anatole broyard*

this article today in the new york times on anatole broyard has sparked an obsession...

(from "is race obsolete? a move to change racial designations in the us census underscores some prickly questions about who we are" by seth schiesel & robert l. turner, the boston globe, sept. 22, 1996)

"when anatole broyard was born, in new orleans in 1920, his race was identified as "negro," the same as that of all his ancestors, on both sides of the family, for more than a century. but, along the way, something curious happened: as henry louis gates jr. described it in the new yorker this year, broyard 'was born black and became white.'

broyard, the late literary critic of the new york times, was light-skinned; gradually, he shed acknowledgment of his racial heritage as he rose to prominence in new york social and cultural circles. he often succeeded. he married a white woman, and for many years he did not tell their children about his racial background. indeed, he introduced his children to his light-skinned sister but never let them meet his other sister, who had darker skin."

he was also the inspiration behind the protagonist coleman silk in philip roth's enthralling novel the human stain. the article has me scouring the internet for any and all mentions of this fascinating man and his story, and more so, thinking about the more complicated (though obvious) question of race...what does it mean to be "black" or "white" and what does that do to the identity of "mixed race" people (everyone, of course, being "mixed race" to some degree)...

(from "the passing of anatole broyard" by henry louis gates):

"to pass is to sin against authenticity, and "authenticity" is among the founding lies of the modern age. the philosopher charles taylor summarizes its ideology thus: "there is a certain way of being human that is my way. i am called upon to live my life in this way, and not in imitation of anyone else's life. but the notion gives a new importance to being true to myself. if i am not, i miss the point of my life; i miss what being human is for me." and the romantic fallacy of authenticity is only compounded when it is collectivized: when the putative real me gives way to the real us. you can say that anatole broyard was (by any juridical reckoning) "really" a negro, without conceding that a negro is a thing you can really be. the vagaries of racial identity were increased by what anthropologists call the rule of "hypodescent"—the one-drop rule. when those of mixed ancestry—and the majority of blacks are of mixed ancestry— disappear into the white majority, they are traditionally accused of running from their "blackness." yet why isn't the alternative a matter of running from their "whiteness"? to emphasize these perversities, however, is a distraction from a larger perversity. you can't get race "right" by refining the boundary conditions."

kafka was the rage: a greenwich village memoir. by anatole broyard (new york times review)
kafka was the rage review by lee lady
back when skin color was destiny — unless you passed for white by brent staples

lyn lifshin*

"there is so much i want to do, see, read. it’s not that i feel i’ve wasted time but that i want to do too much."
















lyn's website

gerda taro*

gerda taro (1910-1937) was a pioneering photojournalist whose brief career consisted almost exclusively of dramatic photographs from the front lines of the spanish civil war. she died the day after being severely wounded on the front, when a Republican tank collided with her car during the retreat from the battle of brunete.









a wartime photographer in her own light: from the new york times

marvin israel*

a footnote in art history.
a giant in the minds of artists such as richard avedon, diane arbus, lisette model & lee friedlander. he brought out what they could not see in themselves and made them believe what he saw. he was a painter, teacher of graphics & photography at rhode island and parsons schools of design & an editorial art director at legendary harper's bazaar.

~*~*~*golden.animals*~*~*~

from golden union in v magazine:

In a slightly crushed top hat and a buttoned peasant shirt, Tommy Eisner could easily be peddling snake oil. Sitting beside Linda Beecroft, 26—a striking, tall drummer whose blonde tresses tumble past her shoulders like a Victorian heroine—the two cut anachronistic figures even in a corner of an East Village coffee shop.
But the 23-year-old singer/guitarist for vaudevillian blues-folk two-piece Golden Animals isn’t shilling remedies—he’s extolling the virtues of MySpace, the main outlet by which the band has introduced a sound that’s as colorfully nostalgic as its wardrobe. Golden Animals’ carefully crafted songs recall the Beatles and Blind Lemon Jefferson. The pair set romantic slice-of-life lyrics to jazzily strummed guitars and simple, stompy drums that wouldn’t sound misplaced crackling through an old gramophone. The couple even met the old-fashioned way: on a Brooklyn street the night Swedish Beecroft arrived from Paris. “I stopped her,” recalls Eisner, who relocated from Baltimore to Williamsburg in 2003. “That proves it’s rewarding to be bold. I have no idea how I had the balls to do it that night.” The pair immediately connected and began traveling the world together; Eisner would perform folk songs on their journeys. But after Beecroft jokingly joined him on drums one night in their home studio, they realized the extent of their good fortune. “We played a show four days later,” Beecroft says. “Which went a lot better than all of my solo shows,” Eisner adds.

golden animals on myspace

golden animals on happy recordings

dick & mimi*

he was so cool even the king of cool, bob dylan, copied his style. he wrote the book that captured the very moment the uptight 1950s became the free-wheelin' 1960s. two days after the publication of that landmark novel, been down so long it looks like up to me, richard fariña was thrown from the back of a motorcycle and killed instantly. he lives on in his words and music.

http://www.richardandmimi.com/

thomas pynchon on richard

realms of the unreal*

i am sure most people know about him by now, but i still remember the first time i heard about him. years ago, i was in a bar in nyc and i was chatting with a few acquaintances. somehow the conversation turned to this recluse who had created a 15,000 page book complete with beautiful elaborate drawings. who ever it was that was telling the story could not remember the man's name. i kept repeating the story to people hoping that someone would be able to tell me his name so that i could further research this fascinating character. i do not remember how, but i finally discovered his name. his name is henry darger.

wut 2 reed.

deciding what book to read next can sometimes take me a few days. i have to shake off the mood i am in from the finished book and alter my mindset to begin another journey.

here are some of the titles i have in mind for my next read (continuing with my theme of creative women)...

a little original sin: the life & work of jane bowles

by millicent dillon

chanel: a woman of her own

by axel madsen

anne sexton: a biography

by diane middlebrook

...any recommendations???

astrid*

german photographer and artist astrid kirchherr met stuart sutcliffe in a bar in hamburg in 1960. stuart was playing bass in a little known band called the silver beatles.

"every magazine and newspaper wanted me to photograph the beatles again. or they wanted my old stuff, even if it was out of focus, whether they were nice or not. they wouldn't look at my other work. it was very hard for a girl photographer in the 60s to be accepted. in the end i gave up. i've hardly taken a photo since 1967."

astrid on wikipedia

interview with astrid

stuart on wikipedia

where are they now?

in serendipitous fashion, i found this link to a 2005 where are they now? type article about the above Diane Arbus photos