Happy birthday, John Singer Sargent

Over on Instagram we’re giving a shout out to John Singer Sargent, born 161 years ago today. Kilmurray & Ormond’s lavish book on his work has been in print for 18 years, and remains a perennial favorite. Here it is perched on our courtyard steps, enjoying the unseasonably warm breeze:

 

The remarkable portraits for which John Singer Sargent is most famous are only one aspect of a career that included landscapes, watercolors, figure subjects, and murals. Even within portraiture, his style ranged from bold experiments to studied formality. And the subjects of his paintings were as varied as his styles, including the leaders of fashionable society, rural laborers, city streets, remote mountains, and the front lines of World War I. John Singer Sargent, edited by Elaine Kilmurray and Richard Ormond surveys and evaluates the extraordinary range of Sargent’s work, and reproduces 150 of his paintings in color.

Happy birthday to a man widely considered to be the leading portrait painter of his generation.

 

Happy birthday, Jean-Michel Basquiat

On this day in 1960, the renowned visual artist Jean-Michel Basquiat was born in Brooklyn, where he would go on to become one of the most fascinating figures in the New York art scene. Princeton University Press proud to have published The Notebooks, a facsimile edition that reproduces the pages of eight of Basquiat’s rarely seen working notebooks for the first time.

Basquiat was known early on for his involvement with 1970s New York street art, including the SAMO tag created with Al Diaz, before he developed a successful studio practice indebted to a range of influences, from Neo-Expressionism to African art to jazz. Basquiat’s work explored the interplay between words and images, often touching on culture, race, and class. Of his extraordinary gifts, The New York Times Magazine, which profiled him in a 1985 cover story, wrote, “Not only does he possess a bold sense of color and composition, but, in his best paintings, unlike many of his contemporaries, he maintains a fine balance between seemingly contradictory forces: control and spontaneity, menace and wit, urban imagery and primitivism.”

From 1980 to 1987, Basquiat filled numerous working notebooks with drawings and pictograms of crowns, teepees, and hatch-marked hearts alongside notes, observations, and fragments of poems that reflect his deep interests in comics, street and pop art, and politics. Many of these images and words found their way into his drawings and paintings. Take a peek at some of the pages in this trailer.

Basquiat Notebooks jacketThe Notebooks
Jean-Michel Basquiat

Edited by Larry Warsh

 

An interview with Pamela Schnitter, member of the Book, Jacket & Journal Committee

The Book, Jacket, and Journal Show is a juried design competition, open only to AAUP member publishers. Every fall the call-for-entries is distributed, and in January, the jurors gather in AAUP’s New York offices to examine hundreds of submissions and select the very best examples of book, journal, and cover designs. The Book, Jacket & Journal Committee comprises seven members who are charged with selecting judges for the AAUP Book, Jacket, and Journal Show, soliciting donations of paper and printing for the call for entries, as well as the catalog and the award certificates. The committee members are also responsible for designing the call for entries, the web theme, the catalog, the signage, and the awards certificate itself. Chris Lapinski, Design Coordinator at PUP, interviewed Pamela Schnitter, a designer and member of the Book, Jacket & Journal Committee.

Pam Schnitter

Judges discussing submissions. From left to right: Kimberly Glyder, Henk van Assen, Daphne Geismar, Benjamin Shaykin

 

What inspired you to join the Committee?

I was determined to keep the show vibrant and current, especially in terms of publishing e-books and thinking of additional award categories, such as marketing and web design. It might be too early to implement a straight e-book design category — that seems to be out of our hands currently — but maybe in the future. As the publishing world evolves, I strongly believe there are other categories we need to think about in order to remain relevant and vibrant.

What was your most challenging responsibility?

The most challenging responsibility was also the most rewarding, and that was selecting the jurors. They had to be from outside the AAUP community, though they didn’t necessarily have to be designers. So I had to do a lot of research. I reviewed portfolios and websites, read letters of recommendation. It was very tricky because of the pressure to get the right people.

Did you have any preferences?

I felt that some of the jurors should be teachers because of their experience in assessing other designers’ work and giving good feedback. I also wanted individuals with a cutting edge and inspirational style. As it turned out, all except one were teachers. We tried to select a broad range of individuals from the East Coast and the West Coast, though we ended up with a significant number of jurors from RISD [Rhode Island School of Design]. Most had a background in trade publishing.

