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Wandering that afternoon through the New Orleans Museum of Art, suddenly lost in the museum’s rooms, in the time-warped flow I discovered Ubertini’s 16th century lute player serenading Henry Koerner’s 20th century lovers.
Ubertini had depicted his young musician contemplating the passing of time “where tales of passionate love are illustrated”. Such is the reach of love over five hundred years . . . from a romantic Italian Renaissance landscape to Koerner’s modern bed to my shifting presence before the paintings . . . where, as Koerner wrote of his 1949 visit to the post-war ruins of his childhood home, the vision of the lovers appeared, as . . .
“. . . a puff of wind blew through the broken building. I looked up to the room in which I was born. I loved and belonged to the empty space behind the torn curtain.”
(Koerner titled his painting “Child’s Bed”. He painted it the year I was born. I like to think that Henry felt that puff of wind at the moment of my birth.)
The Raven and the First Men sculpture was commissioned by Walter and Marianne Koerner for the University of British Columbia’s Museum of Anthropology, in Vancouver, British Columbia, where the sculpture is currently on display. It was carved from a giant block of laminated yellow cedar. The carving took two years to complete and was dedicated on April 1, 1980.
In Haida culture, the Raven is the most powerful of mythical creatures. His appetites include lust, curiosity, and an irrepressible desire to interfere and change things, and to play tricks on the world and its creatures.
The sculpture of The Raven and the First Men depicts the story of human creation. According to Haida legend, the Raven found himself alone one day on Rose Spit beach in Haida Gwaii (also known as the Queen Charlotte Islands). He saw an extraordinary clamshell and protruding from it were a number of small human beings. The Raven coaxed them to leave the shell to join him in his wonderful world. Some of the humans were hesitant at first, but they were overcome by curiosity and eventually emerged from the partly open giant clamshell to become the first Haida.
Bill Reid had worked with the old Haida myth in the 1950s with a silver bracelet and earrings, then again in 1970 when he carved a small (8.9 cm high) boxwood depiction. Walter Koerner, an ardent collector of Reid’s work, jumped at the suggestion a larger version might be possible and suggested that Arthur Erickson should design a special place for it in the Museum of Anthropology then being planned. Reid demanded a 3.05 metre cube of yellow cedar, but anything that big were flawed, so pieces were laminated to form a block of the size required. But he was taken up with other projects by then, so hired Vancouver sculptor George Norris to work on the preliminary stages, including an intermediate scale model which he cast in plaster.
A number of First Nations carvers also worked on the project, including Reggie Davidson, Jim Hart, and Gary Edenshaw (no relation to the famous carver, although Davidson and Hart were). George Rammell, a sculptor in his own right, worked on the emerging little humans in the later stages, and Bill Reid himself did most of the finishing carving. Koerner’s role in both subsidizing the work and seeing it through to the finish was vital.
Both the miniature version in gold cast from the original boxwood and a medium-sized version carved in onyx are now on display at the Bill Reid Gallery for Northwest Coast Art.
William Henry Dethlef Koerner (1878-1938) is renowned as one of the master illustrators of the American West along with the likes of Frederic Remington and Charles M. Russell. Koerner's illustrations are known for their bold brushwork and vibrant color palette; the two come together to support his vigorous and honest depictions of the 'Great American West'.
A prolific and versatile artist-illustrator, 'Big Bill' Koerner's work gained considerable visibility through his cover and story illustrations for the Saturday Evening Post, Ladies' Home Journal, Harper's, McClure's and Redbook.
WHD Koerner passed away in 1938, at the age of 59 from a cerebral hemorrhage. At the time of his death, the artist had received commissions for over 500 paintings and completed drawings for more than 200 western-themed stories. His studio, which still remains intact, can be viewed at the Buffalo Bill Historical Center's Whitney Museum of Western Art in Cody, Wyoming.
