Tag: Art

  • Short Story Review: “A Private View” by Douglas Stuart

    (The short story “A Private View” by Douglas Stuart appeared in the April 20th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Karolis Strautniekas

    Douglas Stuart’s “A Private View” reminds me of the short stories that The New Yorker used to publish back in the 50’s and 60’s. (This is meant as a compliment, FYI…) Those stories of old were all set in fabulously wonderful Manhattan, the characters had fascinating jobs in the arts, the stories took place in some social event or interaction, and everybody had lots of baggage. There was a strange comfortability in those old short stories, yet I would never call them predictable, as they seemed to project a New Yorker contemporary literary ideal. In this light, reading “A Private View” was the equivalent of reading on a rainy day in a warm sweater drinking a cup of coffee.

    This was a story that did lull me in. Perhaps I should admit that I am a sucker for stories about mothers and sons. The more troubled the better, and for that reason, I wasn’t paying strict attention to the story, and just let it easily roll and unfold before me. Also, with characters that were from Texas, it was almost too much up my alley.

    With all of that, I still have to say that I appreciated that this was a story that wasn’t afraid to take it’s time, flesh out the characters, and sprinkle the little clues on the edges of the frame. I also enjoyed Stuart’s use of the art show and the sculptures of the stations of the cross, and his descriptions of the contemporary figures that were worked in. It played wonderful with the theme of the story, and also provided a very fertile Gen-X visual vocabulary of childhood characters that still seem to flourish in the imaginations of people of a certain age.

    But what struck me as the most honest and true aspect of the story was the relationship between mother and son, and the satellite of the sister as well. It was palatable how uncomfortable all these relationships were with each other, and also understandable why each of the siblings made the choices that they did. One couldn’t stand to be disappointed anymore, and the other couldn’t let go. Perhaps the son was closer in personality to his mother, or perhaps the sister made her decision to let go, and the son had to hold on.

    I am keeping this review vague as I don’t want to give away anything in this story, but clearly I feel you should read it. Especially read it as Stuart does an excellent job with the climax, and the dénouement. Though heartbreaking, I found protagonist decision at the end of the story melancholy in its acknowledgement of the truth. A truth was needed, for this hero had been on this journey for some time, and it was time for him to move on.

  • Thoughts on the Kid’s First Broadway Show

    We had been planning this for a while, taking the kid to see HAMILTON on Broadway. It’s her favorite musical – she has the sound track memorized, and we’ve watched the Disney+ filmed musical performance like a hundred times. We had the opportunity to take her to other shows, but we knew HAMILTON was the only “first” show she could have AND we wanted to wait until she was old enough to appreciate what “seeing a Broadway show” really meant.

    Ans last week, was the right time. (If I might add, the middle of the week HAMILTON cast, with a couple of understudies that went on, was great!) The kid was excited, we made a whole evening out of it with dinner before, and souvenirs when we got to the theatre. The kid was bouncing in her seat when the lights started to dim, mouthed along to the songs that she loves, and, though she said she wouldn’t because she knows the show too well, cried like all of us at the end of the show.

    I would love to flatter myself and say that this was a life changing moment, or one of the core moments of her life, but I can’t say that; only she can – and it might still be years before she would say anything like that to me. No, I just provided a platform, and I hope that it inspires or encourages her in some way.

    For me, it was a very big deal. I don’t do a lot of Broadway. Not that I have an issue with it, but my theatrical heart lies Off-Off-Off Broadway, in the little weird and small houses that play strange and experimental shows. I have taken the kid to see those (mainly quirky puppet shows that friends of mine do) so she knows that world of theatre. Now, after having seen a big, huge, famous show on Broadway, I think the kid has been exposed to both ends of the theatre spectrum.

    And I think that’s my job as a parent – helping the kid experience things, and see as much different art as possible. I’m not expecting her to go into the arts, and if she doesn’t, that’s fine. But art and storytelling are important, and can lead to a better understanding of the world around you. Especially when it comes to understanding that we are all the same. We all love, we all hurt, we all give, and we all take.

