How the Hudson River
School Became America’s First Art Movement by Jessica Stewart During the 19th century, a group of American
painters dedicated themselves to cultivating a style that would have its roots
in the New World, rather than looking back to Europe. Inspired by the untamed landscape of their
surroundings and filled with ideas of exploration, these landscape painters helped create what
is now known as the Hudson River School. In
these landscapes, the environment is filled with drama and emotion. The wide, expansive spaces are dappled with
warm color, as depictions of man are eschewed in favor of the terrain. From 1825 until its popularity began to
decline around 1870, the group of artists associated with these heroic
landscapes helped shape the way we view early America. The movement
was given its name retrospectively, though there’s a debate on whether it was
art critic Clarence Cook or artist Homer Dodge Martin who first used the
term. Initially, it was a disparaging
name, meant to trivialize the work of these artists who had fallen out of
fashion in favor of the French Barbizon School.
While the name Hudson River School comes from the fact that early
paintings depicted the Hudson River Valley and its surroundings, later work
includes locations in the American West, New England, and even South
America. Thomas Cole, who is generally
known as the father of the movement, spent a significant amount of time in the
area after taking a steamboat up the Hudson in 1825. From there, he hiked the Catskills and the
resulting paintings are the first landscapes of the area. Once Cole died in 1848, the mantel was taken
up by a second generation of painters who expanded the locations of the
landscapes. By the time the Centennial
was celebrated in 1876, the Hudson River School’s popularity was
declining. Popular taste was turning
toward France, where intimate landscapes were taking hold. Gone were the days where the monumental,
larger-than-life paintings of Church and Bierstadt garnered crowds. After World War I, the style saw a slight
revival when the country was undergoing a period of extreme national
pride. Today, the Hudson River School is
recognized for its importance in developing a native art culture in
America. The Hudson River Valley prides
itself on being the home of this movement, and it’s possible to visit Thomas
Cole’s home and hike the areas that inspired his evocative landscapes. See many illustrations at https://mymodernmet.com/hudson-river-school/
A #1 New York Times
bestselling author, Gregg Olsen has written ten nonfiction books, ten novels,
and contributed a short story to a collection edited by Lee Child. The award-winning author has been a guest on
dozens of national and local television shows, including educational programs
for the History Channel, Learning Channel, and Discovery Channel. He has also appeared on Good Morning America,
The Early Show, The Today Show, FOX News; CNN, Anderson Cooper 360, MSNBC,
Entertainment Tonight, CBS 48 Hours, Oxygen’s Snapped, Court TV’s Crier Live,
Inside Edition, Extra, Access Hollywood, and A&E’s Biography. In addition to television and radio
appearances, the award-winning author has been featured in Redbook, USA Today,
People, Salon magazine, Seattle Times, Los Angeles Times and the New York
Post. The Deep Dark was named Idaho Book
of the Year by the ILA and Starvation Heights was honored by Washington’s
Secretary of State for the book’s contribution to Washington state history and
culture. Find a
list of Gregg Olsen’s books at https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15035.Gregg_Olsen
All pepitas are pumpkin
seeds, but that doesn’t mean that all pumpkin seeds are pepitas. Pepitas are a type of pumpkin seed from certain
varieties of pumpkin, such as Lady Godiva or the Naked Bear. These pumpkins produce a “naked seed,” which
is a hulled seed that is lighter and nuttier than a traditional pumpkin seed. If you try to hull your jack-o-lantern
pumpkins seeds, you will not find a pepita inside. Pepitas are more versatile in the kitchen
than traditional pumpkin seeds since they’re not as tough. They aren’t just for garnishing butternut
squash soup. Use them to make pesto, as
a crust for meat or fish, as a topping on muffins, mixed into granola, baked
into focaccia bread or made into brittle.
Pepitas make a great snack all on their own. They’re full of heart-healthy fats, protein,
fiber and iron. Store in an airtight
container for up to 3 months. If storing
for longer, refrigerate or freeze for up to 12 months. Posted by Jenna Smith Find recipe for Pepita Crusted Tilapia at https://extension.illinois.edu/blogs/simply-nutritious-quick-and-delicious/2019-10-11-mysterious-pumpkin-seed
Michael Ondaatje was born in Sri Lanka on 12 September
1943. He moved to England in 1954, and
in 1962 moved to Canada where he has lived ever since. He was educated at the University of Toronto
and Queen's University in Kingston, Ontario, and began teaching at York
University in Toronto in 1971. He
published a volume of memoir, Running in the Family, in 1983. His collections of poetry include The
Collected Works of Billy the Kid: Left
Handed Poems (1981), which won the Canadian Governor General's Award in
1971; The Cinnamon Peeler: Selected
Poems (1989); and Handwriting: Poems (1998). His first novel, Coming Through
Slaughter (1976), is a fictional portrait of jazz musician Buddy
Bolden. The English Patient (1992), set in Italy at the end of the
Second World War, was joint winner of the Booker Prize for Fiction and was made
into an Academy Award-winning film in 1996. Anil's Ghost (2000), set
in Sri Lanka, tells the story of a young female anthropologist investigating
war crimes for an international human rights group. Michael Ondaatje lives in Toronto with his
wife, Linda Spalding, with whom he edits the literary journal Brick. His recent novels include Divisadero (2007), The
Cat's Table (2011) and Warlight (2018). See bibliography and list of awards at https://literature.britishcouncil.org/writer/michael-ondaatje
In
addition to writing novels, plays, and poetry collections, Michael Ondaatje has
edited several books, including The Faber Book of Contemporary
Canadian Short Stories (1990). His memoir, Running in the Family (1982), complements stories
about his family with poems and photographs.
