birds and images of the bride and groom are traditional decorative motifs for wimpels. This pin, my favorite piece of jewelry, is a source of inspiration for to part no more:

nineteenth century brooch

However, I envisioned a few changes. Instead of a love note being borne through the air by two lovebirds, I pictured something more like mourning doves delivering a mourning card to an unlucky recipient.

detail, to part no more, (wedding portrait with hummingbird)

How peculiar... the hummingbird is positioned directly over the groom.

detail, to part no more (hummingbird with red thread tied around it's throat)

Here the hummingbird symbolizes the ephemeral. It is perched upon the frame and ready to take flight like a winged soul.

detail, to part no more, (hummingbird as it appears in the installation with wedding veil and topper)

My work usually has a literary source of inspiration, and this is true for to part no more. The assemblage was inspired by Henrik Ibsen's (1828-1906) play, A Doll's House (1879). This passage is near the end of the play when Nora (a.k.a. my sweet little skylark) announces to her husband, Torvald Helmer, that she is leaving him.

"Hel. To desert your home, your husband and your children! And you don't consider what people will say!
Nora. I cannot consider that at all. I only know that it is necessary for me.
Hel. It's shocking. This is how you would neglect your most sacred duties.
Nora. What do you consider my most sacred duties?
Hel. Do I need to tell you that? Are they not your duties to your husband and your children?
Nora. I have other duties just as sacred.
Hel. That you have not. What duties could those be?
Nora. Duties to myself.
Hel. Before all else you are a wife and a mother.
Nora. I don't believe that any longer. I believe that before all else I am a reasonable human being just as you are - or, at all events, that I must try and become one. I know quite well, Torvald, that most people would think you right and that views of that kind are to be found in books; but I can no longer content myself with what most people say or with what is found in books. I must think over things for myself and get to understand them.
Hel. Can you understand your place in your own home? Have you not a reliable guide in such matters as that?---have you no religion?
Nora. I am afraid, Torvald, I do not exactly know what religion is.
Hel. What are you saying?
Nora. I know nothing but what the clergyman said when I went to be confirmed. He told us that religion was this and that and the other. When I am away from all this and am alone I will look into that matter too. I will see if what the clergyman said is true, or at all events if it is true for me."

detail, to part no more (birdcage/house and pedestal)

This detail shows the lock on the birdcage/house. In fairy tales, the lock and key together symbolize sexual intercourse, while apart they are often seen as male and female parts. Also, the bird in the cage was a popular Victorian sexual metaphor. In the painting below by Millais, the birdcage (upper right corner) foretells the girl's impending sexual awakening and loss of innocence. (for more information, click here)

John Everett Millais, Waking, 1865, oil on canvas, Tate Britain

I also wanted to use the lock and bars to convey the sense that the "family" inside are trapped inside a domestic prison.


detail, to part no more, (interior birdcage/house as it appears in the installation)

I adhered rice to the floor of the birdcage. The rice references the tradition of throwing rice at a newly married couple and it symbolizes abundance, fertility and prosperity.

detail, to part no more (bride/mourning dove)

detail, to part no more (child/cupped hands/nest, egg)

detail, to part no more (groom/mourning dove)

I used the mourning doves and egg as substitutes for the future family. The legs of the mourning doves are banded with gold wedding bands.

Doves frequently appear in mourning art and symbolize the Holy Spirit or the soul. They are associated with mourning, or symbolize the experience of mourning, because their call - the low, soft cooing - gave the impression to listeners that the dove was lamenting or mourning.

Kym Hepworth, descending dove on a gravestone

Kym Hepworth, dove on a child's gravestone

Kym Hepworth, detail of dove on gravestone

The bride/mourning dove is positioned next to the child/egg and watches over it protectively. The groom/mourning dove is positioned with it's back to the viewer and it's head gazing outside the cage. The cupped hands/bird's nest/egg represents the future child that will result from the union of the bride and groom. I wanted this element to have the feeling of something very fragile and precious being protected, like an offering. A small light is installed in the birdcage and hidden from view behind the cupped hands. The soft glow suggests the reverence of a new life, but .... the egg is pyrite or fool's gold. Perhaps some context is needed. From what information I could find (i.e. don't quote me on this), the average 19th century woman had 7 or 8 children and...

