Pie

 

Lemon-Meringue-3-sm

Lemon meringue pie from daringgourmet.com

from writer and Obama pal Marilynne Robinson in the Paris Review Interviews Vol. 4:

FullSizeRender (11)

FullSizeRender (12)

Merry Christmas, everybody!  Remember to let your kids smoke a cigarette!


Special Snowflakes

IMG_1684

Wandering into a hipster-type boutique in the East Village to buy a present for an Evil Santa/White Elephant type thing during a brief stop in NYC, I heard this song playing:

I really liked this album when it first came out, still do I guess.  From the wiki page for the album:

In an interview with Rolling Stone Magazine, Pecknold admitted that his girlfriend of five years found the stress this album placed on their relationship too much, and ended things. Upon hearing the completed album, she realized that Pecknold’s efforts were worth it, and they tried to work it out. The couple has since split up.

Also:

Added to this, he stated they wanted to record very quickly, saying he wanted to do the “vocal takes in one go, so even if there are fuck-ups, I want them to be on there. I want there to be guitar mistakes. I want there to be not totally flawless vocals. I want to record it and have that kind of cohesive sound. Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, to me, is the best-sounding album because it sounds like there were only six hours in the universe for that album to be recorded in. So I want it to have that feeling.

(Remember now that after reading this for the first time when the album first came out, I went back and gave a good hard listen to Astral Weeks, which I found totally boring even though I’m obsessed with the Van Morrison song “And it Stoned Me”:

Morrison, in 1985, related the song to a quasi-mystical experience he had as a child:

I suppose I was about twelve years old. We used to go to a place called Ballystockart to fish. We stopped in the village on the way up to this place and I went to this little stone house, and there was an old man there with dark weather-beaten skin, and we asked him if he had any water. He gave us some water which he said he’d got from the stream. We drank some and everything seemed to stop for me. Time stood still. For five minutes everything was really quiet and I was in this ‘other dimension’. That’s what the song is about.)

Anyway, we’re talking about snowflakes.  Here are the opening lyrics of the song Helplessness Blues:

I was raised up believing I was somehow unique
Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see
And now after some thinking, I’d say I’d rather be
A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me
But I don’t, I don’t know what that will be
I’ll get back to you someday soon you will see
What a striking and succinct summation of what we might call “the hipster dilemma.”  The same album starts out with these words:
So now I am older than my mother and father
when they had their daughter
now what does that say about me
Now, ain’t that exactly an anxiety that drives sensitive youngish people of “my generation,” what I will crudely call hipsters, crazy?
snowflake

A snowflake, from the wikipedia page “snowflake,” which I am free to use and remix provided I attribute the photographer, Dakota Lynch.

The snowflake is a powerful image.  At what point did the idea that “every snowflake is unique” get taught to every schoolchild in America (or at least snowy America)?  Here is George Will turning the idea of “special snowflakes” on its head, in a piece about the recent fusses at Yale and elsewhere:
On campuses so saturated with progressivism that they celebrate diversity in everything but thought, every day is a snow day: There are perishable snowflakes everywhere. The institutions have brought this on themselves. So, regarding the campuses’ current agonies, schadenfreude is not a guilty pleasure, it is obligatory.
It’s possible Peggy Noonan beat him to it.  Addressing (more or less) young people in a May column about “trigger warnings”:
I notice lately that some members of your generation are being called, derisively, Snowflakes. Are you really a frail, special and delicate little thing that might melt when the heat is on?
Forget the point they’re making about kids today, let’s stick with the metaphor.  There’s something interesting in the fact that snowflakes are wondrous and individual, our symbol for special uniqueness, but also that snowflakes are weak and useless unless heaped in an enormous pile of other snowflakes, completely subsumed as individuals and lost forever into a mass of snow.
IMG_3398

Snow and ice: how are they different?

