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In a better world we would all be thronging the doors of the Newark Museum; in the best of worlds Ulysses Grant Dietz would be there to meet us, taking us through the galleries with fellow curators Christa Clarke and Katherine Anne Paul
Precisely because photography is thought to be the most objective of all mediums, it acquires over the course of years, and seemingly in spite of itself, a haunted quality that no other product of visual culture can claim to the same degree.
With a boost from Broadway, the caretakers of Hamilton Grange cast new light on the charms of Alexander Hamilton's once bucolic home.
There was an air of confident renewal at this year’s Biennale des Antiquaires, the grand and sophisticated Paris showcase for art, antiques, jewelry, and antiquities which, despite its name, will become an annual event next year under a new name to be announced in October.
John Singer Sargent’s Mrs. Carl Meyer and Her Children, a dazzling display of fin-desiècle opulence and bravura painting, is the focus of a dossier exhibition this fall at New York’s Jewish Museum.
This fall the Philadelphia Museum of Art presents two exhibitions about art and artistry that upended the cultural apple cart—albeit in vastly different times, places, ways, and contexts.
The Magazine ANTIQUES really covers a lot of ground. Hat tip to Crozier Fine Arts, Inc.
"Idleness opens up for any one who has eyes to see and a mind to dream a playground of infinite variety," wrote novelist Arthur Pier in 1904 for the magazine Atlantic Monthly.1 William Merritt Chase had eyes to see the liberating benefits of idleness, and he found motifs of infinite variety in America's playgrounds.
Lately I’ve noticed that fewer and fewer of the e-mails I receive begin with a full salutation. Most notes these days open merely “Greg” or “Gregory.” The name isn’t preceded by “Dear,” or “Greetings,” or “Hello,” not even a “Hi” or a “Hey.” Maybe the brisk efficiency of digital communication is to blame. Or perhaps it’s an effect of inequality: in tightfisted times, with each of us protecting his or her own withered patch of prosperity, unconsciously we have forgotten about simple courtesy. Whatever the reason for the change, I miss that small gesture of civility represented by the word “Dear,” which, after all, costs nothing more than a few keystrokes.