[Sources: National Museum of American Illustration and the Sullivan Goss Gallery]
William Henry Dethlef Koerner (1878-1938) is renowned as one of the master illustrators of the American West along with the likes of Frederic Remington and Charles M. Russell. Koerner's illustrations are known for their bold brushwork and vibrant color palette; the two come together to support his vigorous and honest depictions of the 'Great American West'.
A prolific and versatile artist-illustrator, 'Big Bill' Koerner's work gained considerable visibility through his cover and story illustrations for the Saturday Evening Post, Ladies' Home Journal, Harper's, McClure's and Redbook.
WHD Koerner passed away in 1938, at the age of 59 from a cerebral hemorrhage. At the time of his death, the artist had received commissions for over 500 paintings and completed drawings for more than 200 western-themed stories. His studio, which still remains intact, can be viewed at the Buffalo Bill Historical Center's Whitney Museum of Western Art in Cody, Wyoming.
[Sources: National Museum of American Illustration and the Sullivan Goss Gallery]
It's always nice to bear witness to a retro scene such as this – EMDs braking on the LI's steepest grade. The 159 leads the way, sounding off for Rogues Path on this chilly afternoon.
This is the image as it appears on an actual magazine, not a heavily photoshopped reproduction.
William Henry Dethlef Koerner (1878-1938) is renowned as one of the master illustrators of the American West along with the likes of Frederic Remington and Charles M. Russell. Koerner's illustrations are known for their bold brushwork and vibrant color palette; the two come together to support his vigorous and honest depictions of the 'Great American West'.
A prolific and versatile artist-illustrator, 'Big Bill' Koerner's work gained considerable visibility through his cover and story illustrations for the Saturday Evening Post, Ladies' Home Journal, Harper's, McClure's and Redbook.
WHD Koerner passed away in 1938, at the age of 59 from a cerebral hemorrhage. At the time of his death, the artist had received commissions for over 500 paintings and completed drawings for more than 200 western-themed stories. His studio, which still remains intact, can be viewed at the Buffalo Bill Historical Center's Whitney Museum of Western Art in Cody, Wyoming.
[Sources: National Museum of American Illustration and the Sullivan Goss Gallery]
This image is for the non-commercial use of UBC faculties and units only. For non-UBC use please contact comm.marketing@ubc.ca. Please credit photo to “Martin Dee / UBC Brand & Marketing”
It was such a gloomy day out today. I went for a walk up to my friend Koerner's and these flowers were in her yard. I spent about 10 minutes outside just taking pictures of them. This is the best, (i think) out of them all.
Site of the murder of FBI Special Agent W Carter Baum by Baby Face Nelson in April 1934. The incident occurred in front of the house where Nelson was holding hostages to make his escape. Nelson had just escaped the FBI raid at Little Bohemia Lodge. The left portion (roughly 2/3) of the house is the original structure from 1934. Photo Sept 2014.
