— Joan Didion on Elizabeth Hardwick. The New York Review.
Patti! Be still my heart.
She of the Mick Jagger haircut and riveting prose will be at Housing Works on March 27th to talk about “her writing process and the writer’s life” with author Glenn Kurtz.
The event starts at 7PM. I’m camping out.
I’m currently trying to hang some artwork in my apartment, and it’s becoming abundantly clear that one wall - stark, gaping, and far too bare - is begging for a Harland Miller Penguin cover. Alas, I do not have a spare £1,680 laying around (if you do, and are feeling particularly generous, I’ll point you towards this piece at White Cube Gallery)…but I’m holding out for Exhibition A to issue something a tad more affordable.
Miller began his career as a novelist and his abiding logophilia is evident throughout his body of work. Combining two of my favorite things ever - book jackets and tongue-in-cheek literary jabs - the pieces that first got me interested in the London-based artist riff off Penguin covers of the 50’s and 60’s. Miller has produced a couple of series of these paintings, one a set of clever odes to Britain’s damp, gray seaside towns (“Bridlington: Ninety Three Million Miles From The Sun”; “Yorkshire: It Was A Struggle When Times Were Good”), another an array of cheeky barbs aimed at literary greats (“D.H. Lawrence - Dirty Northern Bastard”; “Ernest Hemingway - Hard As Fuck”).
Greedy bastard that I am (to borrow one of his favorite words), I want them all.