A drawing by illustrator Garth Williams that failed to make it into The New Yorker in the mid-1940s was sold a year ago on eBay for an undisclosed best offer. Let the revels begin.
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I laughed at the Lorax, "You poor stupid guy! You never can tell what some people will buy." --Dr. Seuss
A drawing by illustrator Garth Williams that failed to make it into The New Yorker in the mid-1940s was sold a year ago on eBay for an undisclosed best offer. Let the revels begin.
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The June 9 auction of Illustration Art at Swann Galleries included three works by Richard Taylor dating from the second World War, none of them known to be published, but all likely intended for The New Yorker. The proposed cover art of a "Worried Hitler" clearly dates from a time when the war was going badly for Germany, presumably between late 1943 and early 1945. The cover was rejected.
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| Richard Taylor Proposed New Yorker cover art |
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| "The Captain says he'd like the potatoes with their jackets on." |
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| "I certainly wish my family wasn't so damn sure I'd been sent to Iceland." |
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| Richard Taylor Swann Galleries Hammer price |
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A spot drawing by David Preston and a cartoon by Richard Taylorhttps://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1940-02-24/flipbook/020/ |
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| Bowling spot by David Preston |
Note: In 2014, Michael Maslin wrote about editor Harold Ross's determination not to put "specific people," i.e., recognizable individuals, on the cover of The New Yorker. There were, apparently, only three exceptions to this, two for Halloween issues, and all included images of Hitler's face. This is a good time to review the Ink Spill post here. Nowadays, of course, the magazine puts images of specific individuals, especially political figures, on innumerable covers. Many of these soon lose their relevance when the context of the week's current events is forgotten.
While I'm pretty certain none of these drawings were published in the form seen here, I can never be absolutely certain, particularly with that last gag, which might have appeared anywhere. I would like to hear from anyone who can prove me wrong or add something of relevance to this post or, indeed, to any post in the archives.
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Beginning around 1946, the young Frank Modell served as assistant to New Yorker cartoon editor James Geraghty. Working at The New Yorker, he acquired some early original works by Peter Arno that had never been published in the magazine. Possibly, some of these forgotten works were left unclaimed in the office, or they may have been gifts received personally from Arno.
Now we see that Modell also came to possess an early original drawing by Charles Addams. Apparently, this also was submitted to The New Yorker but not published. The cartoon, somewhat elongated in its proportions, shows two hunters involved in an unusual head-on car accident, no pun intended. The estate of Frank Modell attempted to sell this original at Bonhams, twice. The auction house listing does an admirable job of summarizing other Addams cartoons on similar subjects. In June, the drawing was given an estimate of $6,000-8,000. Unsold, it was offered again in December with a lower presale estimate of $5,000-7,000. The minimum bid was set at $5,000 but once again the Addams work did not find a buyer.
| Charles Addams Bonhams, December 15, 2021 |
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| "Couldn't we break our rule about hitchhikers just this once?" Charles Saxon Unpublished?
Photo by Bruce Crocker
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| "I suppose we could relax our rule about never picking up hitchhikers." Syd Hoff The New Yorker, June 6, 1959, page 44 |
Mythology was one of my dad's favorite themes, and I'm sure it had something to do with the fact that he was European-born and raised, and before coming to the U.S. as a refugee studied art in Paris at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts and at the Académie Lhote. My dad relished the flights of artistic invention the myths had inspired through the ages. When I was a child, we would often go to the Greek and Roman vases section of the Metropolitan Museum as one of our favorite destinations. He would take me to the galleries with European paintings and we would admire the enormous scale and expressive details of various masterworks of the Renaissance and Baroque periods, many of which of course depict mythological subjects. I think the focus on human foibles was part of what drew dad to myths and fables. They hold the mirror up to human nature not unlike cartoons! Later in life, my father immersed himself further in the Greek and Roman myths, writing verses and creating accompanying drawings. He felt a kinship with other humorists drawn to such material, for example André Dubout, the French artist who updated the Greek myths and made the most of their ribald content.
I don’t know if a variant of my dad’s drawing ever appeared in print. Judging by the paper and style, it looks like he drew this idea around 1953-59, the years when he was publishing other myth-based cartoons in The New Yorker.
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| Anatol Kovarsky, Leda and the Swans, c. 1953-1959, unpublished
Images copyright the Estate of Anatol Kovarsky
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| Anatol Kovarsky, Leda and the Swan, c. 1953-1959, unpublished
Images copyright the Estate of Anatol Kovarsky
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Attempted Bloggery has discovered a similar gag by Frank Modell, published in 1968 in The New Yorker. I love the fact that despite the similarity, each drawing offers its own nuance in the gag’s take-away. In Kovarsky’s drawing, Leda notices with displeasure that Zeus’s attention has wandered, whereas in Modell’s, sweet innocent Leda is oblivious, her idyll undisturbed. Kovarsky’s version sets itself against classical depictions of Leda and the swan amorously entwined, and instead invites us to imagine a far more prosaic lovers’ quarrel-in-the-making. In Modell’s version, Leda’s idyll remains intact as far as she’s concerned—but the reader sees what’s what.
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| Charles Addams, “Funny – the recipes never come out looking like they do in the pictures” |