See Joseph Leo Koerner's analysis of one aspect of this painting in The Moment of Self-Portraiture in German Renaissance Art, p. 101. Koerner suggests that, among other things, this painted celebration of the miraculous image of Christ's face is also a celebration of the "miraculous" illusionism of painting. Similarly, one could say that Koerner's eloquence celebrates his own ability to make that metaphorical conceit of the painting transparent. Koerner's admittedly brief and passing analysis focuses on the technical tour-de-force, the diaphenous crimped veil before which Christ's unlined image seems to hover. But perhaps just as striking to the faithful would have been Veronica's own face. For in contrast to the story she is aged, as signified by another set of wrinkles: those of her lined visage. Indeed, there is a very meaningful paired antithesis here between the two faces which are both presented frontally, or almost frontally, to us. One is male the other female; one is dark and framed by darker hair, the other lighter and framed by a headdress of white. That of Christ has not aged since the time of the Passion, and its existence beyond the temporal is signified by its detachedness from the veil. In contrast, Veronica's head and headdress are bound up in a transparent veil that knots where the horizontal axes of the clavicle cross the vertical axis of the throat. She has realistically aged through an individual "passio" (undergoing) that had slowly unfolded in her life since the time of Christ's Passion. Implicit in the pairing of the two faces is the invited comparison between the life of Christ, the life course of St. Veronica, and the life course of the fifteenth-century person whose portrait she is. It reflects a mentality that views the joys and ordeals of one's own life as paralleling, in lesser form, those experienced by Christ and the Saints. Or perhaps more accurately, it reflects the use of Christ's and the Saints' self-sacrifical lives as the example and guide for the believer's own life, the mentality of Thomas a Kempis' book Imitation of the Life of Christ. Moreover, the folds of the held-up veil suggest a narrative: they suggest that it was previously stored away out of sight, so that we are witnessing the revelation of what the Saint had kept hidden within, an attestation of her enduring devotion. The miraculous image, symbol of her devotion and nurturer of it, is also a token of Divine Love, since according to Ludolph of Saxony's Meditations on the Life of Christ (1380), He miraculously caused His face to appear on it. Just as that image was His special Gift to St. Veronica, access to Salvation, symbolized by the Throne of Grace, was His universal gift to humanity according to Catholic doctrine. Campin's use of grisaille, evoking the medium of stone, recalls the architecture of the Church, the instutionalized form of that access. Christ's hand in the vicinity of His heart opens the wound in his side from which had gushed water and blood, the blood embodied in the wine of the Catholic Eucharist. Thus His pose characterizes His granting of Grace as a self-emptying act of love. The expression of God the Father, as he holds the limp body of His crucified Son, may be read as pained, wrathful, or some combination of both. If we regard it as wrath, then we may regard Veronica's veil as a shield, the symbol of the devotion which protects her from damnation. In either case this is certainly a pair of panels in which the theme of sympathetic emotional responsiveness (between the figures depicted and between image and viewer) is manifest on several levels which reveal themselves upon reflection.
In his book The Moment of Self-Portraiture in German Renaissance Art, Joseph Leo Koerner's analysis of one aspect of this painting (p. 101) suggests that, among other things, this painted celebration of the miraculous image of Christ's face is also a celebration of the "miraculous" illusionism of painting. Similarly, one could say that Koerner's eloquence celebrates his own ability to make that metaphorical conceit of the painting transparent. Koerner's admittingly brief and passing analysis focuses on the technical tour-de-force, the diaphanous crimped veil before which Christ's unlined image seems to hover.
But perhaps just as striking to the faithful would have been Veronica's own face. And here, the contrast between smoothness and wrinkling would also have been important for the meaning of the diptych. According to the story her life, Veronica was a young woman when she wiped the sweat from Jesus' face as he carried the Cross. And she was normally shown that way. But here, by contrast, she is aged. So alongside the wrinkles on the miraculous cloth, there is another set of wrinkles: those of her lined face. Indeed, there is a very meaningful paired antithesis here between the two faces which are both presented frontally, or almost frontally, to us. One is male the other female; one is dark and framed by darker hair, the other lighter and framed by a headdress of white. That of Christ has not aged since the time of the Passion, and its existence beyond the temporal is signified by its detachedness from the veil. By contrast, Veronica's head and headdress are bound up in a transparent veil that knots where the horizontal axes of the clavicle cross the vertical axis of the throat. She has realistically aged through an individual "passio" (undergoing) that had slowly unfolded in her life since the time of Christ's Passion.
Implicit in the pairing of the two faces is the invited comparison between the life of Christ, the life course of St. Veronica, and the life course of the fifteenth-century paton/viewer whose portrait appears as Veronica's face. These overlappings reflect a mentality that views the joys and ordeals of one's own life as paralleling, in lesser form, those experienced by Christ and the Saints. Or perhaps more accurately, the comparison reflects the use of Christ's and the Saints' self-sacrificial lives as the example and guide for the believer's own life, the mentality of Thomas a Kempis' book Imitation of the Life of Christ, for example. Moreover, in the painting, the folds of the held-up veil suggest a narrative: they suggest that the veil was previously stored away out of sight, so that we are witnessing the revelation of what the Saint had kept hidden within, an attestation of her enduring devotion. The miraculous image, symbol of her devotion and nurturer of it, is also a token of Divine Love, since according to Ludolph of Saxony's Meditations on the Life of Christ (1380), Christ miraculously caused His face to appear on it.
