An Addams Rarity on Attempted Bloggery

Here’s something new to my eyes. Posted this morning on Stephen Nadler’s Attempted Bloggery: a brochure for an exhibit of Addams work at the National Academy of Design in the Fall of 1991. Mr. Nadler informs us:  “…in more than a quarter century since the show, no one else has posted this leaflet on the internet…so I thought I’d take the liberty.” See the entire piece here (it includes an essay by Adam Gopnik and a short intro by the exhibit’s curator, Barbara Nicholls).

Many Moons Ago At The New Yorker

A departure this Sunday from previous Sundays in that the book above contains only New Yorker covers, and zero cartoons. However, of the thirty-six cover artists represented in the book, twenty-eight also contributed cartoons. This seemingly lop-sided representation of the magazine’s cartoonists doubling as cover artists was not at all out of the ordinary in the pre-Tina Brown days (Ms. Brown inverted the cartoonist/strictly-cover artist ratio, reducing the percentage of cartoonists on the cover to a minimum. Non-contributing cartoonists have been in a wide majority since).   

The book, published in 1984 by United Technologies Corporation, with the heavy lifting done by the National Academy of Design, is a must have for any library stocked with New Yorker collections. It’s a coffee table book that doesn’t need a coffee table (measuring 10″ x 13″, but just 160 pages).

The folks at the National Academy did a splendid job of designing the book, taking great care to present us with not only the covers as they appeared as New Yorker covers, but full page, sans New Yorker logo. The book is divided into the four seasons; the only non-seasonal cover is the magazine’s very first (by the incomparable Rea Irvin) beautifully reproduced on the page just before we enter Spring. 

The bonus material is right up front of the book.  Two introductory pieces: Brendan Gill’s “A morning light” and Charles Saxon‘s “A special moment, fleetingly observed.”

A declaration of interest from Mr. Gill:

“There is…no such thing as a New Yorker cover…If one can say there is no such thing as a New Yorker cover, one can at least say that there are three or four types of art work that appear with considerable frequency on the covers of The New Yorker: those that are purely decorative, those that are topical or seasonal, and those that contain a mild satiric swipe or possibly a small, covert joke.”

My my, how times have changed.  The are still “three or four types of art work” but covers that “contain a mildly satiric swipe” are now a thing of the past.

And from Charles Saxon, another that was then declarative:

“Artists are invited to submit their work. Nothing is assigned, nothing is directed. The work is welcomed or it is not.”

 

 

On a personal note, I was just into my seventh year as a New Yorker contributor when I received an invitation to attend the gallery exhibit of some of the covers in the book. Here’s a very short excerpt about my visit to the opening from my still in-the-works/ongoing New Yorker journal.  At the time I was living in upstate New York after having somewhat recently moved from Greenwich Village.

May 31, 1984

Perhaps missing some of Manhattan’s hubbub, I decided to attend the Seasons At the New Yorker opening at the National Academy of Design on 5th Avenue hard by Central Park — new-ish territory for me, other than my infrequent visits to the Metropolitan Museum. I was half-a-block from the party when I noticed the New Yorker writer Brendan Gill holding court out on the sidewalk. He was wearing a dark suit and looked to be holding a glass of champagne. 5th Avenue! Champagne! Brendan Gill! THE Brendan Gill — the man whose book, Here At the New Yorker helped drive me to this magazine. The idea of introducing myself to him that evening was out of the question: just to be here at this party was more than enough excitement.  

Surveying the crowd as I walked into the gallery I immediately felt out-of-place — I was dressed casually, in sneakers, jeans, a faded red shirt and a thrift shop seersucker jacket. Everyone else  was dressed, as my mother would say “to the hilt.”

After rounding the exhibition looking at the framed covers, I sat down for a moment on a circular stuffed sofa next to a very nice woman, somewhat older than me.  After some initial pleasantries, I discovered that she had been married to Robert Kraus, a former New Yorker cartoonist (and later owner and editor in chief of his own publishing house, Windmill Press, publishers of William Steig’s children’s books).

Eventually I made one more pass around the gallery space and found myself walking into the New Yorker’s art editor, Lee Lorenz and his (then) wife. I knew Lee wouldn’t know me by sight — we’d only met once before, but I thought it would be silly not to speak with my editor. As I suspected, Lee looked confused and slightly unhappy when I walked up to him, but was relieved and seemingly amused when I told him my name. Lee looked me over and said, “You look like an ice cream salesman.”  And perhaps following up on the theme, his wife said, “Oh, you’re the one who does all the ice cream cartoons.” My self-confidence at once damaged and lifted, I made small talk, then drifted back out to 5th avenue, and back upstate.

Below: From the Spill‘s files, the invitation (my friend, Jack Ziegler didn’t call me the “boy archivist” for nuthin).

 

 

 

J.C. Suares: 1942 – 2013

 

images-3Suares:Nyer cover

Jean-Claude Suares, who died this past July 30, in Englewood, New Jersey, is best known for his work apart from The New Yorker (see the various links below that cover his life and career), but I will always happily associate his name with the one and only New Yorker cover he did (it appeared September 23, 1974).  I remember Mr. Suares’  cover not so much  as it appeared on the New Yorker, but as the book cover for the 1984 exhibit, Seasons at The New Yorker: Six Decades of Cover Art, produced in conjunction with the National Academy of Art.

 

Walking up Fifth Avenue on the way to my first gallery opening as a New Yorker contributor, I neared the entrance to The National Academy, and spotted Brendan Gill out on the sidewalk with a few other gallery-goers. Dressed in suit and tie, and holding a glass of champagne, he was merrily laughing along with his friends.   It was a scene seemingly ripped right out of a William Hamilton New Yorker cartoon. Mr. Suares’ cover will always  encapsulate, for me, New York City and The New Yorker  on a most memorable day.

 

Link to Steven Heller’s “Memories of JC (Jean-Claude Suares)” from Print, August 8, 2013.

Link to Steven Heller’s August 5, 2013 New York Times obit, “Jean-Claude Suares, 71, a Daring  Times Op-Ed Artist”

Link to the North Jersey. com obit, “Jean Claude Suares of Harrington Park, illustrator and graphic designer, dies at 71”

Link to Mr. Suares’ website.