TUMBLR

A scrapbook of stuff I'm reading / looking at / listening to / thinking about. Ask me anything you can't Google.



Posts tagged "saul steinberg"

Sep 08, 2014
Permalink
newyorker:

Read about this week’s cover, which honors Saul Steinberg’s centenary.

Filed under: Steinberg

newyorker:

Read about this week’s cover, which honors Saul Steinberg’s centenary.

Filed under: Steinberg

(Source: newyorker.com)

Jul 27, 2014
Permalink
Saul Steinberg and Kurt Vonnegut

In A Man Without A Country, Vonnegut called Steinberg “the wisest person I ever met in my entire life”:

I could ask him anything, and six seconds would pass, and then he would give me a perfect answer, gruffly, almost a growl. He was born in Romania, in a house where, according to him, “the geese looked in the windows.”
I said, “Saul, how should I feel about Picasso?”
Six seconds passed, and then he said, “God put him on Earth to show us what it’s like to be really rich.” I said, “Saul, I am a novelist, and many of my friends are novelists and good ones, but when we talk I keep feeling we are in a very different businesses. What makes me feel that way?”
Six seconds passed, and then he said, “It’s very simple. There are two sorts of artists, one not being in the least superior to the other. But one responds to the history of his or her art so far, and the other responds to life itself.”
I said, “Saul, are you gifted?”
Six seconds passed, and then he growled, “No. But what you respond to in any work of art is the artist’s struggle against his or her limitations.’

Filed under: Steinberg, Vonnegut

Saul Steinberg and Kurt Vonnegut

In A Man Without A Country, Vonnegut called Steinberg “the wisest person I ever met in my entire life”:

I could ask him anything, and six seconds would pass, and then he would give me a perfect answer, gruffly, almost a growl. He was born in Romania, in a house where, according to him, “the geese looked in the windows.”

I said, “Saul, how should I feel about Picasso?”

Six seconds passed, and then he said, “God put him on Earth to show us what it’s like to be really rich.” I said, “Saul, I am a novelist, and many of my friends are novelists and good ones, but when we talk I keep feeling we are in a very different businesses. What makes me feel that way?”

Six seconds passed, and then he said, “It’s very simple. There are two sorts of artists, one not being in the least superior to the other. But one responds to the history of his or her art so far, and the other responds to life itself.”

I said, “Saul, are you gifted?

Six seconds passed, and then he growled, “No. But what you respond to in any work of art is the artist’s struggle against his or her limitations.’

Filed under: Steinberg, Vonnegut

Feb 13, 2014
Permalink
thinkprocessnotproduct:

Saul Steinberg’s studio, 1959

Photographed by Inge Morath

Filed under: Saul Steinberg

thinkprocessnotproduct:

Saul Steinberg’s studio, 1959

Photographed by Inge Morath

Filed under: Saul Steinberg

Sep 09, 2013
Permalink

Mica Angela Hendricks’ collaborative drawings with her 4-year-old daughter

explore-blog:

Artist Mica Angela Hendricks collaborates with her 4-year-old daughter after the little girl peeked inside her mommy’s sketchbook and asked to contribute.

Some of the collaborative artworks are now available as prints.

Love this. When Saul Steinberg was asked about whether Klee influenced his work, he waved his hand and said, “We are both children who never stopped drawing.”

Filed under: parenting

(Source: explore-blog, via braiker)

Aug 15, 2013
Permalink

Dec 08, 2012
Permalink

Saul Steinberg New Yorker Covers

Steinberg did 87 covers for the New Yorker. Eighty-seven! (You can see most of the covers and his illustrations in Saul Steinberg at the New Yorker)

Filed under: Saul Steinberg

Nov 25, 2012
Permalink
Saul Steinberg: A Biography by Deirdre Bair

Well, this just shot up to the top of my Christmas list. Here’s the NYTimes review.

Filed under: Saul Steinberg

Saul Steinberg: A Biography by Deirdre Bair

Well, this just shot up to the top of my Christmas list. Here’s the NYTimes review.

Filed under: Saul Steinberg

Jan 22, 2012
Permalink
Saul Steinberg’s Italian Years (1933-1941)


  The aesthetic persona of Saul Steinberg (1914-1999), who became one of America’s most beloved artists, began to take shape in Milan during the 1930s. Steinberg arrived there in 1933 to study architecture, having left his native Romania and its virulent anti-Semitism. In 1936, while still an architecture student, he started contributing gag cartoons to popular Italian humor newspapers and soon became renowned for his clever visual wit. These first years in Italy, which he would later remember as a “paradise,” turned rapidly into “hell” in 1938, with the institution of racial laws that deprived him of income, a profession, and a legal residence. Forced to live as an unwanted “foreign Jew” and unable to obtain the visas necessary to leave Italy, by late 1940 he was under threat of imminent arrest; a few months later, he spent several weeks in an internment camp before finally managing to flee the country.


Above: a 1937 drawing of Steinberg’s room in Milan.