The song could equally be “I was raised up believing I was somehow unique, a snowflake distinct among snowflakes” etc “but now after some thinking, I’d rather be a snowflake in a huge snow pile melting into individual nothingness but perhaps collective somethingness among other snowflakes.”
IMG_6917
Snowflakes: worth thinking about!  More from wiki:
In 1988, Nancy Knight was documenting snowflakes for the National Center for Atmospheric Research and found two identical snowflakes of the hollow column type.
Was all set to have a laugh at whether this was the best use of Nancy’s time but then found this wonderful obituary of her.  No one who took part in the National Hail Research Experiment will be mocked on this page.
Nancy’s colleagues recall her spirited approach to hunting for hail and other items of interest. “Some of my most hilarious memories of Nancy on field campaigns were driving,” says Karyn Sawyer, the former director of UCP/JOSS. “We’d be rocketing along a dirt road somewhere, and she’d insist that we stop because she had spotted an interesting bird.”
knight_coffeyville

Nancy Knight w/hail


Helytimes Top Ten Albums Of 2015

3) Sturgill Simpson, Metamodern Sounds In Country Music.

Technically came out in 2014.

Ordinarily I hate people’s photos of concerts but look how Sturgill & gang look like a little colored diorama here at the Ace Hotel in Los Angeles:

IMG_0898

2) Fleetwood Mac, Rumours.

Technically came out in 1977.

1) Grimes, Art Angels

Thank you, and please nominate your faves to helphely@gmail.com

In searching for these found this video for Tusk which I suspect will also appeal to Helytimes readership.

 


New Paintings For Barry

president-obama

Reuters pool photo

Why did Obama talk in this weird way, and not sitting at the desk?  I dunno, but it looks like he got some new paintings for the Oval Office to replace Childe Hassam.  I learn they are Josephine Hopper’s, on loan from the Whitney:

president_obama_1120

Official White House Photo by Chuck Kennedy

Says Whitney curator Dana Miller:

How did you feel when you saw the works installed on the Oval Office wall? Does their new context change the way they read?

There was something pretty wonderful about the way the light was streaming into the Oval Office the day we hung the works, in that it mimicked the lighting in Cobb’s Barn. With Hopper it is so much about the quality of light, and I think the early morning light at that moment echoed what we were seeing in the painting and I remember remarking upon that to Barbi Spieler, Head Registrar for the Permanent Collection, who was there as well. For obvious reasons we don’t often see Hopper paintings in natural light at the Museum.

When I saw the official White House photograph taken by Chuck Kennedy of The President standing in front of the two paintings, I thought it looked like a Hopper composition. Hopper’s urban scenes are often of a solitary figure caught in quiet contemplation, and that’s what the photograph captured. The light in the office and the sense of stillness are very Hopper-esque; the sun even seems to be coming into the office at the precise angle of the sun in the painting. And the back of The President recalls the back of the figure in Hopper’s most famous painting, Nighthawks. I’m guessing Chuck Kennedy knew exactly what he was doing. And of course, it was deeply gratifying to see an image of President Obama so intently focused on the paintings.

The paintings are of Cobb’s Barn in South Truro, Mass. — Cape Cod.  Both Hoppers were like obsessed with Cobb’s Barn, here is Edward:

cobbs-barn-and-distand-house

Far as I can tell Cobb’s Barn isn’t there anymore.  Bit of a bummer, maybe they should put up a plaque or something.

Josephine Hopper:

Jo Hopper by Robert Henri

That’s her painted by Robert Henri, who loved to paint babes:

Henri_Robert_Salome

Henri was, by this point, at the heart of the group who argued for the depiction of urban life at its toughest and most exuberant. Conservative tastes were necessarily affronted. About Henri’s Salome of 1909, critic Hughes observed: “Her long legs thrust out with strutting sexual arrogance and glint through the over-brushed back veil. It has far more oomph than hundreds of virginal, genteel muses, painted by American academics. He has given it urgency with slashing brush marks and strong tonal contrasts. He’s learned from Winslow Homer, from Édouard Manet, and from the vulgarity of Frans Hals”.

More Helytimes coverage about the Hoppers.

Now, what painting is in the Oval Office may seem meaningless but I gotta tell ya: I like living a country where the President is expected to have some taste and make some choices about putting some cool art on the wall.

Presidents have different art on the wall, but it means something to them.  George W. Bush made a real point of having a bust of Churchill in there.  Obama allegedly returned it, right?  Ted Cruz definitely tells the whole truth about that?

New president, new art.  We can all find American art we like, that’s a great thing about us.  You can bet in the Reagan days they made choices about the art:

Looks like Reagan has The President’s House up there.

