Édouard Dentu, éditeur

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris) 
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Édouard Dentu, éditeur (Paris)
Album des Arts Utiles et Amusants
1832
hand-colored lithographic plate
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

from The Consolation of Philosophy

Happy is he, that with fix'd Eyes

The Fountain of all goodness spies!

Happy is he, that can break through

Those Bonds, which tie him here below!

    The Thracian poet long ago

Kind Orpheus, full of tears and wo

Did for his lov'd Euridice

In such sad Numbers mourn, that he

Made the Trees run in to his mone,

And Streams stand still to hear him grone.

The Does came fearless in one throng

And Lyons to his mournful Song,

And charm'd by the harmonious sound

The Hare stay'd by the quiet Hound.

    But when Love height'ned by despair

And deep reflections on his Fair
Had swell'd his heart, and made it rise

And run in Tears out at his Eyes:

And those sweet Aires, which did appease

Wild Beasts, could give their Lord no ease;

Then vex'd, that so much grief and Love

Mov'd not at all the gods above,

With desperate thoughts and bold intent,

Towards the Shades below he went;

For thither his fair Love was fled,

And he must have her from the dead.

– Boethius (AD 476-524), translated by Henry Vaughan (1678)

Louis Rhead - Art Nouveau Marketing

Louis Rhead
Try Vio-Violet, a new Lundborg Perfume
ca. 1890-1900
lithographic poster
Library of Congress

Louis Rhead
King's Puremalt
ca. 1893
lithographic poster
New York Public Library

Louis Rhead
Packer's Tar Soap
ca. 1895
lithographic poster
Library of Congress

Louis Rhead
The Modern Cleanser (Pearline)
ca. 1893
lithographic poster
New York Public Library

Louis Rhead
L. Prang & Co.'s Holiday Publications
1895
lithographic poster
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Louis Rhead
Prang's Easter Publications
1896
lithographic poster
Indianapolis Museum of Art

Louis Rhead
Cassell's Magazine
1896
lithographic poster
Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
(Achenbach Foundation)

Louis Rhead
Le Quartier Latin
ca. 1890-1900
lithographic poster
Library of Congress

Louis Rhead
Morning Journal
1900
lithographic poster
New York Public Library

Louis Rhead
Photochrome Engraving Company
1895
lithographic poster
Library of Congress

Louis Rhead
Scribner's for Xmas
1895
lithographic poster
Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
(Achenbach Foundation)

Louis Rhead
The Century Magazine for June
1896
lithographic poster
Library of Congress

Louis Rhead
Century Magazine Midsummer Holiday Number
ca. 1890-1900
lithographic poster
Library of Congress

Louis Rhead
The Century Midsummer Holiday Number
1895
lithographic poster
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Louis Rhead
Advertising in The Sun
gives Best Results
1896
lithographic poster
New York Public Library

Folklore

You shouldn't have a heart attack

in your 20s. 47 is the perfect time

for a heart attack. Feeding stray shadows

only attracts more shadows. Starve a fever, 

shatter a glass house. People often mistake

thirst for hunger so first take a big slurp.

A motorboat is wasted on me even though

all summer the pool was, I didn't

get in it once. Not in it, not in it

twice. A dollhouse certainly isn't wasted

on a mouse both in terms of habitation

and rhyme. Always leave yourself time

to get lost. 50 cattle are enough

for a decent dowry but sometimes a larger

gesture is called for like shouting

across the Grand Canyon. Get used to

nothing answering back. Always remember

the great effects of the Tang poets,

the meagerness of their wine, meagerness

of writing supplies. Go ahead, drown

in the moon's puddle. Contusions

are to be expected and a long wait

in ICU under the muted TVs advertising

miracle knives and spot removers.

How wonderful to be made entirely

of hammered steel! No one knows why

Lee chose to divert his troops to Gettysburg

but all agree it was the turning point 

of the Civil War. Your turning point

may be lying crying on the floor. 

Get up! The perfect age for being buried

alive in sand is 8 but jumping up 33, alluding

to the resurrection, a powerful motif

in Western art but then go look at the soup cans

and crumpled fenders in the modern wing:

what a relief. Nearly 80% of the denizens

of the deep can produce their own light

but up here, we make our own darkness.

