A Racetrack, a Pale Horse, and the Hotel Albert
The Racetrack, oil, 1890s, Albert Pinkham Ryder, Cleveland Museum of Art May 14th, 1888 As a reporter, one of his skills was to eavesdrop. Alone and listening in on the conversation between the scruffy recluse and the waiter, eating his meal quietly while feigning to read the paper, no one would suspect anything. If they glanced over they would probably take him for a travelling salesman, not a reporter baiting the hook. The long bearded guy had to be the artist who often dined alone, an eccentric according to art dealers and the few patrons, that helped prep him ... for what? An article about a slob who already, in his estimation, was an incurable romantic, a reputed mystic; one whose paintings looked like they were created using as much tobacco juice as he did oil paint. He really didn't know. All he knew was that he seemed to be going backwards into a romantic pool of... of... What kind of headline could he use? literature Inspires Painting How boring could...