When we turn our attention to the right hand panel of the diptych, we can see that it also has divine giving as a theme. For just as the miraculous image was Christ's special Gift to St. Veronica, access to Salvation (symbolized in the painting by the Throne of Grace) was God's universal gift to humanity, according to Catholic doctrine. Campin's use of grisaille in this painting, evoking the medium of stone, recalls the physical architecture of the Church, the instutionalized form of that access. Christ's hand in the vicinity of His heart opens the wound in his side from which had gushed water and blood, the blood embodied in the wine of the Catholic Eucharist. Thus His pose characterizes His granting of Grace as a self-emptying act of love. Meanwhile the expression of God the Father, as he holds the limp body of His crucified Son, may be read as pained, as wrathful, or as some combination of both. If we regard God's expression as wrathful, then we may regard Veronica's veil as a shield held between her and God's wrath. The veil is a the symbol of the devotion which has allowed her to receive the saving love of Christ, thus protecting her from damnation. In either case this is certainly a pair of panels in which the theme of sympathetic emotional responsiveness (between the figures depicted and between image and viewer) is manifest on several levels which reveal themselves upon reflection.
Map of the Battle-Field about Frederick City and the Monocacy River, Md. July 9, 1864 -- Map of the Valley of Virginia from Staunton to Winchester from Surveys and Reconnaisances by P.W.O. Koerner, Lt. Engr. Made under direction of Major A.H. Campbell, Chf. Topl. Bureau, D.N.V. -- Positions of the Union Hospitals at Cold Harbor, Va., May 31, June 12, 1864 -- Map of Field of Operations of March 29, 30 and 31, 1865 of The Fifth Army Corps commanded by Maj. Gen. G.K. Warren -- Skirmish at Salineville, Ohio, and Surrender of Brig. Gen. John H. Morgan, C.S. Army -- Positions of the Union Hospitals at Spotsylvania Court-House, Va., May 9-21, 1864 -- Position of the Union Hospitals at the Battle of the Wilderness, Va., May 5-7, 1864. -- A map of a line of Defenses in the Alleghanies compiled from Whitcomb's Railroad Map and Original Surveys by Lieut. Koerner's Topographical Party under direction of Capt. C.R. Howard, C.S.E. H.J. Miller, Asst. and Drftsm. -- Copy of Map furnished to Maj. Gen. G.K. Warren, Commanding The Fifth Army Corps, by means of which to conduct operations Beginning on March 29, 1865 -- Created by Von Lindenberg, Koerner, Campbell -- BU identifier 19wor_atlas_v2_094 -- For more information on this collection, visit contentdm.baylor.edu/cdm4/index_19wor.php?CISOROOT=/19wor
“By mid-morning, the sky was gray and lowering, with a bitter, cold wind under it.” [Image caption]
“Long days without event with the sheep on the thinly wooded mountain slopes; evenings of well-fed fatigue, a little talk, a little playing with the children; nights of deep sleep; and always first and central, the sheep.” [From the story]
William Henry Dethlef Koerner (1878-1938) is renowned as one of the master illustrators of the American West along with the likes of Frederic Remington and Charles M. Russell. Koerner's illustrations are known for their bold brushwork and vibrant color palette; the two come together to support his vigorous and honest depictions of the 'Great American West'.
A prolific and versatile artist-illustrator, 'Big Bill' Koerner's work gained considerable visibility through his cover and story illustrations for the Saturday Evening Post, Ladies' Home Journal, Harper's, McClure's and Redbook.
WHD Koerner passed away in 1938, at the age of 59 from a cerebral hemorrhage. At the time of his death, the artist had received commissions for over 500 paintings and completed drawings for more than 200 western-themed stories. His studio, which still remains intact, can be viewed at the Buffalo Bill Historical Center's Whitney Museum of Western Art in Cody, Wyoming.
[Sources: National Museum of American Illustration and the Sullivan Goss Gallery]
See Joseph Leo Koerner's analysis of one aspect of this painting in The Moment of Self-Portraiture in German Renaissance Art, p. 101. Koerner suggests that, among other things, this painted celebration of the miraculous image of Christ's face is also a celebration of the "miraculous" illusionism of painting. Similarly, one could say that Koerner's eloquence celebrates his own ability to make that metaphorical conceit of the painting transparent. Koerner's admittingly brief and passing analysis focuses on the technical tour-de-force, the diaphenous crimped veil before which Christ's unlined image seems to hover. But perhaps just as striking to the faithful would have been Veronica's own face. For in contrast to the story she is aged, as signified by another set of wrinkles: those of her lined visage. Indeed, there is a very meaningful paired antithesis here between the two faces which are both presented frontally, or almost frontally, to us. One is male the other female; one is dark and framed by darker hair, the other lighter and framed by a headdress of white. That of Christ has not aged since the time of the Passion, and its existence beyond the temporal is signified by its detachedness from the veil. In contrast, Veronica's head and headdress are bound up in a transparent veil that knots where the horizontal axes of the clavicle cross the vertical axis of the throat. She has realistically aged through an individual "passio" (undergoing) that had slowly unfolded in her life since the time of Christ's Passion. Implicit in the pairing of the two faces is the invited comparison between the life of Christ, the life course of St. Veronica, and the life course of the fifteenth-century person whose portrait she is. It reflects a mentality that views the joys and ordeals of one's own life as paralleling, in lesser form, those experienced by Christ and the Saints. Or perhaps more accurately, it reflects the use of Christ's and the Saints' self-sacrificial lives as the example and guide for the believer's own life, the mentality of Thomas a Kempis' book Imitation of the Life of Christ. Moreover, the folds of the held-up veil suggest a narrative: they suggest that it was previously stored away out of sight, so that we are witnessing the revelation of what the Saint had kept hidden within, an attestation of her enduring devotion. The miraculous image, symbol of her devotion and nurturer of it, is also a token of Divine Love, since according to Ludolph of Saxony's Meditations on the Life of Christ (1380), He miraculously caused His face to appear on it. Just as that image was His special Gift to St. Veronica, access to Salvation, symbolized by the Throne of Grace, was His universal gift to humanity according to Catholic doctrine. Campin's use of grisaille, evoking the medium of stone, recalls the architecture of the Church, the institutionalized form of that access. Christ's hand in the vicinity of His heart opens the wound in his side from which had gushed water and blood, the blood embodied in the wine of the Catholic Eucharist. Thus His pose characterizes His granting of Grace as a self-emptying act of love. The expression of God the Father, as he holds the limp body of His crucified Son, may be read as pained, wrathful, or some combination of both. If we regard it as wrath, then we may regard Veronica's veil as a shield, the symbol of the devotion which protects her from damnation. In either case this is certainly a pair of panels in which the theme of sympathetic emotional responsiveness (between the figures depicted and between image and viewer) is manifest on several levels which reveal themselves upon reflection.
