“Let’s Eat!” — Robert Crumb

“Scrooge” — Kate Beaton

28.2.86 (1) — Gerhard Richter 

28.2.86 (1), 1986 by Gerhard Richter (b. 1932)

Four Hours — Paul Fenniak

Four Hours, 2020 by Paul Fenniak (b. 1965)

Florida Panther — George Boorujy

Florida Panther, 2020 by George Boorujy

Revolt — John Nash

Revolt, 1969 by John Nash (1893-1977)

Reverb — Mark Tansey

Reverb, 2017 by Mark Tansey (b. 1949)

The Flautist — Remedios Varo

The Flautist, 1948 by Remedios Varo (1908-1963)

If Nancy Knew What Wearing Green and Yellow on Thursday Meant — Joe Brainard

If Nancy Knew What Wearing Green and Yellow on Thursday Meant, 1972 by Joe Brainard (1942– 1994) 

Illustration from The Holy Terrors — Jean Cocteau

Illustration from The Holy Terrors, c. 1929 by Jean Cocteau (1889–1963)

Goggled Head — Elisabeth Frink

Goggled Head, 1973 by Elisabeth Frink (1930-1993)

Baudelaire kept running from pain | Kathy Acker

Posted in Art

The Fox Cavern — Yan Pei–Ming

The Fox Cavern, 2020 by Yan Pei–Ming (b. 1960)

“After Some Lines of Goethe” — William H. Gass

Posted in Art

Hamlet — John Archibald Austen

Illustration for Shakespeare’s Hamlet, 1922 by John Archibald Austen (1886-1948)

“Early Cinema” — Elizabeth Alexander

“Early Cinema”

by

Elizabeth Alexander


According to Mister Hedges, the custodian
who called upon their parents
after young Otwiner and young Julia
were spotted at the matinee
of Rudolph Valentino in The Sheik
at the segregated Knickerbocker Theater
in the uncommon Washington December
of 1922, “Your young ladies
were misrepresenting themselves today,”
meaning, of course, that they were passing.
After coffee and no cake were finished
and Mister Hedges had buttoned his coat
against the strange evening chill,
choice words were had with Otwiner and Julia,
shame upon the family, shame upon the race.

How they’d longed to see Rudolph Valentino,
who was swarthy like a Negro, like the finest Negro man.
In The Sheik, they’d heard, he was turbaned,
whisked damsels away in a desert cloud.
They’d heard this from Lucille and Ella
who’d put on their fine frocks and French,
claiming to be “of foreign extraction”
to sneak into the Knickerbocker Theater
past the usher who knew their parents
but did not know them.
They’d heard this from Mignon and Doris
who’d painted carmine bindis on their foreheads
braided their black hair tight down the back,
and huffed, “We’ll have to take this up with the Embassy”
to the squinting ticket taker.
Otwiner and Julia were tired of Oscar Michaux,
tired of church, tired of responsibility,
rectitude, posture, grooming, modulation,
tired of homilies each way they turned,
tired of colored right and wrong.
They wanted to be whisked away.

The morning after Mister Hedges’ visit
the paperboy cried “Extra!” and Papas
shrugged camel’s hair topcoats over pressed pajamas,
and Mamas read aloud at the breakfast table,
“No Colored Killed When Roof Caves In”
at the Knickerbocker Theater
at the evening show
from a surfeit of snow on the roof.
One hundred others dead.

It appeared that God had spoken.
There was no school that day,
no movies for months after.

December — Alex Katz

December, 1974 by Alex Katz (b. 1927)