Screen Shot 2015-12-08 at 12.19.19 AM

From the “Artwork” section of the Wiki page on Oval Office:

Most presidents have hung a portrait of George Washington – usually the Rembrandt Peale”Porthole” portrait or the Charles Willson Peale three-quarter-length portrait – over the mantel at the north end of the room. A portrait of Andrew Jackson by Thomas Sully hung in Lyndon Johnson’s office, and in Ronald Reagan’s, George H. W. Bush’s and Bill Clinton’s. A portrait of Abraham Lincoln by George Henry Story hung in George W. Bush’s office, and continues in Barack Obama’s. Three landscapes/cityscapes by minor artistsThe City of Washington from Beyond the Navy Yard by George Cooke, Eastport and Passamaquoddy Bay by Victor de Grailly, and The President’s House, a copy after William Henry Bartlett – have adorned the walls in multiple administrations. The Avenue in the Rain by Childe Hassam and Statue of Liberty by Norman Rockwell flanked the Resolute Desk in Bill Clinton’s office, and do the same in Barack Obama’s.

What a slam!  “minor artists”.  The friggin’ President looks at your painting every day and you’re still minor.  These art world guys are tough on each other, I tell ya.

Anyway.

Reader reaction is encouraging me in a White House kick.  Be sure to weigh in to Helytimes if you know any facts about Oval Office art.  Somebody out there knows what Bartlett had up.


The White House Pool

LBJ

LBJ in the White House pool, from Michael Beschloss Twitter/NARA: https://twitter.com/beschlossdc/status/411277928991707136

There used to be an indoor swimming pool in the West Wing of the White House.   From the White House Museum website:

As the men and women of New York opened copies of the New York Daily News on March 14, 1933, they learned of a campaign to raise money for building the president a swimming pool at the White House. The effort was a way to honor President Franklin Roosevelt, a New York native who suffered from the crippling disease, poliomyelitis. The President often swam at therapy pools at his Hyde Park home in New York or at a center in Warm Springs, Georgia.

The campaign was a success, and the workmen gathered around the pool on June 2, 1933 to listen to President Roosevelt, who spoke from his wheelchair and thanked them for their work. The pool was built inside the west gallery between the White House and the West Wing in place of the old laundry rooms, which were moved to the basement of the mansion. Arched ceilings and high rows of half-mooned windows surrounded the rectangular pool. French doors opened into the Rose Garden. The president’s pool was a modern-day showcase of technology, featuring underwater lighting, sterilizers and the latest gadgets. For several years, he used it multiple times a day. Harry Truman swam in it frequently—with his glasses on.

Pool 2

When his son was in the White House, Joe Kennedy paid French artist Bernard Lamotte to paint a mural of sailing scenes and the harbor of Christiansted, St. Croix, US Virgin Islands:

Christiansted

Christiansted, from Wiki

I cannot find a picture of JFK in the pool.

Pool 3

Here’s what the White House Museum says about the pool in the Kennedy years:

John Kennedy sometimes held swimming races with Cabinet members. He liked the pool so much that he made a habit of stopping by at noon, stripping down for a swim, and padding back to his bedroom for lunch and a nap in nothing but a robe. He did the same at the end of the day, dressing again for dinner. As a result, Chief Usher JB West observed, “John F Kennedy wore three separate suits of clothes every day of his White House life.”

Janet

I believe this was pre-mural?

Here is JFK’s sometime doctor Janet Travell in the pool.

Once Upon A Secret

In her book Once Upon a Secret, Mimi Alford describes the pool as like the center of JFK’s sexual life.  Frequent poolers, in her memory, were two staffers, one from the President’s Secretary’s office and one from the Press Secretary’s office, with the nicknames Fiddle and Faddle:

Screen Shot 2015-12-03 at 1.20.14 PM

Can’t really sort out the origin of this photo. The Daily Mail cites it as being from “Wikipedia”

A lot of stories about JFK get thrown around as true without a lot of investigating into the source.  Who can say now what was happening in the pool?  Caitlin Flanagan reviewed Alford’s book here, her takes are always engaging:

