It’s the one with the fake hair.
Robert Patrick in Terminator 2 and a famous rapist.
Terminator 2 is always a fun watch, but the imminent incarceration of Pig will be better. His greatest rĂ´le.
It’s the one with the fake hair.
Terminator 2 is always a fun watch, but the imminent incarceration of Pig will be better. His greatest rĂ´le.
Fadeaway.
For an index of articles on art illustrators, click here.
One of the special artists of the golden age of American illustration was Coles Phillips (1880-1927), remembered for his ‘Fadeaway’ images where the model’s dress would be the same color as the background, hence ‘Fadeaway’. A contemporary of J C Leyendecker his illustrations are distinguished by the lovely young women used to sell dresses, cosmetics, kitchen hardware, you name it. And those images are exquisite:
I can find only one monograph of his work out there:
Phillips’s work is obviously not aimed at the grubby masses, yearning to breathe free (or, at least, hoping for a cheap seat in the bleachers). These women have gone the way of true capitalists, and have married well.
While 250 would have been more like it, the slim book has 83 beautifully reproduced full page images of Phillips’s work and is highly recommended for all lovers of great illustration.
For an index of articles on art illustrators, click here.
An outstanding illustrator.
For an index of articles on art illustrators, click here.
The House of Kuppenheimer, alert and responsive to every tendency,
has caught this new spirit in a remarkable way.
The styles are for the new American figure, upright posture, slender waist and
full chest. Fabrics, patterns and tailoring are such as to again justify
the reputation of the best tailored young men’s clothes in America.
House of Kuppenheimer ad text, March 8, 1919.
The Chicago men’s clothing store of B. Kuppenheimer, the creation of Bernard Kuppenheimer in 1876, folded in 1997 when starched collars and creased trousers gave way to torn tee shirts and tattoos. During much of its early years Kuppenheimers resorted to the art work of J C Leyendecker of New York to help sell its clothing and the art Leyendecker provided was never less than exceptional.
The supremely elegant models, Borzoi included, are rendered in strong brushstrokes reminiscent of Van Gogh or the Fauves, the gazes direct, the composition tight.
While marketing increasingly turned to photography for its images after WWII – cheaper, more choice for editors – the era of style and class created by illustrators prior to that time has rarely been equaled in photographs. And certainly the period work of Leyendecker has not been matched.
Little is known or remembered of the artist today, who lived from 1874 to 1951. There is one splendid monograph on his work at Amazon:
There is some unadulterated BS about how Leyendecker’s homosexuality infused his imagery. Utter nonsense. Look for yourself.
Leyendecker illustrated hundreds of Saturday Evening Post covers (322, to be exact, one more than Rockwell) and his successor, Norman Rockwell, copied many of the themes, though the target demographic was poorer and lower. Populism replaced sophistication. All of Leyendecker’s 322 SEP covers are reproduced in the book.
Other prominent Leyendecker clients include Arrow collars and shirts (pretty much defunct by acquisition in 2004) and Interwoven Socks, now owned by an Italian conglomerate.
Feast your eyes on Leyendecker’s work for these manufacturers:
These are mostly from the Roaring Twenties.
These images harken back to a world when young men attended the Ivy League, their future spouses went to Bryn Mawr, legacy admissions were the done thing and equality had yet to rear its ugly head.
Enjoy.
A Zeiss masterpiece.
The German Bauhaus architecture movement ran through the 1950s and had a singular focus on function over form. You can get a sense of it from the Bauhaus building in Dessau, though why architect Walter Gropius felt compelled to add the name of the movement to the building remains a mystery (and the ‘S’ is too small!):
The windows are large, the design is largely one of right angles and the mass production aspect of the parts is self evident.
What has this to do with the Zeiss Ikon Contax IIa which was manufactured between 1950-60? Well, this supremely elegant camera first saw the light of day as the pre-war Contax II about which I wrote a decade ago. The Bauhaus influence on the design is writ large.
The Contax II was introduced in 1936 and bombed out of existence by the Allies in the second world war. The IIa was an improved model with aluminum replacing the fragile brass slats of the roller blind vertically traveling focal plane shutter. Further, the film counter was integrated into the advance knob rather than having a separate top plate window. The rangefinder base length was shortened slightly and the overall quality went up.
And when you pick up a IIa the overwhelming impression is one of mass – it’s heavy for its small size – and quality of construction and finish. Everything is tight, the engraving and knurling are to die for and it feels right in the hand. And the clean lines clearly show the Bauhaus influence on the original design, carried on after the war.
Why buy a 75 year old rangefinder camera with no automation, no digital sensor and using film? Because it is an object of engineering beauty and joins other of its ilk on display in the home theater. In addition to many classic movie posters, that room displays a Bolex H16 16mm film camera, an ancient Weston Master selenium cell meter, a period Bell & Howell 16mm film projector, a Goldberg 35mm film reel and an antique candlestick phone. The Contax, like all of those, is in perfect working order.
Kubrick lives!
iPhone 12 Pro Max, Snapseed.