Did you notice that trade designers had a different outlook than university press designers?

No, I think the two worlds have really come together.

What was the most gratifying part of your experience?

Working with others in the AAUP community, and particularly with other designers, both within AAUP and outside. Learning from them, sharing new ideas about design — that was especially rewarding. And then seeing how it all came together — it was fun watching the jurors get along so well.

Were there any interesting lessons you learned?

When designers become judges, I realized how important it is to give them space to form their own opinions. I felt they should be unhindered in making the best and most honest assessment of other people’s work.

Do you recommend that others consider joining the committee?

Absolutely. It’s great to have contact with other designers and to share our experiences. It’s also a commitment: the committee requests that you stay on for a few years to learn the responsibilities of being a member and to make the transition easier. That’s something to take into consideration, but it’s worthwhile.

Snapping photos at dinner after panel discussion. From left to right: Daphne Geismar, Benjamin Shaykin, Kimberly Glyder, Henk van Assen

Enemy painting and everyday life: stunning images from Bosch and Bruegel

KournerAt first glance, the works of Hieronymus Bosch and Pieter Bruegel seem to have little to do with each other. Bosch’s work is bizarre, diabolic, and outlandish. Bruegel depicted peasants in their every day life and realistic landscapes. On closer inspection, these two artists had more in common than one would think. They were both exploring the image as enemy; in Bosch’s work, everyday life is a trap set by an enemy of God, while in Bruegal the enemy is a humanly fabricated mask. In Bosch and Bruegel: From Enemy Painting to Everyday Life, Joseph Koerner sets these two masters in conversation with one another. This handsome edition is elegantly written and lavishly illustrated. In advance of its publication, here is a sampling of some of the book’s beautiful images.

 

Affordable Housing in New York: A slideshow of an urban landscape

Bloom LasnerAffordable Housing in New York examines the people, places, and policies that have helped make New York livable, from early experiments by housing reformers and the innovative public-private solutions of the 1970s and 1980s,  to today’s professionalized affordable housing industry. A richly illustrated, dynamic portrait of an evolving city, this comprehensive and authoritative history of public and middle-income housing in New York contributes significantly to contemporary debates on how to enable future generations of New Yorkers to call the city home. In honor of #Archtober, NYC’s month-long celebration of architecture and design, we’ve selected a few images from the book to share: 

Barbara Miller Lane: 10 Favorite Books on Architecture

In honor of #Archtober, NYC’s month-long celebration of architecture and design, Barbara Miller Lane took the time to share with us her “top ten” architecture titles. Lane is the author of Houses for a New World: Builders and Buyers in American Suburbs.  Often dismissed as “little boxes, made of ticky-tacky,” the tract houses of America’s postwar suburbs represent the twentieth century’s most successful experiment in mass housing. Lane’s is the first comprehensive history.

Pioneers of the Modern Movement from William Morris to Walter Gropius
Nikolaus Pevsner

Writing in exile from his native Germany, this future giant among twentieth century architectural historians traced the influences of the English Arts and Crafts movement in Germany, and saw the movement as culminating in the famous Bauhaus led by Walter Gropius. Pevsner thus wedded the history of major buildings to the broader history of design (as revealed in furniture, wall paper, textiles, ironwork, print making and painting). He described the Bauhaus in Germany as the culmination of “modern” movements in all the arts. Pevsner inspired many works on the history of design, and he also brought to the attention of architectural historians everywhere the importance of modern Germany in the development of modern architecture. Beautifully written and illustrated.

The Shingle Style and the Stick Style:
Architectural Theory and Design from Downing to the Origins of Wright
Vincent Scully

In this classic study, as in his earlier work of 1955 (The Shingle Style: Architectural Theory and Design from Richardson to the Origins of Wright), Scully modified the patterns of American architectural history writing to include the history of innovative wooden buildings (mostly residences) of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Scully identified a broad movement in American domestic architecture, one that stemmed from rustic and rural origins in American culture. He also traced the influence in the U. S. of important British architects such as Norman Shaw. Scully introduced into the mainstream of American architectural history writing a new canon of architects, men and firms like Bruce Price, Wilson Eyre, Peabody & Stearns, and McKim, Meade and White.

