Posts Tagged ‘Maira Kalman’
Introducing Our Fall Issue!
September 7, 2012 | by The Paris Review
We all hate to see summer end, but don’t despair: we bring you our Fall issue by way of consolation! And there’s so much to love.
James Fenton on journalism, shrimp farming, interior decoration, gardening, poetry, opera, and more:
What I had got from my teaching experience in the Midwest was a feeling for the enormous pressure on people in the poetry world to conform to an entirely negatively defined notion of poetry. It doesn’t rhyme, it doesn’t have any rhythm one might detect, and it isn’t written for the ear but rather the page. It seemed de-natured. These poets had forgotten the lips and the limbs, the dance, the whole bodily element—that had been banished. The manifesto was a piece of devil-may-care. It was actually anti-Iowa rather than anti-American.
Roberto Calasso on life, film, and publishing—Italian-style:
The publisher after all is considered, especially in Anglo-Saxon countries, a rather eccentric entrepreneur or impresario—a businessman in a very improbable field. But, if he is successful, then he is a good businessman. The author is the successor of the saint, everyone respects the author. So to put the two elements together is highly suspicious in a way, especially in the rather moralistic Protestant countries. In the Latin countries, less so.
Plus! Fiction by Jim Gavin, David Gordon, Ottessa Moshfegh, Peter Orner, and Sam Savage. Poetry by August Kleinzahler, George Seferis, Bernadette Mayer, Jason Zuzga, and Guillaume Apollinaire. A portfolio by Daniel Handler and Maira Kalman, and collages by Jess.
[tweetbutton]
[facebook_ilike]
Dogs, Scientologists, and Ipanema
July 24, 2012 | by Sadie Stein
Heloísa Eneida Menezes Paes Pinto, Ipanema
[tweetbutton]
[facebook_ilike]
Lunch Poems, Mixtapes, Beats
May 30, 2012 | by Sadie Stein
Maira Kalman
May 16, 2011 | by Daisy Atterbury
Photograph by Thessaly La Force.
Maira Kalman lives surrounded by chairs both life-size and miniature. Her studio is two floors below her West Village apartment, and it's filled with such objects as hair tufts from her beloved (and now late) dog Pete, puppets from the 1930s, and hats adorned with feathers from friends and admirers. I dropped in to chat about Maira’s first retrospective at the Jewish Museum and heard, among other things, about her love for Thomas Jefferson—unlike Abraham Lincoln, he’s apparently “not boyfriend material”—and her studio moss collection.
When I left college, I decided I wasn’t going to write anymore. I started out writing fiction, and I thought I would be a writer—it was something that I just always assumed when I was a little kid. I had a teacher who told me I was a good writer, and I loved writing. Then it became tormented, as it often does when you hit your teens. So I thought, I have to lighten up a little bit. And it was the age of New Wave and punk, and there was a whole new era of illustration going on. So, I started to draw.
Kalman’s desk, where she paints. Photograph by Thessaly La Force.