"Life spans were still quite short in the first three-quarters of the 19th century, with the average age of early Victorians at death being forty to forty-five... Historians have estimated childhood deaths at between one-fifth and one-third of all children under the age of ten during the 18th and 19th centuries, with regional epidemics experiencing childhood death rates as high as fifty percent."
(source for quote: Mourning Art & Jewelry by Maureen DeLorme, published by Schiffer Publishing Ltd., Atglen, PA ©2004)

As you know, the title of the exhibition is Wimpel! Wrapped Wishes and traditionally, wimpels were made from the cloth used to swaddle a baby boy during the Jewish covenantal ceremony of circumcision. Somehow, however loose an interpretation, I wanted to incorporate wrapping into the assemblage.

detail, to part no more (groom)

I did this by layering cheese cloth between the wedding photograph and the glass that covers it.

Kym Hepworth, to part no more, mixed media, 73 x 27 x 13 1/3 in., 2009

The wedding veils also wrap and enclose the wedding portrait, birdcage/house and pedestal. For me, both suggest a winding sheet, a sheet for wrapping a corpse, or a shroud.

detail, to part no more (beadwork on wedding veil)

Above, a subtle mourning motif - crystal teardrop beads on the outer wedding veil and on the bride and groom's wimpels.

detail, to part no more (bride's wimpel)

detail, to part no more (groom's wimpel)

And these? DIY. Sometimes you just have to make stuff up or create your own imagery. There are many tree, flower and plant mourning symbols, but I haven't come across a general one for falling or fallen leaves. These are painted leaf skeletons and I placed them on the wimpels as if they were falling to the ground, alluding to the weeping willow motif and echoing a teardrop shape.


The Beach Boys - Wouldn't it be Nice

Thursday, January 21, 2010

to part no more: marriage and mourning

I recently posted about the invitational exhibition Wimpel! Wrapped Wishes at the Philadelphia Museum of Jewish Art. One of my mixed media assemblages, to part no more, is included in the show. Before writing about my work, I think it would be helpful to share with you some background information about the exhibition, and in doing so, I will quote generously from the PMJA website. First things first - what is a wimpel, you may well wonder? (try saying that seven times fast)

"A wimpel is a long, narrow sash—typically seven inches high and at least seven feet long—most often made in linen and used to bind the scrolls of the Torah. Traditionally, wimpels were made from the cloth used to swaddle a baby boy during the Jewish covenantal ceremony of circumcision... After the ceremony, the cloth was cleaned and cut into strips that were sewn together to make the sash, which then was decorated with elaborate needlework or paint... Traditional decorative motifs for wimpels included birds and other animals, images of bride and groom, and the Torah scroll.

...In the eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries (the period to which most surviving wimpels date), completed wimpels were stored at the local synagogue, thereby serving as a census of the congregation. An individual boy’s wimpel was used to bind the Torah scroll during his bar mitzvah ceremony (which marks the coming of age in Jewish religious life) at age 13. The wimpel was also incorporated into the chuppah used during Jewish marriage ceremonies. In this way, the wimpel followed the individual for whom it was made through three life-cycle events: birth, coming of age, and marriage (with the implication that this marriage will produce children, and the cycle will begin anew). Wimpels were material representations of a family’s hopes and dreams for their child, the new life they have brought into the world, a life bound to the study of Torah, ethical behavior, and the continuation of the Jewish community."
Okay. Now what is the concept of the show?

"The artists contributing to Wimpel! Wrapped Wishes were asked to “explore the wimpel, interpret it, create metaphors, comment, celebrate, critique, cross cultures, imagine, translate—to make it yours". Among the subjects suggested by the wimple are identity; core sensibilities, values, and world views, and how they are expressed and lived; parenting; gender; marriage and more. We hope this will be an exhibition about the future: what do we wish for today’s children? How do we express our hopes and dreams for the next generation?"
(source for quotes: Matthew Singer, PMJA Curator and Organizer of Wimpel!Wrapped Wishes Exhibit.)

