Author: Stacy Horn

There must be something to do when a Supreme Court justice goes off the deep end. These words of his should get him removed, there has to be some minimum standard, like racists not allowed, due to the monumental conflict of interest:

“There are those who contend that it does not benefit African-Americans to get them into the University of Texas, where they do not do well,” Scalia said, “as opposed to having them go to a less-advanced school … a slower-track school where they do well.”

An interesting change I’ve discovered about aging. My favorite museum to go to is the Met, for sheer variety. Whatever I’m in the mood for is there in some form or another. But it used to be there were tons of pockets that were boring to me. I’ve noticed though that over the years less is boring to me. Now, pretty much everything is of interest.

Like this thing. I didn’t write down what it is or where it came from and of course I’ve forgotten, the other side of aging. But I walked around it, fascinated. Look at that little guy climbing up the … whatever it’s called.

First, I didn’t get any closer to the tree at Rockefeller Center, because crowds.

Second, as I said before, I wasn’t blown away the windows I was passing by as I walked up Fifth Avenue. So I spent some time photographing other people looking at the windows.

I enjoyed the ones where they decorated the entire building, like Harry Winston’s. There was actually more going on than I show here. Every window going up to the roof was decorated.

Tiffany’s always does a good job. Instead of going for pizazz, they build these small, charming tableaus, which are Nutcracker-magical.

My other favorite was Bergdorf Goodman’s windows, for the color, drama and sparkle.

My last shot is at Barney’s, where they had a guy making ice sculptures right there in the window. Unfortunately I arrived when he was cleaning up after the last one and I was too impatient to wait for the next one.

I’ve been meaning to make this point for a while.

In an effort to crush Obama and prevent him for being effective, the republicans have been chipping away at him in a way that has slowly eroded respect for the office of the President of the United States. They started this with Clinton, but they pulled out all stops with Obama. The moment when one of them shouted out “liar” when Obama was speaking indicated all gloves were coming off.

The thing is, by wearing away at the respect for the office, that made attaining this position viable for clowns like Trump. They are the ones who made it a joke and so jokers can run.

An old friend of mine, John Heartfield, posing in front of some of the artwork of his grandfather, dadaist John Heartfield, at the Neue Galerie. Heartfield is most known for his political art during the Nazi period in Germany, artwork which landed him at number five on the Gestapo’s most-wanted list. It’s an astounding show and it’s coming down on January 4th. See it while you can!

I’m going to put my Christmas windows pictures up tomorrow, and by the way, the windows were kinda eh this year. What’s the deal New York City vendors??

But I stopped into the Met afterwards, and I came across this effigy to Elizabeth Boott Duveneck. I wrote about her father, the composer Francis Boott, in my singing book and I knew this effigy was made but I somehow had no idea it was in New York. (This is a cast made from the original, which is on her grave in Italy.) Had I seen this I’m sure I would have written that chapter a little differently

Elizabeth was in my book too, because her death so devastated her father. She was his whole world in many ways. Boott’s wife died when Elizabeth was only 18 months old and so he raised her (in Italy). “Old dwellers in Florence grew familiar with the sight of the handsome American carrying his daughter on his arm while she was still an infant, and afterward with her always at his side.” Father and daughter make an appearance in two novels of Henry James (the James family and the Boott family were friends). But then in a horrible reoccurrence of what happened to her mother, she died in 1888, two years after having a child herself.

Her husband, the painter Frank Duveneck was crushed by her death too of course, and he never quite got over losing her. I just read in Wikipedia, “A life-size bronze statue depicting Duveneck holding a plaque with his wife’s picture on it stands in a small park at the intersection of Pike and Washington streets in Covington, Kentucky.” (He died in 1919.)

I’m not entirely sure what I would have written differently, it’s just that Frank’s love and pain and grief and devotion is just so palpable in this effigy. I would have tried to somehow capture that. So sad.

Wow. The Met has a couple of podcasts about this statue! YIKES. I just learned that some scholars think she committed suicide! I never came across this information while I was doing my research. A lot of people are fascinated by the relationships between her and Frank and her father. If you google her a lot comes up. (More than what came up when I was doing my research!)

I’m heading out to walk up Fifth Avenue to look at and photograph the Christmas windows. If I have time I’ll drop into the Metropolitan Museum to sneak a picture of the tree, and then it’s on to meet an old friend at the Neue Galerie. If all goes well I’ll be back here with tons of fun pictures!

Here are a couple of pictures from the Loser’s Lounge last Saturday, when they did a tribute to the Brill Building. It was one of the best Loser’s Lounges EVER, so it they ever do it again, do not miss it.

This first one is from the last song of the night, Christmas. Everyone was bathed in red light.

The is Alyson Greenfield, who played something called an omnichord. I loved the sound of it, although I’m not sure this version was an entire success. Alyson was great as always, of course.