The overheated White House swimming pool, painted in a lurid Caribbean theme (its renovation a kinky father-son gift from Joe to Jack), was, according to a number of respected sources (among them Seymour Hersh and three on-the-record Secret Service agents), the locus of endless lunchtime sex parties. Two young secretaries named Priscilla Wear and Jill Cowen—the now infamous Fiddle and Faddle—often left their desks to splash and skinny-dip with Jack, returning to their desks with wet hair so they could go on with their important work of autographing his photographs and wondering how to type. They, like Mimi, were regularly packed along on official trips, apparently so that the president could always get laid if there was any trouble scaring up local talent. Although neither has ever commented on their relationship with Kennedy, their joint interview for the JFK oral-history project is astonishing for the number of trips they casually allude to having taken with him; they were the sex-doll Zeligs of JFK’s foreign diplomacy, their eager faces just out of frame in Berlin, Rome, Ireland, Costa Rica, Mexico, and Nassau, to say nothing of their extensive domestic work in places like Palm Beach and Hyannis Port.
It’s impossible to think Jackie had no idea that any of this was taking place. Once while giving a Paris Match reporter a tour of the White House, she passed by Fiddle’s desk and remarked—acidly, and in French—“This is the girl who supposedly is sleeping with my husband.”

Say what you will about Nixon, he wasn’t frolicking with secretaries in the pool:

President Richard Nixon arranged for the construction of a press briefing room above the old pool to accommodate the growing demand for television news.

Screen Shot 2015-12-03 at 12.55.18 PM

The old mural is now in the Kennedy Museum & Library in Boston:

mural

The single best picture I can find of the pool shows astronaut Edward White throwing his daughter into it:

press-briefing-room-pool-johnson

It’s from an old National Geographic.  Seven years later White died in the Apollo 1 fire:

Apollo 1

Pool 2

There is still an outdoor pool at the White House.

pool 3

 


IMG_0950

Flipping through an old Life magazineIMG_0951

Elizabeth Hodges of Bratenahl writes in:

IMG_0952

J Tree squad goals:
IMG_0954

Rufus Wainwright’s grandfather writing something really affecting about the presentation of a Congressional Medal of Honor, posthumously, to Milton Olive III who threw himself on a grenade to save his comrades:IMG_0955

IMG_0956

From a special about crash test dummies:
IMG_0957

What kind of man uses Vaseline Hair Tonic?IMG_0959

Tang!IMG_0960

Jackie’s trip to Spain was not without frost-ups:IMG_0961 IMG_0962 IMG_0963 IMG_0964 IMG_0965 IMG_0966 IMG_0967 IMG_0969


Always get a weird vibe

IMG_0907

when I find myself in Mojave, California.

IMG_0908

Although I gotta say everybody in McDonald’s was in a good mood.


Professor McH sends us another good one

Screen Shot 2015-11-21 at 12.38.59 PM

Found here.  There’s a lot to ponder in this one (like: these folks were always just peepin’ on this lady and her Villains?)


Wait, can’t you tell a TON about it from this?

Screen Shot 2015-11-17 at 4.01.33 PM

from The New Yorker.  Like, you definitely at least get the vibe.

Screen Shot 2015-11-17 at 5.51.52 PM


Oh Terry

Terry G

Screen Shot 2015-11-11 at 1.36.35 PM

(source, thanks to reader Molly in NYC for the tip)


Did not know this other definition

A gamergate (/ˈɡæmərˌɡt/) is a mated worker ant that is able to reproduce sexually, i.e. lay fertilized eggs that will develop as females. Gamergates are restricted to taxa where the workers have a functional sperm reservoir (‘spermatheca’). In various species, gamergates reproduce in addition to winged queens (usually upon the death of the original foundress), while in other species the queen caste has been completely replaced by gamergates. In gamergate species, all workers in a colony have similar reproductive potentials, but as a result of physical interactions, a dominance hierarchy is formed and only one or a few top-ranking workers can mate (usually with foreign males) and produce eggs. Subsequently however, aggression is no longer needed as gamergates secrete chemical signals that inform the other workers of their reproductive status in the colony.

ants

Ants are interesting.

The term “gamergate” derives from the Greek words γάμος (gámos) and ἐργάτης (ergátēs) and means “married worker.” It was coined in 1983 by geneticist William L. Brown and was first used in scientific literature by entomologists Christian Peeters and Robin Crewe in a 1984 paper published in Naturwissenschaften. The definition typically found in entomological dictionaries is “mated, egg-laying worker,” and is drawn from the glossary of Bert Hölldobler and E. O. Wilson’s 1990 book, The Ants.