My first thought about the show was: "Why in the world would they want to include my work?" Darned if I know. I was excited to participate in the exhibit, but, initially, I leaned more toward opting out. The main obstacle was "making the wimpel mine" and relating my work, a cocktail of contemporary mourning art with a generous measure of feminism and Dark Romanticism - shaken - not stirred, to the overall optimistic, forward-looking tone of the exhibition. Also, I've shown my work in a religious environment before and, bad pun intended, it wasn't a match made in heaven. Oh yeah - one more thing - it's minor really: I did NOT want to hand bead a piece of material that measured 7 feet by 7 inches. In the end, I found a way to connect to the theme and concept of the show by focusing on the use of the wimpel as part of the wedding canopy used during the marriage ceremony.

Kym Hepworth, to part no more, mixed media, 73 x 27 x 13 1/3 in., 2009


Here's my object statement for the show:

I chose to focus on the use of the wimpel as part of the marriage ceremony and its embedded concepts of union, fertility, and endlessly repeating life cycles. to part no more explores both positive and negative aspects of marriage, family, gender roles, and domesticity. Here, the house/birdcage motif represents continuity, security, and hope for the future. However, there are cracks in this foundation and the overall stability of the structure is threatened by the tension of entrapment and anxiety of abandonment.
Before going any further, I'd like to point out that this is an artwork and my art is not autobiographical. When viewed outside the context of art, I see marriage, family and children in a positive light. The couple in the wedding photograph are not related to me. And I loves my sweetie. So then, what's the connection between marriage, family and mourning? After all, a wedding ceremony is a celebratory event. Why associate it with lament and grieving? Take a look at the bride and groom in the wedding portrait (ignore the white shape on the groom's lips - it's light reflected off of the glass) :

detail of wedding photograph

When was this photograph taken? During the Victorian era (1837-1901)? Or slightly later during the Edwardian era (1901-1910)? Unfortunately, the photograph isn't dated and I'm not an expert in the history of fashion so I can't tell you the exact date by studying their clothing. However, this photograph was definitely taken before 1920 when the 19th Amendment was ratified and women were allowed the right to vote in the United States. Barbara Goldsmith, a Social Historian, has described the status of women's rights in America during the mid 19th century as follows:

"This was an age in which men were free to treat women with the same detached cruelty as they did their slaves. For women, regardless of class, marriage meant the surrender of every right to property and person. A woman's wages were given directly to her husband. If she sought a divorce her husband was legally entitled to sole custody of the children. Women had no legal rights to the disposition of their personal possessions upon death. Women could not testify in court or serve on a jury and were barred from universities, law schools, and medical schools. Women could not vote.

No laws protected a woman from physical abuse at the hands of her husband or father unless such abuse resulted in death, though a few states stipulated the size of the instruments that might be used to inflict punishment. One judge upheld the right of a husband to beat his wife, writing that to do otherwise would "disrupt domestic harmony." A wife's body was to be used at her husband's will; she could not deny him sexual access. If she ran away, the law of the nation supported her recapture and return. The United States followed Sir William Blackstone, the authority on English common law, who held that "the husband and wife are one, and that one is the husband."
And here's a quote from Elizabeth Cady Stanton (1815-1902), calling for a revision of the divorce laws on behalf of the National Woman's Suffrage Association:

"Marriage today is in no way viewed as an equal partnership, intended for the equal advantage and happiness of both parties. Nearly every man feels that his wife is his property, whose first duty, under all circumstances, is to gratify his passions, without the least reference to her own health and happiness, or the welfare of their offspring; and so enfeebled is woman's judgment and moral sense from long abuse that she believes so too and quotes from the Bible to prove her own degradation."
(source for quotes: Other Powers: The Age of Suffrage, Spiritualism, and the Scandalous Victoria Woodhull by Barbara Goldsmith, published by HarperPerennial, New York, NY, © 1998, 1999.)

detail, to part no more (bride)

The wimpel has been incorporated into ceremonies marking three life-cycle events - birth, coming of age, and marriage. That excludes death... and my work explores mourning and loss... what to do? When I first conceived the idea for the work, I knew that I would include mourning art imagery, but I didn't want that imagery to be the primary or dominant focus. The image of the bride suggested to me an apparition, specifically the White Lady or The Lady in White. According to Wikipedia ...

