arthipstory

So many feels.

Hair goals.

Shoulder goals.

Billowed sleeve goals.

Four versions of Edvard Munch’s The Scream exist (they’re actually a set from a series called The Frieze of Life). This particular Scream is the only one in a private collection.

Can you even imagine what this guy sounds like?! “Oh yeah, you know, just, uh, The Scream here, hanging out in my front parlor.” Yeesh, what a chump.

Sotheby’s lists the work as sold in 2012 for 119,922,500 USD. But THEN it says: (Hammer Price with Buyer’s Premium) next to the price tag.

If there is a more romantic parenthetical, I don’t even wanna know.

How absolutely stunning is this dress?

Do we call this an installation? It’s gorgeous.

Israeli artist Sigalit Landau submerges a gown in the Dead Sea for two years. Photos from its underwater adventures here.

Rupert Bunny’s leisurely women were renowned by various Salon critics, but I’m more interested in making this bed scene my entire weekend.

Henriette de Verninac was Eugene Delacroix’s older sister. Eighteen years his senior, Henriette had to take care of him after their mother died.

First of all, being the oldest is tough. But then, after both her parents died, the Delacroix family went into major debt thanks to their attorney who squirreled away most of the money. When I say most, they went from being worth a million today to being several million in debt.*

Dude.

Good thing Jacques-Louis David painted her before she went all broke ‘n stuff.

*Note: I’m actual rubbish at determining inflation; I usually just text my dad “How much would 800,000 francs in 1815 be worth today?” and he responds with a sensational number. I consistently applaud his intelligence.

TFW you receive an email about bringing significant others to a work function, and reply all with: “Does my dog count?”