– Dean Young (Shock by Shock, 2015)

Will Hicok Low illustrates Lamia by John Keats

Will Hicok Low
On this side of Jove's clouds
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

Upon a time, before the faery broods
Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,
Before King Oberon's bright diadem,
Sceptre, and mantle, clasp'd with dewy gem,
Frighted away the Dryads and the Fauns
From rushes green, and brakes, and cowslip'd lawns,
The ever-smitten Hermes empty left
His golden throne, bent warm on amorous theft:
From high Olympus had he stolen light,
On this side of Jove's clouds, to escape the sight
Of his great summoner, and made retreat
Into a forest on the shores of Crete.

Will Hicok Low
And so he rested on the lonely ground
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

From vale to vale, from wood to wood, he flew,
Breathing upon the flowers his passion new,
And wound with many river to its head,
To find where this sweet nymph prepar'd her secret bed:
In vain; the sweet nymph might nowhere be found,
And so he rested, on the lonely ground,
Pensive, and full of painful jealousies
Of the Wood-Gods, and even the very trees.

Will Hicok Low
The words she spake came as through bubbling honey
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

She was a gordian shape of dazzling hue,
Vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue;
Striped like a zebra, freckled like a pard,
Eyed like a peacock, and all crimson barr'd;
And full of silver moons, that, as she breathed,
Dissolv'd, or brighter shone, or interwreathed
Their lustres with the gloomier tapestries –
So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries,
She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf,
Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
Upon her crest she wore a wannish fire
Sprinkled with stars, like Ariadne's tiar:
Her head was serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet!
She had a woman's mouth, with all its pearls complete:
And for her eyes: what could such eyes do there
But weep, and weep, that they were born so fair?
As Proserpine still weeps for her Sicilian air.
Her throat was serpent, but the words she spake
Came, as through bubbling honey, for Love's sake,
And thus; while Hermes on his pinions lay,
Like a stoop'd falcon ere he takes his prey.

Will Hicok Low
I dreamt I saw thee robed in purple flakes
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885-
gouache-
Art Institute of Chicago

'Fair Hermes, crown'd with feathers, fluttering light,
I had a splendid dream of thee last night:
I saw thee sitting, on a throne of gold,
Among the Gods, upon Olympus old,
The only sad one; for thou didst not hear
The soft, lute-finger'd Muses chanting clear,
Nor even Apollo when he sang alone,
Deaf to his throbbing throat's long, long melodious moan.
I dreamt I saw thee robed in  purple flakes,
Break amorous through the clouds, as morning breaks,
And, swiftly as bright Phœbean dart,
Strike for the Cretan isle; and here thou art!
Too gentle Hermes, hast thou found the maid?'

Will Hicok Low
The guarded nymph near-smiling on the green
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

'Too frail of heart! for this lost nymph of thine,
Free as the air, invisibly, she strays
About these thornless wilds; her pleasant days
She tastes unseen; unseen her nimble feet
Leave traces in the grass and flowers sweet;
From weary tendrils, and bow'd branches green,
She plucks the fruit unseen, she bathes unseen:
And by my power is her beauty veil'd
To keep it unaffronted, unassail'd
By the love-glances of unlovely eyes,
Of Satyrs, Fauns, and blear'd Silenus' sighs.
Pale grew her immortality, for woe
Of all these lovers, and she grieved so
I took compassion on her, bade her steep
Her hair in weїrd syrops, that would keep
Her loveliness invisible, yet free
To wander as she loves, in liberty.
Thou shalt behold her, Hermes, thou alone,
If thou wilt, as thou swearest, grant my boon!'
Then, once again, the charmed God began
An oath, and through the serpent's ears it ran
Warm, tremulous, devout, psalterian.
Ravish'd, she lifted her Circean head,
Blush'd a live damask, and swift-lisping said,
'I was a woman, let me have once more
A woman's shape, and charming as before.
I love a youth of Corinth – O the bliss!
Give me my woman's form, and place me where he is.
Stoop, Hermes, let me breathe upon thy brow,
And thou shalt see thy sweet nymph even now.'
The God on half-shut feathers sank serene,
She breath'd upon his eyes, and swift was seen
Of both the guarded nymph near-smiling on the green.