Bad Trip To Mexico

Not sure about Pixar’s new film


Tends to be amusing for English speakers

erhmegarhd

Enjoyed reading this article from Vanity Fair.  The jist of the article is that Ermahgerd Girl was intentionally making comedy when she took this picture.  Does that change the funniness of this?

According to Ari Spool, a New York–based reporter and self-described meme scientist for Know Your Meme, rhotacized speech—that is, speech in which the “R” sound is somehow disfigured—tends to be amusing for English speakers.

But it’s not just about the imagined voice. “[It’s] also the absurdity, rhythm, and timbre of the words,” Spool said. “We call this type of voice-heavy meme writing ‘interior monologue captioning,’ and it’s a common ingredient in a successful image.”

bertmern


People who look kind of alike

Phil Rosenthal

Phil Rosenthal and
David Remnick

David Remnick


Moon

Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.53.47 PMWent through NASA’s new Flickr of the Apollo missions looking for good ones I hadn’t seen before.  Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.53.58 PM

Some very great shades of blue.
Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.53.02 PM

Camping!

Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.54.07 PM
Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.46.24 PM

Mexico!

Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.52.46 PM

Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.46.36 PMEarf

Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.53.13 PMNASA’s foil game is so on pointScreen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.56.53 PMGoodbye spaceman!Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.57.16 PM  Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.56.45 PM

Making movies
Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.57.03 PM

Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.57.42 PM
Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.57.34 PMWish traffic in LA were like this. Screen Shot 2015-10-13 at 1.57.25 PM

 


Kuncho is alive!

A humorous email from my high school:IMG_0289


The word “spa” in Massachusetts

Massachusetts local dialect is all over the Web these days*.  This is a favorite topic of mine.

IMG_9602

A discussion of placemats caused my sister to send the above photo, and sent me looking into the Massachusetts use of the word “spa.”

Best (first) source I found was (of course?) at Village 14, “Newton’s Virtual Village”:

Screen Shot 2015-10-02 at 10.26.01 AM

The word spa comes to us from Spa, Belgium:

Flickr_-_…trialsanderrors_-_Spa,_Belgium,_ca._1895

The greatest Belgian in fiction?  Some people say its Poirot but I say it’s Remy from “Young Indiana Jones Chronicles.”

REmy

For Massachusetts dialect, let me give a shoutout to David Hackett Fischer’s Albion’s Seed: Four British Folkways In America.

albion_s_seed__2_

This guy is a boss.  He tells us that what we think of as the “Boston accent” might have its origin in the dialect of East Anglia:

Also he suggests how Scots-Irish people brought us pig-ribs and fighting and gun-love.

Andrew Jackson

  • see previous Helytimes coverage of the ocean sunfish here

A Reader Writes:

Gaudi

Re: architects whose works sound like their names, how could you forget Gaudi?

Good point!

gaudi 2

Screen Shot 2015-09-30 at 11.11.24 AM

 


Canada

Screen Shot 2015-09-29 at 10.15.54 AM


Wolfe on Status

T Wolfe

Reading this Jefferson Lecture from 2006, delivered by Tom Wolfe:

Within the ranks of the rich, including the “owners of the means of production,” there inevitably developed an inner circle known as Society. Such groups always believed themselves to be graced with “status honor,” as Weber called it. Status honor existed quite apart from such gross matters as raw wealth and power. Family background, education, manners, dress, cultivation, style of life–these, the ineffable things, were what granted you your exalted place in Society.

