Is it spring yet? I’m just wanting to gallivant in extravagant dresses with beautiful (if androgynous), bouquet-holding individuals. With a parasol. Always a parasol.
Monet’s partner Camille posed as all the figures. Way to get creative with the red hair, Claude! That bun is surely something.
Well, I’m just going to hope and pray that the view outside my window looks like this tomorrow morning. Because I’ll tell you what — I’m just not ready for the weekend to be over. I’m just not.
Rose lighting, sheer sleeves, a total look of disinterest? I am all about this, but I would definitely be drinking from that decanter when that schmo’s talkin’ to the wall.
Does everyone’s Saturday brunch look this jumbled, or is just this hangover?
Guys, lighten up! It’s almost Friday! I don’t know about you, but I mean, I had a DAY OFF MONDAY and it still feels like a full blown work week! YEESH!
On a side note, Grant Wood painted American Gothic in a contest hosted by the Art Institute of Chicago in 1930. The man won third place, a cash prize of $300, and in the process, ticked off a whole bunch of Iowans. Wood said the work was an act of appreciation, saying, “I had to go to France to appreciate Iowa.”
Uh, sure. Kinda like how I appreciate my savings account by blowing it on Anthropologie sales.
I can’t speak for anyone else, but my New Year’s resolutions are totally biting the dust. I told myself that I’d work on swearing less, but…well, if you’re seeing me stuck in traffic, parallel parking, or experiencing anything generally exciting, you’ll know it’s not going well. And I mean, not going well at all.
So instead, I’ll resolve to do something I already do really well, which is be super artistic and creative and color more. I mean, I make to-do lists of things of I’ve already done, so this shouldn’t really be that surprising. To help you join me, I have a list of some adult coloring books that you can help yourself to here, here, and here.
Sometimes art is prepping for football, whether that’s making gluten-free cornbread for your chili, or stitching up your fellow ginger’s jersey. Whatever it may be, I hope you plan to wear those victory curls and saddle shoes. Because I definitely do.
One of my favorite, I mean favorite, things to know is Paul Gauguin died alone from syphilis. Like, BOOM!, karma exists.
Turns out, some CLOWN wants to smash my joy in this knowledge. Four teeth surfaced during archaeological dig more than a decade ago, and were quickly attributed to be that of a European male. Here’s the kicker: They were buried in a well behind the site of Gauguin’s Maori-style hut, which he called “La maison du jouir”, or House of Pleasure. OY.
So, back to this clown researcher! Apparently, he or she didn’t find any traces of mercury which ALLEGEDLY means Gauguin didn’t have syphilis. Cool. Let me guess: this is when you tell me Santa isn’t real.
But here’s the kicker, part 2: An art historian gave the teeth back to the mayor of Gauguin’s final home, Atuona, at OF ALL PLACES, on board the PAUL GAUGUIN cruise ship!
The Mona Lisa was stolen from the Louvre in 1911. Right off the wall. Some guy named Vincenzo Peruggia hid it in a closet, then walked off with it under his smock. Two years later, he wrote a letter to the director of Florence’s Uffizi Gallery saying he had the painting. He signed the letter “Leonardo.” He didn’t want France to be celebrated for housing an Italian work.
I guess I feel that way about clothes I can’t afford, but you can’t just go around stealing the things you want, Vinny! Look at Winona (don’t worry, girl, Wino Forever).
arthipstory 