My greatest shame is that I own one song from a best-of-Willie-Nelson album. Don’t get me wrong — Willie Nelson is a lovely man, very talented. I don’t happen to know much of his music, aside from the single song I once heard on an easy-listening radio station in rural Maine. I’m not ashamed to…
This past Tuesday, April 16th, the poet Jorie Graham shared selected poems from her new collection From the New World at Poets House in Tribeca. Graham, the former chancellor of the Academy of American Poets, who currently teaches at Harvard, spoke candidly and wisely on how temporality, identity, and place have shaped her life as…
Sonnet 154 The little Love-god lying once asleep, Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vowed chaste life to keep Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand The fairest votary took up that fire Which many legions of true hearts had warmed; And so the General of hot desire…
Klimt’s “Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I” is certainly beautiful. It features a doe-eyed woman surrounded by and enclosed in gold, her hands clasped together awkwardly as if to avoid dirtying her glowing drapery. It is the central painting of the new exhibition, “The Woman in Gold” at the Neue gallery on the Upper East Side.…
Rem Koolhaas’ luminescent essay Junkspace decries the mall as the slagheap of America. Gleaming and gaudy, the ill-conceived child of consumerism and commercial architecture, malls across America serve as museums of all the things wrong with American society. Koolhaas points out the problems associated with fast-fashion, the invisibility of the working class, obesity, and the impermanence…
We’re looking for visual art to publish in our magazine. We need artwork for both the cover and the magazine’s contents. Submit your photographs, drawings, and other visual art today to TheColumbiaReview@Gmail.com for a chance to see your artwork published on the cover of our magazine. We’re looking forward to seeing your work. Be sure to…
Let me start with what first drew me to this exhibition in particular. In part it was the artists being exhibited (Richard Diebenkorn and Robert Rauschenberg are among my favorites), but as for the primary cause I’d point to the fact that almost regardless of genre I have an abiding interest in art about art–…
Perhaps it’s because I made a personal blood oath many years ago to distance myself from everything having to do with finance, but I only recently discovered that J.P Morgan–yes, the John Pierpont Morgan, leading financier of the Progressive Era that basically transformed the face of American business and whose company is a coveted sanctuary for business and finance enthusiasts everywhere–was actually a raging bibliophile. At the very least, he appreciated the power that amassing a large collection of rare and precious manuscripts gave him, and modern bibliophiles don’t seem to mind this too much because–well, come on, the man…
The Girls of Paris No matter their age, they were always the girls, dressed in starched white uniforms, and white rubber soled shoes. They might have been nurses lined up at the bus stop after closing time, if not for their black aprons dusty with powdered sugar. The girls have blisters on their feet, running back and forth behind the counter all day, and blisters on their hands breaking the red and white string spooling from the ceiling for the cardboard boxes embossed with a gold Eiffel Tower. “Take a number, please.” The line spills out the door…