A History of Architecture:
Settings and Rituals
Spiro Kostof

For far too long, the history of architecture was regarded as the story of a few great masters, and their few great masterpieces. Kostof’s 1985 book signaled a broad change in writing about the history of architecture. Now, buildings were to be seen as embedded in their environments—in the streets and street patterns that surrounded them, and also in their intellectual, economic, religious and social contexts. Buildings, Kostof argued, were part of cities, so that the history of architecture must also include the history of urban form. The story of architecture also, Kostof said, reached beyond Western Europe and the United States to include most other areas of the world. A brilliant and unusually readable book that can be enjoyed by students, teachers at all levels, and casual readers.

Living Downtown:
The History of Residential Hotels in the United States
Paul Groth

If architectural history is to deal with residential design, then we need to know about all residential design, not just the design of free-standing houses for wealthy patrons. Living Downtown examines one collective version of residential architecture, the residential hotel, a frequent place to live for American urban dwellers in the nineteenth and early twentieth century, during a period of rapid urbanization. Groth discusses a wide range of types, from luxury hotels, used by wealthy families who still maintained homes in the country, all the way along the social spectrum to the boarding houses used by workers in urban enterprises. Groth brings to bear on this topic a strong knowledge of urban society and economics, while providing masterful analyses of the entire range of housing plans. The design of residential hotels, though such dwellings are out of favor now, offers many lessons for the urban housing of the future.

Second Suburb:
Levittown, Pennsylvania
Dianne Harris ed.

Between 1945 and about 1965, the American urban landscape was transformed by great swathes of new “tract houses”, built outside the old cities and containing radically new house designs. To the extent that Americans have known much about the architecture and planning of these suburbs, they have known the name of the Levitt Brothers, builders of “Levittowns” in New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. But until very recently, even the Levitts have been remarkably neglected by serious scholars. In this path-breaking work on Levittown, Pennsylvania, the authors trace the history of design as manifested in street patterns, house types, house plans and furnishings, as well as social issues such as the sense of community among the occupants, and the town’s path toward racial integration. A good beginning to what I hope will be a new era in writing about American domestic architecture.

The Food Axis:
Cooking, Eating, and the Architecture of American Houses
Elizabeth C. Cromley

Cromley is a major writer about the typologies of American residential design—about the history of bedrooms, for example, and the history of apartment dwellings. In The Food Axis, she turns to cooking and eating, central functions of everyday life. But she finds that cooking and eating also depend, in their location and the designs that serve them, on the provision and storage of foodstuffs. Cromley deals with the whole of American history, an ambitious focus. The book is full of wonderful insights about the history of dining rooms, kitchens, and food storage areas. A must for those interested in the everyday functions of buildings.

Hitler at Home
Despina Stratigakos

Even though buildings are often products of a broad intellectual and social context, sometimes political power plays a dominant role in building design. This is most often the case in buildings designed for autocrats, for kings and dictators. Adolf Hitler had, it can be argued, absolute power in Germany from 1933 to 1945, and he commissioned many buildings. He was himself an architect manqué. There are a number of books that deal with Hitler’s building program in its entirely, but none until Hitler at Home deals with Hitler’s own residences. Drawing on many archives, including the papers of Gerdy Troost, an interior designer and the wife of Hitler’s first official architect, Stratigakos shows how Hitler’s preferences for his own dwellings blended a rather modern attitude to design with a rustic nostalgia and a kind of heavy abstemiousness, all qualities that he sought to display as indicative of his character as Leader of the Nazi state. A major work of scholarship.

Houses without Names:
Architectural Nomenclature and the Classification of America’s Common Houses
Thomas E. Hubka

Thomas Hubka shows us almost all of America’s typical house types, categorizes them, and explains how to read the plans from the exterior. American domestic architecture has been greatly neglected by architectural historians, except for those houses designed by “great architects” or designed for “great families”. Hubka’s book makes a giant step forward in our understanding our visual environment.

Looking Beyond the Icons:
Midcentury Architecture, Landscape, and Urbanism
Richard Longstreth

In this collection of persuasive writings, Richard Longstreth urges American architectural and urban historians to pay more attention to mid-century building and landscape design. New forms of shopping centers, new kinds of community buildings, new types of buildings for business, and above all, “extraordinary” new kinds of suburbs, are the focus of the author’s essays. The book represents an important shift of emphasis from “the icons”, that is, from the “masters of modern architecture” emphasis of many architectural historians, and from the focus on earlier periods by many historians of planning. Longstreth sees landscape as the “central defining component of post-World War II development.”

