Land art--art in an outdoor, not otherwise man-made setting, using only natural found local materials and found objects as tools, intentionally not fashioned to be permanent. Practitioners include Robert Smithson, Ayala Reznik, Andy Goldsworthy, John Foreman, and many others. Some land art feels like it blends into the natural world; some feels like the artifice of the creator is more apparent.

How distinctive are rooftops? Could you look at an urban roofscape and identify the city it came from? Today's print shows the rooftops of Paris. When I look at this image, I'm pretty certain it's not NYC. Could it be another American city? I don't know for sure, but my gut says it's a bit old-fashioned and a little bit different in style than most American city rooftop views.

Jeanette Pasin Sloan went to art school and got her MFA in art history, then started parenting young children. As an art historian, she hadn't done much art creation. She started trying to paint, and painted in the kitchen while her children slept. She practiced by painting objects in the kitchen, trying her best to render them accurately and realistically. When she worked her way around to a toaster, she noticed that its chrome surface had interesting reflections of things around it.

Today's image of an art dealer's stockroom resonated for me not only because I liked how it looked, but because of several books about art dealers I've enjoyed--some recently, some years ago. Recent fact: Get the Picture (by Bianca Bosker). A journalist became obsessed with why art matters--why artists make art, why collectors acquire art, why museums display art, and why dealers sell art (hint: not primarily to make money).

Some of the twentieth century printmakers focused on realistic depctions (Stow Wengenroth, for example). Today's print is a more whimsical approach, evoking motion, and perhaps even personality? Does the end of the train suggest a face to you? We saw the work of this artist (Benton Spruance) once before, showing contrasting visions out the windshield of a car and in the rear view mirror.

The history of Okinawa and other nearby islands is fascinating. There was a common language in this area, related to but distinct from and mutually unintelligible with Japanese. There were shifting sovreignties within this area through the late 14th century, when the Ming dynasty in China forced the Okinawan realms to join the Chinese tributary system. In 1609, during the Tokugawa shogunate, mainland Japanese forces invaded Okinawa and partially integrated the Okinawan kingdoms into the Japanese feudal hierarchy, while they continued to pay tribute to China.

John P. Heins (I include his middle initial to avoid people getting him mixed up with a British painter called John no-middle-initial Heins) is a print artist I've shared a few times. I wouldn't call his work the most novel ever, but the pieces I've shared have been interesting and I'm glad I picked them, even in retrospect. Today's image, of course, is also by Heins, and I chose to share it because of the very interesting way he pictured the clouds and sky.

Door knockers are the lower-tech antecdent and alternative to door bells. Who would've thought there were so many beautiful and interesting designs for door knockers? I posted a photo of an antique knocker (in the shape of the Hand of Fatima) just over a year ago which I took myself. My good friend, talented photorgrapher David Harlow, took several photos of interesting knockers when on vacation in Guatemala, which I am pleased to show you today. Door knockers (Photos, 2025) by David Harlow

Fearful comparisons of our current governmental evolution to the mid-20th century rise of fascism and Nazism are common. I thought it might be interesting to see some of the artistic response of that era. Arthur Szyk was a Polish-Jewish artist who (fortunately for him) was living "temporarily" in France and then Britain leading up to WW2, and then came to the US during the war.

Eyvind Earle, the former Disney artist, has many non-Disney artworks which center or prominently feature trees. Interestingly, they tend to come in two varieties. In one version, the crown/canopy of leaves extends downwards to envelop a large fraction of the trunk. In the other, exemplified by today's oil painting, the trunks are long unbroken expanses with a smaller, seemingly separate crown, at the top.

Last year, I reflected on the history of Thanksgiving and how many Native Americans (understandably!) view it as a day of mourning rather than a holiday. Today, I went looking for suitable art by indigenous peoples of North America, and found this poster of an oil painting by Ka'ilah Farrell-Smith, a member of the Klamath/Modoc nation. This is yet another shameful chapter in US history.