Will Hicok Low
Into the green recessed woods they flew
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

It was no dream; or say a dream it was,
Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass
Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
One warm, flush'd moment, hovering, it might seem
Dash'd by the wood-nymph's beauty, so he burn'd;
Then, lighting on the printless verdure, turn'd
To the swoon'd serpent, and with languid arm,
Delicate, put to proof the lythe Caducean charm.
So done, upon the nymph his eyes he bent
Full of adoring tears and blandishment,
And towards her stept: she, like a moon in wane,
Faded before  him, cower'd, nor could restrain
Her fearful sobs, self-folding like a flower
That faints into itself at evening hour:
But the God fostering her chilled hand,
She felt the warmth, her eyelids open'd bland,
And, like new flowers at morning song of bees,
Bloom'd, and gave up her honey to the lees.
Into the green-recessed woods they flew;
Nor grew they pale, as mortal lovers do.

[Now follows the serpent-woman's doomed reunion with Lycius, her lost lover] –

Will Hicok Low
Foremost in the envious race
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

And once, while among mortals dreaming thus,
she saw the young Corinthian Lycius
Charioting foremost in the envious race,
Like a young Jove with calm uneager face,
And fell into a swooning love of him.

Will Hicok Low
The wide-spreaded night above her towers
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

As men talk in a dream, so Corinth all,
Throughout her palaces imperial,
And all her populous streets and temples lewd,
Mutter'd, like tempest in the distance brew'd,
To the wide-spreaded night above her towers.

Will Hicok Low
They had arrived before a pillared porch
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

While yet he spake they had arrived before
A pillar'd porch, with lofty portal door,
Where hung a silver lamp, whose phosphor glow
Reflected in the slabbed steps below,
Mild as a star in water; for so new
And so unsullied was the marble hue,
So through the crystal polish, liquid fine,
Ran the dark veins, that none but feet divine
Could e'er have touch'd there.

Will Hicok Low
They were enthroned in the eventide upon a couch
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

For all this came a ruin: side by side
They were enthroned, in the even tide,
Upon a couch, near to a curtaining
Whose airy texture, from a golden string,
Floated into the room, and let appear
Unveil'd the summer heaven, blue and clear,
Betwixt two marble shafts: – there they reposed,
Where use had made it sweet, with eyelids closed,
Saving a tythe which love still open kept,
That they might see each other while they almost slept . . .

Will Hicok Low
Deafening the swallow's twitter came a thrill of trumpets
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

When from the slope side of a suburb hill,
Deafening the swallow's twitter, came a thrill
Of trumpets – Lycius started – the sounds fled,
But left a thought, a buzzing in his head.
For the first time, since first he harbour'd in
That purple-lined palace of sweet sin,
His spirit pass'd beyond its golden bourn
Into the noisy world almost forsworn.

Will Hicok Low
The sophist's eye like a sharp spear went through her utterly
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

'Fool!' said the sophist, in an under-tone
Gruff with contempt; which a death-nighing moan
From Lycius answer'd, as heart-struck and lost,
He sank supine beside the aching ghost.
'Fool! Fool!' repeated he, while his eyes still
Relented not, nor mov'd; 'from every ill
Of life have I preserv'd thee to this day ,
And shall I see thee made a serpent's prey?'
Then Lamia breath'd death breath; the sophist's eye,
Like a sharp spear, went through her utterly,
Keen cruel, perceant, stinging: she, as well
As her weak hand could any meaning tell,
Motion'd him to be silent; vainly so,
He look'd and look'd again a level – No!
'A Serpent!' echoed he; no sooner said,
Than with a frightful scream she vanished . . .

Will Hicok Low
And in its marriage robe the heavy body wound
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

And Lycius' arms were empty of delight,
As were his limbs of life, from that same night.
On the high couch he lay! – his friends came round –
Supported him – no pulse, or breath they found,
And, in its marriage robe, the heavy body wound.

– John Keats, extracts from Lamia (1820)

Will Hicok Low
Lamia
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

Will Hicok Low
Artist's dedication to his friend Robert Louis Stevenson
(illustration for Keats's Lamia, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia)
1885
gouache
Art Institute of Chicago

Will Hicok Low
Self-portrait at Montigny
1876
oil on canvas
Smithsonian American Art Museum

In the Name of Mercy, Give! (Coercive Posters)

Albert Herter
In the Name of Mercy, Give!
(Red Cross Poster)
1917
lithograph
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Milton Bancroft
Enlist in the Navy
1917
lithograph
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Dmitri Moor
Reds vs Whites
(Russian Revolutionary Propaganda Poster)
1920
lithograph
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

