A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte / Painting by Georges Seurat Your eyes are languid. Look at the trees and see the hazy dappling of the leaves. Look at the river and see the unmixed points of periwinkle, lapis lazuli, Aegean blue. Who are these...
Let’s say that not long after Prince Orsini returned home from years at war, his wife, Giulia Farnese, passed away. Let’s say instead of building her an austere family tomb, Orsini commissioned a sculpture garden full of monsters and mythical beings for her ghost to...
We stepped beyond the museum,a sinking cabin with weeds webbing between the splintered logs,as though they had every right to exist;an iron pump rusting beside a butter churn,a pushpin thrust into the spongy ground.This was once someone’s home. Stones snapping beneath...
