No Piano Is An Island, Sometimes
I noticed the below scene early this morning. It made me appreciate our old player piano for the role it plays as a staging ground for various New Yorker things (books, art) that have yet to find their proper place around the house.
All of those bound New Yorkers need a better place (they’re mostly from the 1930s-1940s, with a few volumes from other decades sprinkled in). One of my favorite newly framed things is sitting on the ledge above the keys, to the right of the Peter Arno sketch of the woman with the beach hat. It’s a list of the magazine’s artists in the 1940s, with individuals put into categories. At the very top in the “Special” section are Arno, Helen Hokinson, and Gluyas Williams. Books, art or letters by all three of those artists just happen to be on the piano. Another coincidence: the Charles Barsotti New Yorker original bearing the window sign “Al’s Tavern” to the far right of the ledge is joined in this scene by my stepfather’s art deco naked woman holding an ash tray. The statue always sat right next to my stepfather’s chair in our living room. My step-father’s name was Al…and he owned a tavern.