El Lissitsky
Beat the Whites with the Red Wedge
(Russian Revolutionary Propaganda Poster)
1920
lithograph
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

William Dodge Stevens
Teamwork Builds Ships
1918
lithograph
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

Workers

I've seen bees, in the spell of a queen,
mine the clover all afternoon
and ants, those laborers, hauling crumbs
to their elaborate dwellings
and lazy crows waiting
for something to be hit by a car
so the pickings will be easy.
And knowing they have no choice
but to obey the imperatives
of their natures, I've moved on
without judgment to the flies
born to be pests and the purple martins
that eat them, and I've been amazed
by the intelligence behind such work,
what eats what, and how much,
the incredible death-work that is
the life of the universe.

And I've known the human work
that uplifts and cleanses, glassblowers
as miraculous as seeds
which hold the shape of flowers,
ordinary people who rival the ant,
who call forth in emergencies
the cockroach's genius for survival.
And I've seen the crow-people too,
the sloth-people, the hyenas,
have seen the cruelty of nature
and the cruelty of economics
merge and twist into confusion,
and have marvelled at the skunk
and its gorgeous white stripe
and its stink and have wondered
if the outlaw, in the company of outlaws,
planning his next job,
isn't the happiest man alive.

– Stephen Dunn (published in Poetry, 1981)

Anonymous British designer
Bad Form in Dress
1916
letterpress
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Luciano Ramo
Bear Down, Citizen Soldier!
1918
lithograph
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Bernard Partridge
Take up the Sword of Justice
1915
lithograph
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Anonymous British designer
Our Dumb Friends' League
1915
lithograph
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

F.A. Crepaux
Buy More Liberty Bonds
1918
lithograph
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Rockwell Kent
Supplication
(Exhibition of Watercolors by Rockwell Kent)
1926
wood-engraving
Philadelphia Museum of Art

Lucian Bernhard
Advertising Poster for Adler Typewriters
1909-1910
lithograph
Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

A Fourth Group of Verse, Section 33

Passing the shop after school, he would look up at the sign
     and go on, glad that his own life had to do with books.
Now at night when he saw the grey in his parents' hair and
     heard their talk of that day's worries and the next:
lack of orders, if orders, lack of workers, if workers, lack of
     goods, if there were workers and goods, lack of orders again,
for the tenth time he said, "I'm going in with you: there's more
     money in business."
His father answered, "Since when do you care about money?
     You don't know what kind of a life you're going into –
     but you have always had your own way."

He went out selling: in the morning he read the Arrival of
     Buyers in The Times; he packed half a dozen samples into
     a box and went from office to office.
Others like himself, sometimes a crowd, were waiting to thrust
     their cards through a partition opening.

When he ate, vexations were forgotten for a while.  A quarter
     past eleven was the time to do down the steps to Holz's
     lunch counter.
He would mount one of the stools. The food, steaming
     fragrance, just brought from the kitchen, would be
     dumped into the trays of the steam-table.
Hamburger steak, mashed potatoes, onions and gravy, or a
     knackwurst and sauerkraut; after that, a pudding with a
     square of sugar and butter sliding from the top and red
     fruit juice dripping over the saucer.
He was growing fat.

– Charles Reznikoff (1894-1976)


At the Office Holiday Party

I can now confirm that I am not just fatter
than everyone I work with, but I'm also fatter
than all their spouses. Even the heavily bearded
bear in accounting has a little otter-like boyfriend.

When my co-workers brightly introduce me
as "the funny one in the office," their spouses
give them a look which translates to, Well, duh,
then they both wait for me to say something funny.

A gaggle of models comes shrieking into the bar
to further punctuate why I sometimes hate living
in this city. They glitter, a shiny gang of scissors.
I don't know how to look like I'm not struggling.

Sometimes on the subway back to Queens,
I can tell who's staying on past the Lexington stop
because I have bought their shoes before at Payless.
They are shoes that fool absolutely no one.

Everyone wore their special holiday party outfits.
It wasn't until I arrived at the bar that I realized
my special holiday party outfit was exactly the same
as the outfits worn by the restaurant's busboys.

While I'm standing in line for the bathroom,
another patron asks if I'm there to clean it.

– Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz (from Everything is Everything, 2009)

Maximilian Lenz
Subscribe to the Sixth War Loan
1917
lithograph
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Anonymous British designer
Eat No Eggs In Easter Week
1916
lithograph
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston