The Church recognized the song for what it was—a pop tune, not sacred music—and its composers as primarily socialist reformers, not Catholics. It was excommunicated and would stay that way for decades.
Pray for peace, remember war’s victims, and be grateful for the light that shines in your own backyard.
Take one painting and call me in the morning. They’re more powerful than Xanax, and totally free of side effects.
I feel like punching them drug-dealing m—rs in the throat. Nobody expects a left hook from a little old lady.
I’m the last person to recommend that anyone join the underground economy. But the need to be a productive member of society outweighs our requirement to follow rules.
The Oakland fire was a terrible tragedy, but it also reflects badly on artists.
Working artists offer a lively response to yesterday’s post on the gender gap.
Spare me the liberal pieties about social justice, my art-industry friends, until you are willing to promote, support and compensate women in the arts.
Without the humble ship’s cook, none of us would be here today.
How do you get the pies and the paintings to come out at the right times?