More and more photographers have been capturing fantastic photos of various kinds of water splashes using very fast exposures--ranging from macro (water balloon bursting) to micro (a single water droplet hits the surface of some water). We've seen a few of these already, and I'm sharing another on the micro scale today. This is the work of Ronny Tertnes who we've seen before--I think he adds color to the pictures digitally but otherwise I don't think he manipulates them. Even if not 100% natural, I think this is beautiful. Untitled (Photograph, ?digital post-processing, undated) by Ronny Tertnes

According to the description at the MoMA: "Chicago-born artist Charles White created the linoleum cut Solid as a Rock (My God Is a Rock) in 1958, shortly after moving to Los Angeles, where he became an influential teacher and mentor for an emerging generation of African American artists. The print's unusual scale and iconic depiction represent a key moment in the artist's practice—a transition between his earlier social realist work with the Works Progress Administration (WPA) and his increasing focus on issues of race and the black body." The title My God is a Rock refers to a…

Recently, I posted a print of a symphony orchestra at Carnegie Hall, with the old joke about a NYC tourist stopping a musician on the street and asking how to get to Carnegie Hall. The musician answers "Practice, pratice, practice!" When we go to a typical orchestra concert, we have a pretty strong unspoken assumption about how the instruments are arranged: violins on the left, violas in the middle front with woodwinds and brass in layers behind, cellos and double basses on the right, with percussion at the very back all the way around.

Land art is usually made completely out of materials found in nature, most often sited in nature. Not surprisingly, that makes most land art works ephemeral. If it weren't for photographic documentation, the audiences would be small. I've shared some land art in the past, by Andy Goldsworthy and by James Brunt. I just encountered another land artist, named…

On day 3 and day 6, we talked about and looked at some typical Escher transformation gradients. Today's is a transformation gradient, but a bit unusual in a couple of ways. First, the transformation is from a cube or square (in different parts of the image) into a human figure. Second, the gradient follows a U-shaped path, rather than what is typical for Escher--either linear from one side of an image to the opposite side, or from the perimeter of a circle to the center.

Today we have another "regular division of the plane"/tessellation image, but this one is unusual both because it's in color, and because it's a drawing/painting rather than a print. I actually find this quite beautiful, with the regularity of the shape recurrence, and the irregularity of the three constituent shapes (Starfish, cockle shells and conch shells), which are not themselves symmetrical--which makes them look more real.

Porthole art sounds like a pretty particular kind of thing, no? (Porthole art=an image of what might have been seen out the porthole of a ship, of course.) Who would've thought that having posted a bunch of porthole pictures a year ago, that I'd find a completely new one to inspire me now? Escher and his wife were on a cruise along the coast of Italy.

Many think of a dandelion solely as a weed mucking up their perfect lawn. How many of us have really looked at a dandelion? Like so much of nature, the dandelion is so well suited for its existence. The flower stage is lovely, of course, and there is a kind of beauty in the puffball seed head phase as well. The way the individual florets emerge is so symmetrical, with identical angles resulting in maximal exposure to sunlight and air.

Tessellation is a word and a concept made much more popular by the work of 20th century Dutch artist MC Escher. Tessellation means the covering of a surface with shapes (called tiles), with no overlaps and no gaps. They can be simple geometric shapes (e.g. it's easy to make a tessellation with squares or hexagons), there can be versions using only one size and shape tile, as well as versions with variation of both size and shape.

In my recent discovery of some new-to-me Escher prints, I encountered today's image for the first time. I was struck by how very different it is from Escher's usual styles. I would never ascribe it to him from looking at it. It was from very early in his career--while he was at art school, in fact. It's very angular and he has this interesting approach to texture that I might call an inward-facing picket fence pattern.

I recently discovered a bunch of Escher prints online, including a number I hadn't ever seen before! One of them involved a man holding an "impossible cube"--an optical illusion that can be drawn on paper but not created as three-dimensional object. Turns out that that little print, is almost identical to a section of a larger print called Belvedere…

Billy Rose was a producer and impresario from the 1930s to the '60s, as well as a lyricist. (He wrote the words to at least two songs that I recogznize--🎵Me and My Shadow🎵, and 🎵It's Only a Paper Moon🎵.) He liked extravaganzas, and made them happen often. Today, we're looking at an image of a show he produced originally at the Great Lakes Exposition in 1937 (later moved to the 1939 New York World's Fair).

Fires are not such a common artistic subject, as I noted in a post back in week 5 of year 1. That was a post of a color etching of a campfire with embers floating up in the air by Richard Bosman, who was the very first artist I posted when I started this as a formal blog, and who is still one of my favorites.

I found today's image in a collection of art from historically black colleges and universities (HBCU) shared by the National Museum of African American History and Culture. The online exhibition is called "No less lovely being dark." To quote the description: "African American contributions to the arts have been historically undervalued in the American arts canon. In mounting their own exhibitions, providing venues for authors and performing artists, and hosting educational programs, HBCU museums and archives asserted the worth and significance of Black cultural production."