The Strait Gate:
Thresholds and Power in Western History
Daniel Jütte

Doors are the thresholds between public space and private or semi-private space. As such, they are sites of power: the power to admit or bar entry, the power to permit or prevent exit. According to Daniel Jütte, door-design has therefore accumulated strong symbolic meanings in every society. This erudite book focuses on the “early modern” period (c. 1400-1800), but it has broad implications for the architectural history of other periods in history and for non-Western societies. It inspires architectural historians to think more carefully about passageways—about buildings as penetrable from the street and streets as accessible from the surrounding buildings. The author plans a sequel on windows.

LaneBarbara Miller Lane is Andrew W. Mellon Professor Emeritus in the Humanities and Research Professor in Growth and Structure of Cities at Bryn Mawr College. Her books include Architecture and Politics in Germany, 1918–1945, National Romanticism and Modern ArchitectureHousing and Dwelling, and Houses for a New World.

Stanley Fish debates the eternal

This podcast on Stanley Fish’s panel discussion was originally posted by the Institute for Arts and Ideas

While the world turns we think ideas, right or wrong, are eternal. Yet meaning changes over time and context. Should we conclude that, like the material world, ideas are transient and knowledge and morality passing stories? Or is the eternal in our grasp after all? New York Times columnist and author of Think Again Stanley Fish, philosopher of language Barry C. Smith, and award-winning novelist Joanna Kavenna seek out the eternal.

Stanley Fish is the author of numerous books, including How to Write a Sentence, There’s No Such Thing as Free Speech, and Versions of Academic Freedom. He is the Davidson-Kahn Distinguished University Professor and Professor of Law at Florida International University and the Visiting Floersheimer Professor of Law at Cardozo Law School. He previously taught at Berkeley, Johns Hopkins, Duke, and the University of Illinois, Chicago. He is the author of Think Again: Contrarian Reflections on Life, Culture, Politics, Religion, Law, and Education.

Utopian Town Planning: Photos and Illustrations from City of Refuge

lewisVisions of Utopia obsessed the nineteenth-century mind, shaping art, literature, and especially town planning. In City of Refuge: Separatists and Utopian Town Planning, Michael Lewis takes readers across centuries and continents to show how Utopian town planning produced a distinctive type of settlement characterized by its square plan, collective ownership of properties, and communal dormitories. In honor of #Archtober, NYC’s month-long celebration of architecture and design, here is a sneak peek at select photographs and illustrations.

 

Michelle Komie on PUP’s Art & Architecture list and #Archtober 2016

Throughout October, PUP will be offering a nod to Archtober, NYC’s month-long celebration of architecture and design, with features on our blog and social media. Today, we have a special message from our Art & Architecture editor, Michelle Komie: 

Princeton University Press has been publishing in architectural, urban, and design history for decades, stretching back to such classic titles as Otto von Simson’s The Gothic Cathedral (1956), Nikolaus Pevsner’s History of Building Types (1976), and Neil Levine’s The Architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright (1996). I’m so happy to have the opportunity to reinvigorate this very distinguished list. Our recently published titles exemplify the highest quality of scholarship by some of the leading figures in the field. In honor of Archtober, I want to focus on a few new books that look at the importance of architecture and design in everyday life.

Bloom LasnerMatt Lasner’s and Nick Bloom’s Affordable Housing in New York looks at the innovative ways the city has helped its residents to live, from the 1920s through today. There will never be enough affordable housing, but New York has done more than almost any other city to try to meet the demand. This book brings the fascinating, complicated array of people, places, and debates to life.

Barbara Miller Lane looks at the unsung figures in American mid-century housing in Houses for a New World: the anonymous architect-builders responsible for the design and construction of the tract houses of America’s postwar suburbs. This is the story of the largest experiment in mass housing in American history, and of the ranch and bi-level houses that so many of us grew up in.Lane

Charles Waldheim’s Landscape as Urbanism looks at the history of the urban landscape projects that are helping to shape cities around the globe, ranging from Wright’s Broadacre City and Mies’s Lafayette Park (Detroit) to major projects around the globe by Adriaan Geuze/West 8, James Corner/Field Operations, and Michael Van Valkenburgh urbanismAssociates, among many others. It’s a compelling and important argument: landscape, more than buildings, has changed the way cities urbanize in the 21st century.