See Joseph Leo Koerner's analysis of one aspect of this painting in The Moment of Self-Portraiture in German Renaissance Art, p. 101. Koerner suggests that, among other things, this painted celebration of the miraculous image of Christ's face is also a celebration of the "miraculous" illusionism of painting. Similarly, one could say that Koerner's eloquence celebrates his own ability to make that metaphorical conceit of the painting transparent. Koerner's admittingly brief and passing analysis focuses on the technical tour-de-force, the diaphenous crimped veil before which Christ's unlined image seems to hover. But perhaps just as striking to the faithful would have been Veronica's own face. For in contrast to the story she is aged, as signified by another set of wrinkles: those of her lined visage. Indeed, there is a very meaningful paired antithesis here between the two faces which are both presented frontally, or almost frontally, to us. One is male the other female; one is dark and framed by darker hair, the other lighter and framed by a headdress of white. That of Christ has not aged since the time of the Passion, and its existence beyond the temporal is signified by its detachedness from the veil. In contrast, Veronica's head and headdress are bound up in a transparent veil that knots where the horizontal axes of the clavicle cross the vertical axis of the throat. She has realistically aged through an individual "passio" (undergoing) that had slowly unfolded in her life since the time of Christ's Passion. Implicit in the pairing of the two faces is the invited comparison between the life of Christ, the life course of St. Veronica, and the life course of the fifteenth-century person whose portrait she is. It reflects a mentality that views the joys and ordeals of one's own life as paralleling, in lesser form, those experienced by Christ and the Saints. Or perhaps more accurately, it reflects the use of Christ's and the Saints' self-sacrifical lives as the example and guide for the believer's own life, the mentality of Thomas a Kempis' book Imitation of the Life of Christ. Moreover, the folds of the held-up veil suggest a narrative: they suggest that it was previously stored away out of sight, so that we are witnessing the revelation of what the Saint had kept hidden within, an attestation of her enduring devotion. The miraculous image, symbol of her devotion and nurturer of it, is also a token of Divine Love, since according to Ludolph of Saxony's Meditations on the Life of Christ (1380), He miraculously caused His face to appear on it. Just as that image was His special Gift to St. Veronica, access to Salvation, symbolized by the Throne of Grace, was His universal gift to humanity according to Catholic doctrine. Campin's use of grisaille, evoking the medium of stone, recalls the architecture of the Church, the instutionalized form of that access. Christ's hand in the vicinity of His heart opens the wound in his side from which had gushed water and blood, the blood embodied in the wine of the Catholic Eucharist. Thus His pose characterizes His granting of Grace as a self-emptying act of love. The expresson of God the Father, as he holds the limp body of His crucified Son, may be read as pained, wrathful, or some combination of both. If we regard it as wrath, then we may regard Veronica's veil as a shield, the symbol of the devotion which protects her from damnation. In either case this is certainly a pair of panels in which the theme of sympathetic emotional responsiveness (between the figures depicted and between image and viewer) is manifest on several levels which reveal themselves upon reflection.
William Henry Dethlef KOERNER
* 1878 in Lunden, Germany.
✝︎ 11 August 1938 in Interlaken, New Jersey.
www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.122175291332613045&...
The Phenix - Her Negatives
Oil on canvas
36 x 26 inches (91.4 x 66.0 cm)
Signed and dated lower right: W.H.D. Koerner / 1915
📍Private collection
Photo credit: Heritage Auction ⓒ
Appeared in Saturday Evening Post, June 19, 1915.
Caption: "Cora nearly killed him. She walked, rode and ran him nearly over two states."
About KOERNER ↓
Born in Germany, Wilhelm Heinrich Detlev Koerner (1878-1938) arrived with his family in Clinton, Iowa, in 1881. After initial studies there, he began work as a staff artist on the Chicago Tribune. He studied at the Francis Smith Art Academy in Chicago in 1900 and attended classes at the Chicago Art Institute in 1901; two years later he became assistant art editor at the Tribune.
After moving to Battle Creek, Michigan, Koerner became art editor and illustrator for Pilgrim: A Magazine for the Home. In 1905, Korner moved to Detroit, where he became art editor for the short-lived newspaper United States Daily. After another brief stay at the Chicago Tribune, Koerner moved to New York, where he studied at the Art Students League in 1905-06 with George Bridgman. In 1907 he was accepted at Howard Pyle's school in Wilmington, Delaware, as a student in the weekly composition class. He rented a studio, close to neighboring Pyle pupils Anton Otto Fischer, Mary Ellen Sigsbee Ker, and William H. Foster.