Military officer corps are rife with inner circles aloof from the official and all-too-political hierarchy of generals, admirals, and the rest. I went to work on a book called The Right Stuff thinking it would be a story of space exploration. In no time at all, I happened upon something far more fascinating. The astronauts were but part of an invisible, and deadly, competitive pyramid within an inner circle of American military fighter pilots and test pilots, and they were by no means at the apex. I characterized this pyramid as a ziggurat, because it consisted of innumerable and ever more deadly steps a fighter pilot had to climb to reach the top. The competition demanded an uncritical willingness to face danger, to face death, not once but daily, if required, not only in combat but also in the routine performance of his duties–without ever showing fear–in behalf of a noble cause, the protection of his nation. There were more ways to die in a routine takeoff of a supersonic jet fighter of the F-series than most mortals could possibly imagine. At the time, a Navy pilot flying for twenty years, an average career span, stood a 23 percent chance of dying in an accident and a 56 percent chance of having to eject at some point, which meant being shot out of the plane like a human rocket by a charge of dynamite under his seat, smashing into what was known as the “wall” of air outside, which could tear the flesh off your face, and descending by parachute. The figures did not include death or ejection in combat, since they were not considered accidental. According to Korean War lore, a Navy fighter pilot began shouting out over the combat radio network, “I’ve got a Mig at zero! A Mig at zero! I’ve got a Mig at zero!” A Mig at zero meant a Soviet supersonic fighter plane was squarely on his tail and could blow him out of the sky at any moment. Another voice, according to legend, broke in and said, “Shut up and die like an aviator.” Such “chatter,” such useless talk on the radio during combat, was forbidden. The term “aviator” was the final, exquisite touch of status sensitivity. Navy pilots always called themselves aviators. Marine and Air Force fliers were merely pilots. The reward for reaching the top of the ziggurat was not money, not power, not even military rank. The reward was status honor, the reputation of being a warrior with ultimate skill and courage–a word, by the way, strictly taboo among the pilots themselves. The same notion of status honor motivates virtually every police and fire fighting force in the world.

Badass.

In the related interview, Wolfe gets going on fashion:

Cole: Why is fashion important? What does it tell us?

Wolfe: Every man and every woman is equally fixated on fashion. Men who would bridle at that suggestion are usually men who want to fit in in whatever milieu they want to be in. They do not want to stand out in any way, shape, or form. That’s just as true in the stands at the stock car races as it might be at Sullivan and Cromwell, the law firm.

Somebody like myself, perhaps, stands out on purpose with just minor variations on the conventional. My suits are conventionally cut. They just happen to be white. The same with shoes, everything else.

I feel it’s to a writer’s advantage, since he sells a mass-produced product called a book, to catch attention any way he can. This is not shared by my fellow writers, you understand. But you’ll notice how few writers are willing to appear on the back of a book with a necktie on. That’s a bohemian fashion that’s supposed to show one way or another you’re thumbing your nose at convention. Then it becomes a convention itself. If I saw one more writer with an open shirt, the wind blowing through his hair, I was going to stop buying books. They’ve calmed down a little bit, but still the tie is anathema.

Ironically, if you read a book such as The Intellectuals on the Road to Class Power, about the arts in Czechoslovakia under a Communist regime, the writers in the Writers’ Union were dressed like businessmen. They were on top. If you were in the Writers’ Union, your books were published automatically, even if no one read them. And I’ve just been reading Huizinga’s The Autumn of the Middle Ages.

Cole: That’s a very great book, I think.

Wolfe: The attention to status detail and dress is absolutely fascinating. I forget the French nobleman who was found guilty of a capital crime, who insisted on arriving in his full regalia–an ermine-trimmed coat and the works–for his beheading. He just wasn’t going to show up looking like a common, vulgar victim. I liked that.

To this day, I think it hasn’t changed. It’s just more covert now. Style is always a window into what a person thinks of his place in the world or what he wants his place to be in the world.

Balzac often would start off chapters with a description of a room and the types of furniture. He might point out that the curtains on the windows were not really damask. They were half cotton. He would give you a whole picture of the inhabitants just through his status details.

And Saint-Beuve, who I guess was the leading French critic of the day, said, if this man Balzac is so obsessed with furniture, why doesn’t he own a shop and spare us these tedious novels. [Laughter]

Tissot, who has become my favorite painter the more of his work that I see, is a great example of that. For a long time, Tissot was written off as a sort of fashionista. He was in love with the look of women’s clothes. But I think now he’s being perceived as a great painter.

Cole: He’s a much more nuanced painter, I think, than people give him credit for.

The Captain and the Mate, 1873 (oil on canvas) by Tissot.

The Captain and the Mate, 1873 (oil on canvas) by Tissot.

Later the interview turns to architecture, and Wolfe gives a shout to Edward Durell Stone’s US Embassy in New Delhi:

new dehli