On the surface, Tell the Wolves I’m Home, is about June Elbus, a young girl whose favorite uncle dies of AIDS in 1987. It’s the early days, when misinformation, fear, and hate rule the day. With a 2012 publication date (and a 2015 reading) I read of June’s experience with a perspective that time, distance and education afford.
Grace has a problem, well several problems to be exact. She’s a liar and she can’t stop lying not only to herself but also to the people with whom she surrounds herself. She’s a thief but again doesn’t see herself as one, at least not at first. She can never be normal, not after what she has put everyone else through. And she is terrified that two men who are about to be set free on parole for robbing a historic mansion back in Garland, Tennessee are going to find her.
Camille Claudel is a woman most women cannot stand – she’s arrogant, loud-mouthed and pretentious. She always has an opinion, the right one, and she’s never afraid to share it. If you think these characteristics annoying and rude in today’s society, imagine its late 19th century Paris where men rule society and women are just prizes on their arms. Predictably, Claudel doesn’t win friends in Heather Webb’s Rodin’s Lover, a fictionalized account of the real-life affair of Claudel and Auguste Rodin.
I've been a fan of Amanda Palmer, her music and her personality, for a while now. I admire how open, honest, brash, and brave she is.
This is the story of Paul Rosenberg, one of pre-World War II France’s most influential and knowledgeable art dealers, as told by his granddaughter, Anne Sinclair. Rosenberg was hailed as a pioneer in the world of modern art, exhibiting artists such as Picasso, Matisse, Braque and Leger at his Paris gallery. With the German occupation of France in 1942, Rosenberg, as a Jew, was forced to flee France, leaving his artwork behind to be confiscated by the Nazis.
I am in love with this book. I never intended to even read it . . . just use the index and pick and choose certain elements, and browse the pretty pictures. It is so lovely I read it cover to cover. And I want to do it again.
The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories: Volume I is a creative, charming compilation of 1-5 sentence stories, poems, and artwork. The dainty book features 67 of the more than 8500 contributions originally submitted for the volume. Some made me laugh, others made me pause and reflect, and I kept flipping back to certain illustrations just to savor them a little longer. My favorite tiny story:
If you're anything like me, you've spent too much time thinking, "I want to be a writer/artist/musician/craftsperson," and not enough time thinking, "I am a writer/artist/musician/craftsperson." Maybe you spend time writing, drawing, painting, playing music, knitting, doing woodwork, making collages, but, because you aren't doing it full-time or professionally, because you think what you've created isn't wildly original and brilliant, you think of yourself as someone who "wants to be" instead of someone who is an artist. Which is pretty silly, because all creative types, even the m
“And now go, and make interesting amazing glorious fantastic mistakes. Break rules. Leave the world more interesting for your being here. Make good art.” How can you not feel a little inspired and empowered after hearing that? These are the compelling closing lines of Neil Gaiman’s May 2012 commencement speech delivered to the graduates of Philadelphia’s University of the Arts. In Make Good Art, his words are creatively set to page by graphic designer Chip Kidd.
You may remember Sally Mann from a book of photographs published in the 1990s. The book includes a number of photographs of Mann’s children hanging out, without clothing, near the family’s cabin beside a lake. The photographs were hailed by art critics as a tremendous achievement while criticized by many, many others because they put her children on display.