Sometimes art is a patriotic soccer game.
America is starting Graham Zusi and not Kyle Beckerman against Belgium today.
Translation? USMNT is making my soccer crush decision for me.
Don’t worry, Kyle. It’ll be like a Jack and Rose thing, I’ll never let go.
I’m actually starting to think that Emile Bernard was the classic mean girl boy. Hear me out. In 1888, Vincent van Gogh is endlessly writing letters to Gauguin and Bernard about creating an “artistic community.” I mean, these letters — like this one, to Bernard in June of ’88 — are desperate.
I’m just imagining the two recipients just giggling like high school girls at their French studios at Vincent’s expense.
So, in the classic mean girl (think Mean Girls’ Plastics) fashion, Bernard sends the above self-portrait as a big “Oh, you want to hang out with us? That’s so sweet!”
And you know what van Gogh writes back?!
Van Gogh was enthusiastic about the gift – “a couple of simple tones, a couple of dark lines, but it is [as] elegant as a real, genuine Manet.”
I read “elegant,” but all I’m envisioning are those less-popular girls that fawn over Regina George:
Well, it turns out Emile Bernard is, in fact, our story’s Cady Heron. He’s the one to arrange Vincent van Gogh’s first retrospective after his death in 1890. But where Mean Girls grants Cady the cute boy and the diverse friendships, Bernard loses Gauguin. They sharply split ways because Georges-Albert Aurier named Gauguin the leader of Symbolism and initiator of the Synthetist manner, a title Bernard felt entitled to.
Can’t win ’em all, Emile.
I’m about to connect some weird dots, but GO WITH ME on this. It’s like Chopped: In this post, you must use The Golden Ratio, the Mona Lisa, and Jay Z.
Illustration of golden ratio, obviously.
WOMAN: I have given and shown you everything, with nothing to hide. There you are, Ivy, like the nombre d’or… Jay, how do you say nombre d’or?
JAY: “The golden number.”
Boom, Hov, LOVE IT. Your daughter is sooo perfect, she imitates immaculate proportions! Take that, Iron Chef Guarnaschelli — I am your new Chopped Champion! I’ll be around to collect my 10K this week.
Let my Mallory Ortberg obsession continue…
Read the full article, “Art History: 500 Years of Women Ignoring Men,” here.
“Oh, my God, Tess, don’t encourage him. You’re terrrrrible.”
“No, I’m serious! That was so good! Can you play another one? You’re, like, really good at this.”
“I would love to go out tonight but I’m…I’m dying.” [coughs weakly into handkerchief]
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah. It’s consumption, so.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“I will stay and nurse you.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Hi, sorry, this is a women-only balcony.”
“Women’s balcony, sorry.”
“Male balcony’s over there, this balcony is all-women, sorry!”
Mexico plays today against the Netherlands, so I figured, “What the heck? Let’s post an attractive picture of Diego and Frida!”
Turns out that is much (much!!) easier said than done. Like, IMPOSSIBLE. Frida was also 20 (two zeroooo) years younger than Diego!! DANG! Have we developed a term for a male cougar?
I’m looking into it.
Get a load of this nonsense: Paul Gauguin paints himself as Jean Valjean. Yeah, we’re talking WOLVERINE’S Jean Valjean.
From the Vincent van Gogh Museum (who, sadly, owns the work):
Gauguin compared this fictional hero, a man rejected by society despite his inner power and love, with the misunderstood artists of his own time, including himself.
This painting was also dedicated to Vincent van Gogh. Emile Bernard’s in the background.
I’m starting to realize why it’s called the miserable.
With a week until the Fourth of July, I decided to focus on a major American achievement — the return of overalls the Lincoln Memorial.
Sculptor: David Chester French
Also known for: DuPont Memorial Fountain, John Harvard statue (full oeuvre here).
Memorial, by the numbers:
I overheard a tour guide say, “the story gets happier” when he described Robert Lincoln being able to attend the dedication of the Lincoln Memorial. My footnote for that in my notes? “Haha.”
Sometimes art is a red swimsuit. Gone too soon, Farrah.
Remember that time yesterday when I discovered Mallory Ortberg? Well, I’m about to develop a love for her that is similar to Suri’s Burn Book for Kiernan Shipka. And her posts continue to bring sparkle and hilarity to this domain, so I say, let it shine.
what dead girl
i don’t even know what you mean
this girl was here when we got here
she wanted us to stand on her
yeah that was like all she could talk about
“please stand on me”
so don’t worry it’s very normal what we’re doing here
hey guys hey come on in just come right on in i’m so glad you’re here by yourselves just the two of you
we’re going to have such a good normal time in this cave together
yeah so just drink out of this cup and then something will happen after that i guess
Actually, though, Mallory — you are magic. Guest post ASAP, plz…I’ll send cookies.
Read the rest of her wondrous article, “Normal Moments in Art History with no Murder,” here.
arthipstory 