Despina Stratigakos’s Where are the Women Architects? is the first title in our new series with Places Journal, Places Books, and provides a provocative look at the history and future of Stratigakoswomen in the profession.

Next year is the 150th birthday of Frank Lloyd Wright, and MoMA is taking the opportunity to look again at his work and career with a major exhibition opening in June of 2017. Last year, we published Neil Levine’s superb The Urbanism of Frank Lloyd Wright, and we’ll be publishing Kathryn Smith’s Wright on Exhibit, the definitive history of Wright’s exhibitions, next spring.

LevineThere are many more outstanding titles to come in architecture, urbanism, and design over the next several years. I’m especially excited about a major new urban history of San Francisco by Alison Isenberg, and another on Brooklyn by Tom Campanella, to come in 2017 and 2018 respectively. Happy #Archtober, and happy reading in the meantime!

 

 

Michelle Komie
Executive Editor, Art & Architecture

Princeton University Press is on Instagram!

Princeton University Press is excited to announce a presence on Instagram, where we’ll be featuring posts on our most visually compelling books, award-winning design, new offerings from our art and architecture list, publishing stories and more. Follow us at @PrincetonUPress !

 

 

Mary Jacobus on Cy Twombly, “a poet in paint”

Jacobus What does it mean to call an artist “a poet in paint,” as one of Twombly’s supporters did at the outset of his career? And what does it mean to bring poetry into painting and drawing, as Twombly’s artistic practice does? In Reading Cy Twombly: Poetry in Paint, Mary Jacobus — a literary critic — sets out to answer these questions, showing how throughout his life, Twombly turned to poetry as a way to expand abstract painting’s reach. Jacobus recently took the time to answer some questions about Twombly’s relationship to poetry over half a century or more, and his emergence as one of the major painters of the second half of the twentieth century.

What led you to write this book in the first place?

MJ: My first encounter with the work of Cy Twombly was an early drawing that I found fascinating in its use of line. Then I became aware of the extent to which line in the form of writing—abstracted and non-referential—formed part of his work: in his early lyrical series Poems to the Sea (1959), for instance, or in later work of the 1960s ranging from the sequence Letter of Resignation (1967) to the vast “blackboard” paintings at the end of the 1960s. Quite early on, Twombly seems to have been aware of the ways in which rhythm and repetition in handwriting training (the laborious Palmer method), or shorthand annotations or mathematical equations, could become the basis for abstract signs lacking specific reference: as if they were a representation of thinking without thought-content. Twombly’s own handwriting is famously hard to read, but its illegibility becomes part of his inimitable “signature” as an artist. I was delighted that Princeton University Press put Twombly’s handwriting on the dust-jacket.

But that’s writing as formal abstraction. Many people respond to Twombly’s work for its affective charge — how it seems to speak to them directly.

MJ: You’re right. Twombly manages to make his art both cerebral and obscurely charged and personal, as if alternately suggesting and withholding traces of the thoughts and feelings that went into it. One might call him an artist of obliteration as well as writing, since he often paints out or makes hard to read, the words he has included. As a literary critic, I was fascinated by the process of deciphering the words, phrases, sentences, and quotations in his work. I suppose we all look for reference when we read, even if it’s Mallarmé experimenting with the blanks between words and phrases. Twombly famously said he wasn’t entirely an abstractionist. In the post-Abstract Expressionist era, he found a way to make art out of automatic writing that owes something to Dadaist reliance on chance and the “found” object — and perhaps also to his national service training as a cryptographer in the mid-1950s. In the book, I stress the element of secrecy in Twombly’s work that coexists with a Romantic and affective impulse, and even his use of paint — fluid and dripping, like the abstract seascapes of Hero and Leandro (1981-84) or the “pond” or “Green” paintings (1988) — as a form of erasure.

You’ve emphasized writing as such — but what are Twombly’s literary sources? What kind of poetry does he quote in his paintings?