"the White Lady is a type of female ghost purported to appear in many rural areas, and who is supposed to have died or suffered trauma in life. White Lady legends are found around the world. Common to many of them is the theme of losing or being betrayed by a husband or fiancé. They are often associated with an individual family line, as a harbinger of death. When one of these ghosts is seen it indicates that someone in the family is going to die, similar to a banshee.

Generally, the aspects of this phenomena are that the ghost is female, dressed in late era Victorian garb, seen driving along a rural road, and associated with some local legend of tragedy."

So my association of ideas went something like this: bride - virgin - white - ghost - White Lady -death - haunted - frequented - haunted by what? - the past - know your history or be doomed to repeat it - repetition - life-cycles - marriage - birth - marriage - birth - marriage?

Last night she came to me,
My dead love came in
So softly she came
That her feet made no din
As she laid her hand on me
And this she did say
It will not be long, love,
'Til our wedding day

- lyrics to She Moved Through the Fair

To be continued...

Wimpel Wrapped Wishes at the PMJA



Wimpel! Wrapped Wishes is on exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Jewish Art through February 21, 2010. It features work by Polly Apfelbaum, P. Timothy Gierschick II, Daniel Heyman, Tristin Lowe, Kathryn Pannepacker, Lance Pawling, Alexander Stadler, Leslie Sudock, Jane Trigere, Estelle Kessler Yarinsky and me. The exhibition was organized by Matthew Singer and Wendi Furman.

Click here to read a review and, if you're in Philadelphia, stop by and see the show!

Clara Stealey's Diary - February 16, 1910

"Feb 16 - '10

Went up to the rink to-night. Just had a dandy time. Came back at 10:00 though."

found photographs




The Dandy Warhols - Bohemian Like You - WOO!


Tamara de Lempicka (1898 - 1980) - strike a pose

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

William Edmondson (c. 1870 - 1951) sculptor

"I was out in my driveway with some old pieces of stone when I heard a voice telling me to pick up my tools and start to work on a tombstone. I looked up in the sky and right there in the noon daylight, He hung a tombstone out for me to make"
- William Edmondson

William Edmondson by Louise Dahl-Wolfe, gelatin silverprint, Cheekwood Museum of Art, Nashville, TN.

William Edmondson was born in Davidson County, Tennessee c.1874. By 1890, he had moved to Nashville, where he lived and worked on 14th Avenue South. In his late fifties, he began carving tombstones for two African-American cemeteries, Mount Ararat and Greenwood.

"Funerary practices had long provided a traditional outlet for southern black culture, and Edmondson first emerged as an artist within this framework. A devoted member of the United Primitive Baptist Church, Edmondson often credited his artistic energy and purpose to divine vision. His earliest efforts were gravestones, sometimes composed of several stacked geometric elements, sometimes also incorporating bird or animal forms. From this traditional context, Edmondson's carvings soon showed the influence of popular imagery in lambs, doves, and other forms. He expanded his repertory to include preachers, women, famous figures, and creatures of his imagination." (quote source: The Tennessee Encyclopedia of History and Culture)

William Edmondson's Sculpture Yard by Edward Weston, Nashville, 1941, gelatin silverprint, © 1981 Center for Creative Photography, Arizona Board of Regents



William Edmondson, Untitled (Three Doves), c. 1935-1940, Limestone, 7 1/4 x 10 1/4 x 6"
(photo source: Self-Taught Artists of the 20th Century: An American Anthology, Museum of American Folk Art, New York © 1998)

William Edmondson, Mermaid, Limestone (photo by Fred Giampietro)

William Edmondson, Rabbit, Limestone (photo by Rusty Freeman)

William Edmondson, Mary and Martha, 1930s, Limestone, 13 7/8 x 16 3/4 x 5 1/4"
(photo source: Religious Folk Art in America: Reflections of Faith by C. Kurt Dewhurst et al., E.P. Dutton, Inc., New York © 1983)

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Clara Stealey's Diary - February 15, 1910

"Feb 15 -

Has been thawing all day. Am going to the show with Miss S. and Clint."

found photograph

found photograph




Aquio Nishida (1946-2009) automata artist