James Joyce’s crayon edits of Ulysses.
FOR 40 YEARS, I was an editor, mostly of magazines, including this one. As an editor and as a reader, I found the story of how creators create irresistible. I liked that these stories had a classic structure to them—each inherently dramatic, starting with nothing and ending with something. I assigned a story on Stephen Sondheim in which he explained how he wrote a single song. I traced the evolutions of buildings and novels and soap-opera arcs. Cultural procedurals were especially good material. When I quit my magazine job, I decided to try my hand as an artist. It wasn’t entirely abrupt: In my work, I always found it satisfying telling stories in photographs and graphics and drawings, and in spare moments—a whim at first—I picked up a paintbrush to try making images myself. When I left my job, I began to paint more seriously. That was the beginning of my torment: I just wasn’t very good.
Decent paintings sometimes emerged, but they seemed almost by accident. And they were accidents I couldn’t necessarily re-create. I was conservative—if one part of a painting showed promise, I would protect it and put the rest of the painting at risk. Sometimes I could get something going and then tentatively feel emboldened to try something new and then fall back, and that would scare me—so I would retreat to what I knew, which meant resuming the bad habits. I got frustrated easily and gave up easily, never knowing when to persevere or surrender. You can see that these are all problems more of the head than of the hand (though there were plenty of technique issues as well). Basically, it all seemed impossible.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der April 8-21, 2024-Ausgabe von New York magazine.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der April 8-21, 2024-Ausgabe von New York magazine.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
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Trapped in Time
A woman relives the same day in a stunning Danish novel.
Polyphonic City
A SOFT, SHIMMERING beauty permeates the images of Mumbai that open Payal Kapadia's All We Imagine As Light. For all the nighttime bustle on display-the heave of people, the constant activity and chaos-Kapadia shoots with a flair for the illusory.
Lear at the Fountain of Youth
Kenneth Branagh's production is nipped, tucked, and facile.
A Belfast Lad Goes Home
After playing some iconic Americans, Anthony Boyle is a beloved IRA commander in a riveting new series about the Troubles.
The Pluck of the Irish
Artists from the Indiana-size island continue to dominate popular culture. Online, they've gained a rep as the \"good Europeans.\"
Houston's on Houston
The Corner Store is like an upscale chain for downtown scene-chasers.
A Brownstone That's Pink Inside
Artist Vivian Reiss's Murray Hill house of whimsy.
These Jeans Made Me Gay
The Citizens of Humanity Horseshoe pants complete my queer style.
Manic, STONED, Throttle, No Brakes
Less than six months after her Gagosian sölu show, the artist JAMIAN JULIANO-VILLAND lost her gallery and all her money and was preparing for an exhibition with two the biggest living American artists.
WHO EVER THOUGHT THAT BRIGHT PINK MEAT THAT LASTS FOR WEEKS WAS A GOOD IDEA?
Deli Meat Is Rotten