MJ: Art critics have often noted the presence of poetic quotation — not to mention copious mythic and classical allusions — in Twombly’s work. Sometimes they have tended to assimilate him to a continuous classical tradition or to an almost omniscient (not to say “Humanist”) absorption of the literature of the past. I think it’s important to say that Twombly’s “anthology,” if you can call it that, is very much of his time. At Black Mountain College, where he spent a formative period early in the 1950s, the poetry of Rilke jostled with a distinctly Poundian emphasis (channeled through the poet Charles Olson, at that time the dominant presence) on classical poetry and fragments of archaic Greek poets like Sappho and Alkman, both favorites of Twombly’s. Olson’s “glyphomania” had a lot to do with Twombly’s interest in the written sign as such, as well as Motherwell’s promotion of automatic writing. But avant-garde poetry and poetry teaching in the first half of the twentieth century was strongly influenced by Pound’s interest in the archaic. So Twombly was being “modern” rather than nostalgic in the poetry that came to hand — poetry that came to include Mallarmé as well as Rilke, and modern Greek poets like Cavafy and Seferis.

Did Twombly read classical or modern European poetry in the original? What was his relation to translation?

MJ: Twombly almost always uses translation, although just occasionally he quotes Rilke in German. He used translations that were very much part of his twentieth-century literary environment—by Robert Bly (Rilke) or Davenport (Archilochos) and in the case of Greek poets like Cavafy and Seferis, contemporary translations or whatever he could find. For the series, Fifty Days at Iliam (1978) he used Pope’s translation of the Iliad. His library included a great many volume of poetry in translation, and you can see him editing, annotating, and selecting the passages he wanted, just as his archive includes fragmentary quotations and passages that he intended to work up as paintings or drawings. The massive painting, Say Goodbye, Catullus, to the Shores of Asia Minor (completed in 1994) reads like a compendium of poetry that Twombly returned to over many decades—Keats, Rilke, Seferis, and one surprise I won’t give away — that suggest how he used quotations to knit together a big painting and also to solve formal problems about space on the canvas.

Do you think your book will make a contribution to “image and text” studies?

MJ: Yes and no. Yes, in that Twombly himself is clearly thinking about the incommensurateness of image and text in the late series, The Rose (2008), where Rilke’s French poems accompany massive panels of multi-foliate roses. No, in that even in his artist’s-book collaboration with Paz, poem and image exist side by side in ways that express affinity without mutual interrogation. Twombly’s texts, whether scribbled or whited-out, don’t “explain” his paintings and drawings, any more than their resonant titles (Untitled is a favorite in any case). Sometimes Twombly draws on well-known narratives, for instance Shakespeare’s Venus and Adonis or Marlowe’s Hero and Leander, but he often does so in mischievous or ironic ways, responding to something latent in their sexual content. His “versions” (if you can call them that) contain a kind of swerve, encrypting sexual concerns or commenting indirectly on the artist’s complicated relation to society. This is particularly the case when Twombly draws on Theocritus’s Idylls. Pastoral has always been a mode adapted to different kinds of politics, rather than a form of nostalgia for the past. What I have tried to do in “reading” Cy Twombly is to read against the grain — misread, if you like — and to suggest that on the analogy with experimental translation (which often uses visual means too), Twombly is himself a kind of neo-Dadaist translator who has no compunction about altering his sources.

You mentioned politics. What would you say is the important emphasis of your book besides its focus on the modernity of Twombly’s practice of quotation?

MJ: Twombly has often been seen as a-political, that is as focused on the mythic past rather than the present, and for some critics this has been a problem—Twombly is legitimized if he confirms to the informe but not if he seems to be a mouthpiece for a timeless Humanism. One of my concerns was to bring out the extent to which Twombly not only “outs” himself in the material he quotes and alludes to, but also the ways in which the theme of war runs through his work. His was an era that spanned the Korean War, the Cold War space race, the Vietnam War, and the first and second Gulf Wars. Twombly was always interested in archaeology. He visited archaeological sites in North Africa during his first trip to Europe and later in the Middle East—he loved the phrase “Asia Minor.” He was strongly opposed to war and visited Mesopotamian and Sumerian sites that were later damaged. He read the texts of Greek and Persian adventurism and his house at Gaeta overlooks an American naval harbor. A work like Fifty Days at Iliam coincides with the period of American reckoning with the Vietnam War and the problem of how to memorialize the war-dead. Many of Twombly’s later sculptures, and some of his paintings, are “memorial” or epitaphic works that allude to the period of the Gulf Wars and invasion of Iraq (it’s worth noting that Italy was strongly against the invasion of Iraq).

