(In midlife he spent about a decade in holy orders and after he got out of them became known for formal still lifes, but at the time of the self-portrait as estimated by the appearance of the person in it, he was still working as a commercial artist in New York, drawing illustrations for The New Yorker, dressing windows for Lord & Taylor, and designing costumes for Radio City Music Hall. He was born and died in Cambridge, MA and lived for a while in between in Brazil. Before me, I was told when I bought the picture, it belonged for years to a gay couple who lived on Cape Cod. I was able to find weirdly little information on de Menocal in 2012 beyond what it said on the back of the painting and the website for the Smithsonian American Art Museum, but I feel the chances of him having been straight are slim to spit-take.)
[edit a] It is not the most flattering light—he's a little washed out—but this is the self-portrait carefully retrieved from behind my desk and held in its frame with the hand that isn't taking the picture. You can actually see my grandfather's photo of the Torah scrolls reflected in its glass.
"Dickie gave Sam several little sketches, among them a bugler boy, a sensitively rendered nude male, and an intricate watercolor of a house, the last with a scrawled note below it: 'Please write soon. Hope its shoulder is out of its cast by now. This is a sketch of an old house here in Bahia. Much love, Mouse.' (Mouse was Sam's nickname for Dickie; Mouse called Sam 'Moose.') There are also several slips of torn paper: On one is scrawled: 'I love you, Sammy—M'; on another scrap is a note that says, 'Dear Sam, I forgot tomorrow was a holiday. If you want to spend the night here, bring some breakfast. I'll be back from the theater not too late. M'; and on yet another, 'Thursday—Sammy, Miss you very much, indeed. M.'"
I really hope "Fifteen Drawings Based on the Writings of Truman Capote" still exists.
I had no idea he was famously connected. I just saw him in a consignment shop and liked his face so much that I took him home, which I now gather happened to him when he was alive, too.
It's wonderful hearing all the history in the images you hang.
Thank you. I am sure there will be pictures as we unpack them where all I can remember is "grad school" or "my cousins" or "seemed like a good idea at the time." And I will have to ask spatch for the history of his, like the framed pulp magazine covers that we are planning to hang in the front hall.
My wild rabbits and a few of my own angels are now in frames, though seeing them there mostly makes me wish I had bought better frames. Now to work out how to hang them. Until then, they form a sort of improvised altar at the foot of my bed.
I hope you can hang them to your satisfaction, but an improvised altar does not sound like a bad thing. The glass-fronted cabinet in its previous incarnation served similarly. I took pictures so that we could reconstruct it, but it will no doubt change no matter what.
I am so happy that you have all these walls of your own.
It's kind of amazing. I don't want to crowd them—and we still need room for more bookshelves—but I want to make constellations. Thank you.
no subject
He was wild when he was younger!
(In midlife he spent about a decade in holy orders and after he got out of them became known for formal still lifes, but at the time of the self-portrait as estimated by the appearance of the person in it, he was still working as a commercial artist in New York, drawing illustrations for The New Yorker, dressing windows for Lord & Taylor, and designing costumes for Radio City Music Hall. He was born and died in Cambridge, MA and lived for a while in between in Brazil. Before me, I was told when I bought the picture, it belonged for years to a gay couple who lived on Cape Cod. I was able to find weirdly little information on de Menocal in 2012 beyond what it said on the back of the painting and the website for the Smithsonian American Art Museum, but I feel the chances of him having been straight are slim to spit-take.)
[edit a] It is not the most flattering light—he's a little washed out—but this is the self-portrait carefully retrieved from behind my desk and held in its frame with the hand that isn't taking the picture. You can actually see my grandfather's photo of the Torah scrolls reflected in its glass.
[edit b] Definitely not straight:
"Dickie gave Sam several little sketches, among them a bugler boy, a sensitively rendered nude male, and an intricate watercolor of a house, the last with a scrawled note below it: 'Please write soon. Hope its shoulder is out of its cast by now. This is a sketch of an old house here in Bahia. Much love, Mouse.' (Mouse was Sam's nickname for Dickie; Mouse called Sam 'Moose.') There are also several slips of torn paper: On one is scrawled: 'I love you, Sammy—M'; on another scrap is a note that says, 'Dear Sam, I forgot tomorrow was a holiday. If you want to spend the night here, bring some breakfast. I'll be back from the theater not too late. M'; and on yet another, 'Thursday—Sammy, Miss you very much, indeed. M.'"
I really hope "Fifteen Drawings Based on the Writings of Truman Capote" still exists.
[edit c] What do you mean his sister was an absolute legend who died in 2019? And looked like her brother, too, or vice versa.
I had no idea he was famously connected. I just saw him in a consignment shop and liked his face so much that I took him home, which I now gather happened to him when he was alive, too.
It's wonderful hearing all the history in the images you hang.
Thank you. I am sure there will be pictures as we unpack them where all I can remember is "grad school" or "my cousins" or "seemed like a good idea at the time." And I will have to ask
My wild rabbits and a few of my own angels are now in frames, though seeing them there mostly makes me wish I had bought better frames. Now to work out how to hang them. Until then, they form a sort of improvised altar at the foot of my bed.
I hope you can hang them to your satisfaction, but an improvised altar does not sound like a bad thing. The glass-fronted cabinet in its previous incarnation served similarly. I took pictures so that we could reconstruct it, but it will no doubt change no matter what.
I am so happy that you have all these walls of your own.
It's kind of amazing. I don't want to crowd them—and we still need room for more bookshelves—but I want to make constellations. Thank you.