  • My Place in the Chain

    Boy, did I get yelled at by my daughter this morning, and I didn’t deserve it, but I let her do it. She was angry, not at me, but she did take it out on me. I thought it best to let her express her frustration at having to go to school on a Monday morning.

    She is just now beginning to experience emotions that are much stronger than she can grasp or fully express. I need to pick my battles, clearly, but more importantly, I need to make sure she is given space to figure out what it is that she is feeling.

    Somewhere, way up in the Either of the next plane of existence, my Mother is laughing her ass off right now. Because I fully deserve this. I deserve to get berated by my kid, because I was that kid not too long ago and did this to my mother. And I am sure that she did this to her mother, and so the chain – this cycle – continues on.

    It is humbling, reassuring, and somehow also disconnecting, knowing that everything that I emotionally experience, my child will experience, and that my parents also experienced. That my emotional individuality is kind’a a sham. I’m not original; I’m just like my parents, who were just like their parents, and so on and so on.

  • ODDS and ENDS: In the car with the Dog, Talking The Beatles, and Tottenham Update

    (Must be the clouds in my eyes…)

    Not a bad Autumn morning. Took this while doing the Alt Side Parking dance.

    I brought the dog with me. Everyone loves dog pictures, right?

    Had fun talking and playing Beatle songs with the kid last night. Right now, she’s have fun with “I Am the Walrus” and the lyrics “Coo Coo Ca Choo,” as she’s heard them referenced in other songs, TV shows, and movies. I think for her, it’s like decoding a mystery from the long ago past. She also finds the “Paul is Dead” stuff really weird and funny as well. She wanted me to play my favorite songs, and tell her why I liked them so much. When I got to “Your Mother Should Know” I was struck with how melancholy it made me. Part of it was thinking about my mother, and the music that was popular before she was born, and then thinking how The Beatles are now music that was around before my kid’s mother was born. I felt like I was grasping for a moment that had already passed me.

    How do I feel about the state of Tottenham’s season so far? That’s a good question, that I’m still not sure how to answer. They are doing better than last season. BUT… they are having trouble winning at home. And the Champions League matches haven’t been awful, but it does feel like they can’t get out of their own way. Like, they are playing better, but not smarter. I do believe that if Maddison was out there, then it would be a different story, and they would be top of the table. Yes, I might be delusional.

  • Putting the Things on the Walls

    This weekend, the wife and I finally got around to finishing a task we’ve been meaning to do since the start of August; hanging up our art work in the livingroom. See, we painted the livingroom, and got a new hutch for the corner, and to be honest, we really enjoyed looking at our clean and painted walls.

    And through the whole month of August, we really did mean the put all of our stuff up, but something kept happening. Like, the kid had a soccer match, or we had to run and do some last-minute school shopping, or we just enjoyed the clean and painted walls. Did I mention that? Because we started to enjoy the fact that the walls were bare and just painted. But, we did have a corner in the apartment with all of our art work stacked up, and it was like, you know, constantly reminding us that we hadn’t “really” completed the job in the livingroom.

    So, we started putting things up.

    Some were paintings that I did in my early 20’s, and some were artwork that my wife created. I have two paintings that my uncle did, and we have quite a few of the kid’s art work that we framed. And then we have several quirky things that we have collected over the years. Lots to work with.

    The last time we hung art up, about five years ago, we were covering up some holes and cracks in the walls. So, there wasn’t a theme, unless you count covering up stuff was the theme.

    The wife lead the charge on this project. We have a wall that all about cat stuff. Then there is the wall with all the family pictures. There is the spot between the windows for my uncle’s painting. Then we have a spot for all the kid’s artwork, along with a spot for my paintings. The last wall is nothing but random stuff that we have collected together over twenty years.

    And I will say this; it looks good but it is a little weird; but weird in the good way. It reminded me of what one of my really good friends said to me before I left for New York; Don’t be normal, don’t fit in – Be weird.

    I’m trying to live up to that.