Saul Steinberg’s Italian Years (1933-1941)

The aesthetic persona of Saul Steinberg (1914-1999), who became one of America’s most beloved artists, began to take shape in Milan during the 1930s. Steinberg arrived there in 1933 to study architecture, having left his native Romania and its virulent anti-Semitism. In 1936, while still an architecture student, he started contributing gag cartoons to popular Italian humor newspapers and soon became renowned for his clever visual wit. These first years in Italy, which he would later remember as a “paradise,” turned rapidly into “hell” in 1938, with the institution of racial laws that deprived him of income, a profession, and a legal residence. Forced to live as an unwanted “foreign Jew” and unable to obtain the visas necessary to leave Italy, by late 1940 he was under threat of imminent arrest; a few months later, he spent several weeks in an internment camp before finally managing to flee the country.

Above: a 1937 drawing of Steinberg’s room in Milan.

Jan 19, 2012
Permalink
Saul Steinberg, Autogeography, 1966 (via)

From “Descent from Paradise: Saul Steinberg’s Italian Years”:


  For most of his adult life, Saul Steinberg (1914-1999) drew maps—maps of real or imaginary locations, maps of words and of concepts. Often the maps are of actual places refracted through the artist’s mental constructs, as in View of the World from 9th Avenue, his famous March 29, 1976 New Yorker cover, which, reprinted as a poster, copied, and appropriated for many other cities of the world, became his personal nightmare; even today, it remains the icon that most easily identifies him. There is, however, another splendid map, completed ten years earlier; although intended for The New Yorker, it was never fully published in Steinberg’s lifetime. Entitled Autogeography, it is a bird’s-eye view of a green territory dotted with the names of many locales, large and small, from every corner of the world. A very blue, winding river flows through the territory, and on the bottom right it skirts a small lake with an island. On the island is the word “Milano,” while on the shore northeast of the island we find a locality named “Tortoreto (Teramo).”

Saul Steinberg, Autogeography, 1966 (via)

From “Descent from Paradise: Saul Steinberg’s Italian Years”:

For most of his adult life, Saul Steinberg (1914-1999) drew maps—maps of real or imaginary locations, maps of words and of concepts. Often the maps are of actual places refracted through the artist’s mental constructs, as in View of the World from 9th Avenue, his famous March 29, 1976 New Yorker cover, which, reprinted as a poster, copied, and appropriated for many other cities of the world, became his personal nightmare; even today, it remains the icon that most easily identifies him. There is, however, another splendid map, completed ten years earlier; although intended for The New Yorker, it was never fully published in Steinberg’s lifetime. Entitled Autogeography, it is a bird’s-eye view of a green territory dotted with the names of many locales, large and small, from every corner of the world. A very blue, winding river flows through the territory, and on the bottom right it skirts a small lake with an island. On the island is the word “Milano,” while on the shore northeast of the island we find a locality named “Tortoreto (Teramo).”

Jan 18, 2012
Permalink
Saul Steinberg lookin’ PIMP! with his girlfriend, Ada Ongari, Milan, c. 1937-40.

From “Saul Steinberg’s Italian Years”:


  Steinberg’s artistic persona began to take shape in Milan, where he arrived from his native Romania in 1933 to study architecture. In 1936, he began contributing cartoons to Italian humor newspapers and soon became renowned for his visual wit. But, in 1938, with the institution of racial laws, he couldn’t believe “the betrayal,” as he put it. “Dearest Italy turned into Romania, hellish homeland,” he wrote in a 1995 letter to Aldo Buzzi. He then went through a bureaucratic ordeal to obtain the many papers needed to leave Italy. Following an aborted attempt to take the Portugal route, he was briefly interned, before managing to finally flee the country. He embarked for New York in 1941. The surreal documents contained in his masterpiece The Passport gain new poignancy in light of his struggle through the Fascist bureaucratic machine.


The Passport is incredible. One of my treasured books.

Saul Steinberg lookin’ PIMP! with his girlfriend, Ada Ongari, Milan, c. 1937-40.

From “Saul Steinberg’s Italian Years”:

Steinberg’s artistic persona began to take shape in Milan, where he arrived from his native Romania in 1933 to study architecture. In 1936, he began contributing cartoons to Italian humor newspapers and soon became renowned for his visual wit. But, in 1938, with the institution of racial laws, he couldn’t believe “the betrayal,” as he put it. “Dearest Italy turned into Romania, hellish homeland,” he wrote in a 1995 letter to Aldo Buzzi. He then went through a bureaucratic ordeal to obtain the many papers needed to leave Italy. Following an aborted attempt to take the Portugal route, he was briefly interned, before managing to finally flee the country. He embarked for New York in 1941. The surreal documents contained in his masterpiece The Passport gain new poignancy in light of his struggle through the Fascist bureaucratic machine.

The Passport is incredible. One of my treasured books.

Subscribe to my newsletter and get new art, writing, and interesting links delivered to your inbox every week.