Margaret Hodge, Mrs. John B. Bayard (1780). Charles Willson Peale (American, 1741-1827). Oil on canvas. Milwaukee Art Museum.
Margaret was the mother of Margaret Bayard Smith (1778-1844), an American author of novels, short stories, and articles. Her literary reputation, however, comes primarily from a collection of her letters and notebooks written from 1800 to 1841 and published in 1906 by Gaillard Hunt as The First Forty Years of Washington Society.
Speak! Speak! (1895). Sir John Everett Millais (English, 1829-1896). Oil paint on canvas. Tate.
Millais’s son J.G. Millais, locates the scene in Ancient Rome: ‘It is that of a young Roman who has been reading through the night the letters of his lost love; and at dawn, behold, the curtains of his bed are parted, and there before him stands, in spirit or in truth, the lady herself, decked as on her bridal night, and gazing upon him with sad but loving eyes.’
My pal Tim Wu, a copyfighting attorney and law prof, is working on a new project to help authors retain control over their copyrights instead of assigning them to publishers, academic institutions, and other organizations, to stop copyrights from piling up into huge stockpiles controlled by greedy dinosaurs like the RIAA.
The Convalescent (1874). Jules Emile Santin (French, 1829-1894). Oil on canvas. Bury Art Gallery, Museum & Archives.
This work offers a glimpse of late nineteenth century French attitudes towards illness, interior design and what were considered suitable occupations for women, i.e., needlework, reading and music. A woman sits languidly in a chair with an open book on her lap. On the organ behind her is the musical notation for a piece of music entitled Primavera.
True dat.
Public Library
“Don’t give up. The best is yet to come.”
—Anonymous Fortune
After yesterday’s look at depression, I know I really needed this reminder.
Miquel Carbonell Selva – Sappho Leaping into the Sea (Safo llençant-se al mar) – (1881)
Depression Can Be Fatal
For me suicidal ideation has never come close to winning, because of people I love. So far. I never got to the point where it was stronger than love.
That’s the thing… it could. You never know.
That’s why treating depression is essential. Of course, it helps to have a social safety net that allows anyone to see a doctor, and enough doctors to see enough patients. I think if there weren’t such barriers and such stigma, more people would get help. For many a suicide attempt is the only way to get help.
Phèdre (1880). Alexandre Cabanel (French, 1823-1889. Oil on canvas. Musée Fabre.
Phèdre is a dramatic tragedy in five acts written in alexandrine verse by Jean Racine, first performed in 1677. Cabanel illustrates Phèdre in despair, as evidenced by her posture which, in addition to account for the dejection and guilt she feels, sublimates her legendary beauty. She who had hitherto always shown strength of character and dignity seems very fragile and vulnerable.
A Picture of Despair
For me, the single worst component of depression is despair.