What difference do you think it made to Twombly’s art, and to the poetry he read, that he moved to Italy in the late 1950s?

MJ: That’s a very interesting question. Twombly was already familiar with the classical tradition before he arrived in Italy for the first time as a young man, with Robert Rauschenberg. Italy meant the Mediterranean, in an expanded sense that included North Africa (on that first trip) and later the Middle East. But living in Rome also oriented Twombly to Europe, even if he returned to New York each year to paint; Italy and New York had considerable links after mid-century. Perhaps one effect of the move to Rome was to cut him off from some of the New York poets of his own generation (O’Hara and Ashbery, for instance) who were keenly interested in modern art. I would say that what Twombly’s move mainly confirmed, in literary ways, was the formative influence of the European high modernists — Mallarmé and Rilke — and Mediterranean poets like Cavafy and Seferis.

To sum up, what do you think a literary critic has to offer when it comes to writing about an artist?

MJ: Obviously it depends to some extent on the artist — not to mention the literary critic. I’ve always been interested in art criticism, but one thing I learned in writing this book was that art criticism (like literary criticism) has its own disciplinary formations and protocols. So I learned a lot while writing it, including how to pay attention to the details of texture and line, paint and support, that probably are second nature to a well-trained art historian. But “Art writing,” as such, is a bit different. I deliberately end the book with Baudelaire’s essay on Delacroix (the origin of the phrase “a poet in painting”) because Baudelaire founds a modern art criticism in which the critic tries to do something that Barthes also attempts in his writing about Twombly: create a verbal translation. Art criticism needs language, it needs the literary. So I’m not simply claiming that it helps to know what Twombly’s sources were — one can certainly appreciate his work without knowing anything about his quotations — but that the exchange between literature and art, or literary criticism and art criticism, is ongoing and crucial in ways that extend beyond Twombly’s particular art practice. We can’t do without language. I see Twombly as a painter who recognizes this mutual dependence of art and writing, but at the same time his work offers something altogether more visceral and immediate: the “now” of painting and drawing as a kind of action, a way of knowing, specific to the visual artist.

Mary Jacobus is Professor Emerita of English at the University of Cambridge, England and, before that, Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. She has written widely on Romanticism, feminism, and visual art. Most recently, she is the author of The Poetics of Psychoanalysis and Romantic Things. Jacobus lives in Ithaca, New York, and Cambridge, UK. Her most recent book is Reading Cy Twombly: Poetry in Paint.

Gendered toys and architectural careers

The numbers don’t add up, according to Despina Stratigakos, author of Where are the Women Architects? 40% of those pursuing a degree in architecture are women, and yet the vast majority of professionals working in the field are male. Why is this? Outside pressure is key, and that begins at a young age.

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CC image courtesy of marek szlak on Flickr

It’s no secret that the toys children play with often shape their imaginations and ideals. So what does it mean when one of the biggest known architectural toy brands alters the brand just for girls? Lego is a household name and despite years of knowing that girls are interested in the toys, their website layout features a small ‘girls’ tab, implying that only this selection of toys are intended for girls. The section contains different playsets, with everything from a beauty salon to an airport. But unlike the boys section, which presumably encompasses the rest of the website, all of these toys come with large sections prebuilt and don’t encourage unique construction by the girls.

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CC image courtesy of Bill Ward on Flickr

In her book, Where are the Women Architects?, Stratigakos discusses other girls’ toys that have caused controversy, like Architect Barbie. Though the problem of gendered toys has been widely discussed, no clear solution has presented itself. The fact remains: the “girl friendly” Lego Friends toys offer no real role models outside of the homemaking, beauty, and food industries. None of this bodes well considering the sobering statistics: a professional field that is mostly composed of and caters toward men.

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CC image courtesy of A. C. on Flickr

StratigakosDespina Stratigakos is associate professor and interim chair of architecture at the University at Buffalo, State University of New York. She is the author of Hitler at Home and A Woman’s Berlin: Building the Modern City.