He has also written books of nonfiction, including The Conversations: Walter
Murch and the Art of Film Editing (2002), which was highly
praised by reviewers for its insight into the creative process. Both Ondaatje and Murch, who has worked with
Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas, talk about the task of revealing hidden
themes and patterns in existing creative works.
As Ondaatje noted in an interview with Maclean’s,
editing—whether of film or one’s written work, is “the only place where you’re
on your own. Where you can be one person
and govern it. The only time you control
making a movie is in the editing stage.”
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/michael-ondaatje
How Did Writers Survive
the First Great Depression? by Jason
Boog April 20, 2020 When the stock
market crashed in 2008, the offices closed at the legal publication where I
worked. I lost my benefits, my office
space, and my security, all in a single meeting. I holed up in the New York University Bobst
Library for a couple of weeks as a freelance writer, scribbling reports and
watching my health insurance expire. I
was a single speck in a national catastrophe for writers. According to the Department of Labor, the
printing and traditional publishing sector shed well over 134,000 jobs during
the Great Recession. This was part of a
much larger set of losses as digital technology disrupted traditional
publishing. Between 1998 and 2013, the
book publishing industry lost 21,000 jobs, periodical publishing cut 56,000
jobs, and the newspaper industry shed a staggering 217,000 jobs. After my old job folded, I camped out on the
seventh floor of the library, tucked away among the American Literature
shelves. I started looking for clues on
how writers survived the Great Depression. In the stacks, I found You Can’t Sleep Here, a novel written in 1932 by a
20-year-old Hungarian immigrant named Edward Newhouse. His book tells the story of a young newspaper
reporter fired during the early days of the Great Depression who sleeps in a
tent city along the East River and who showers in a bathroom at the New York
Public Library. The reporter paces up
and down the side of Central Park at sunrise, hoping to get the first look at
the want ads before thousands of other unemployed people. “I had to walk till 55th Street before one of
the newsstand men would let me look into the want ads.” We officially emerged from our nationwide recession in
2009, but the situation facing contemporary writers has not changed. The newspaper and magazine jobs that
disappeared were never replaced. The
bookstore chain Borders closed for good in 2011, erasing nearly 10,700
bookselling jobs. The American Library
Association noted that 55 percent of urban libraries, 36 percent of suburban
libraries, and 26 percent of rural libraries cut their budgets in 2011. In the same survey, librarians said that
job-search services were most in demand at the library, but that 56 percent of
the libraries didn’t have enough resources to meet the demand. When Franklin Roosevelt took office in
March 1933, his inaugural address blamed failed banking leadership, unjust
distribution of national resources, and ruthless businessmen for the Great
Depression. He made an urgent plea that
still resonates in our own time: The
rulers of the exchange of mankind’s goods have failed, through their own
stubbornness and their own incompetence, have admitted their failure, and
abdicated. Practices of the unscrupulous
money changers stand indicted in the court of public opinion, rejected by the
hearts and minds of men. True they have tried,
but their efforts have been cast in the pattern of an outworn tradition. Faced by failure of credit they have proposed
only the lending of more money. Stripped of the lure of profit by which to
induce our people to follow their false leadership, they have resorted to
exhortations, pleading tearfully for restored confidence. They know only the rules of a generation of
self-seekers. They have no vision, and
when there is no vision the people perish.
The line which is remembered from Roosevelt’s speech today is, “The only
thing we have to fear is fear itself,” but the president also called for new
business ethics, job reform, and redistribution of resources. Newhouse deconstructed the world around him,
rewriting his own career as he took part in historic events. But he was also part of a larger literary
movement. Before the Great Depression,
Mike Gold called on writers at The New Masses to
produce a new kind of fiction, an idea he labeled “proletarian literature.” In his essay, he described the range of work
he hoped to include: letters from
hoboes, peddlers, small town atheists, unfrocked clergymen and schoolteachers. Everyone has a great tragicomic story to tell.
Almost everyone in America feels
oppressed and wants to speak out somewhere. Tell us your story. It is sure to be significant … Let America
know the heart and mind of its workers. His
letter to readers spawned an entire literary movement. In The Radical Novel in the United
States, the literary scholar Walter Rideout counted 70 such novels
published between 1930 and 1939. Almost
all these novels have been forgotten today, but Rideout’s book counted novels
by Henry Roth, Josephine Herbst, James Farrell, and Richard Wright. For a few years during the Great Depression,
Newhouse’s You Can’t Sleep Here became
one of the most well-known examples of the genre, though the book has been out
of print ever since. https://lithub.com/how-did-writers-survive-the-first-great-depression/
A couple of fun reading
suggestions: The Cockroaches of Staymore
by Donald Harington; Mistress Masham’s Repose by T.H. White; any of the “Lucia”
novels by E.F. Benson. Thank you, Muse
reader!
April 22 is Earth Day; Administrative Professionals Day in
various countries (2020) Wikipedia
http://librariansmuse.blogspot.com Issue 2258
April 22, 2020
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