After Pyle died in 1911, Koerner exhibited in the first annual exhibition of his students in Wilmington. With his wife Lillian Lusk, whom he had married in 1903, Koerner moved several times in the Wilmington area until the family, now including a son and daughter, settled in Interlaken, New Jersey. From his studio there, Koerner became well known, primarily as an illustrator of scenes of characters and stories of the American West. He regularly traveled to the West throughout his career. He worked until 1935, and died in 1938.
Koerner's reconstructed studio is now part of the Buffalo Bill Historical Center at Cody, Wyoming.
Source: A Small School of Art. Rowland Elzea and Elizabeth H. Hawkes. Delaware Art Museum. 1980.
"Built in 1893...originaly (was) a post office and was later expanded to include a bank. ...It (the vault) hasn't been used since the town banker ran away with the money in the 1920's." blackdiamondmuseum.org/ Best viewed large~
Probably before 1910, just after the main lodge was built. George Buck and his son Fayette ran this resort from 1896 to 1916, when they sold it to Theodore Koerner. They also ran the Divide Resort which was at the narrows of North and South Turtle Lake in Winchester, WI.
Holder was seriously wounded when a landmine hit his M113 APC. Later, after serving time for marijuana possession, he went AWOL. Then, in 1972, he hijacked a plane with his girlfriend.
From Wikipedia:
June 2, 1972: Western Airlines Flight 701 from Los Angeles to Seattle was hijacked by Willie Roger Holder, a Vietnam War veteran, and his girlfriend Catherine Marie Kerkow. The hijackers claimed they had a bomb in an attaché case and demanded $500,000 and that Angela Davis, who was then on trial, be freed. After allowing half the passengers to get off in San Francisco and the other half to get off in New York on a re-fueling stop, they flew on to Algeria, where they were granted political asylum, joining the International Section of the Black Panther Party. It was and still remains the longest-distance hijacking in American history. Later, $488,000 of the ransom money was returned to American officials.
The story of the hijacking is chronicled in Brendan Koerner’s book The Skies Belong to Us.
From around 1910. This photo was taken on the Greer's Pier side, the bridge over 51 would be just to the right.
www.rambles.net/koerner_live.html has a blip about a past concert at the Plough and Stars in Cambridge, Ma where John has played for more years than I've been around, for sure. I heard them this summer there.
Summer 07, I got out to hear a long time cherished musician. The place was packed with folks I hadn't seen since my own performing and galavanting days, oh, say, 20 years prior. It was wonderful, terrible and very very strange. Here's a link to Koerner's website, plus the documentary preview of Blues Rags and Hollers, Koerner Glover and Ray. www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQ-TQ8S5rLw
The "bars" in the sky are the shadows of the protective bars that cover the window from the outside. The motto at the bottom is "I am the Resurrection and the Life."
At Lutheran All-Faiths Cemetery.
This postcard is marked August 1, 1921. This is facing Vance lake, the timbers in the water are for running logs down after they get through the dam.
Artist/Maker Information: Henry Koerner
American, born Austria, 1915-1991
Object Type: painting
Title: Tailor's Dummies
Date: 1948
Media: Oil on board
Dimensions: 28 x 35 in
Description (from museum website):
Koerner, who was Jewish, served in World War II and also lost his family in the Holocaust. His paintings reflect this trauma by frequently including references to his past. The children playing with headless mannequins (also called dummies) may symbolize the artist and his brother. According to Koerner’s son, the children playing represent “the energy of survival.” Yet the mannequins they play with disturbingly reference bodies maimed and scarred by war. The burning female torso alludes to the artist’s deceased mother, whose portrait is painted on the brick wall in the background.
www.rambles.net/koerner_live.html
This fellow has something about a gig at the plough, but from a few years back. www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQ-TQ8S5rLw