Monday, September 27, 2021

My Entry in The New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest #773

Should you turn your screen upside down for The New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest #773 in the issue dated September 27, 2021? My caption is shown below, or perhaps above. The drawing is by Lonnie Millsap.

"Our cups finally runneth over."





I wasn't down with these captions:
"Where do we keep the mop?"
"At least we didn't open the wine."
"I never expected this would be how our cups runneth over."
"The Lord is indeed our shepherd."
"So our cups finally runneth over."
"Shouldn't the caption be on top?"




October 4, 2021 Update:  The Finalists





October 11, 2021 Update:
  I voted for the caption from Mount Horeb.



October 20, 2021 Update:  The Winner






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Sunday, September 26, 2021

Richard Taylor's Copy of The Lost Girl by D. H. Lawrence

D. H. Lawrence's novel The Lost Girl was first published in  the U.K. in 1920 and in the U.S. the following year. It followed Women in Love, also released in 1920. Cartoonist Richard Taylor's copy was a paperback edition published in 1930 in New York. Taylor obtained it by 1934, when he added a self-portrait to a blank page and wrote "From the library of 'Dick' Taylor." In the following year, Taylor's work was to first appear in The New Yorker. 







Richard Taylor
eBay listing ended July 26, 2020


Richard Taylor
eBay item description





Note:  This book is something of an anomaly, with an artist drawing the equivalent of his own ex libris bookplate. Yet I am not aware of Richard Taylor adding an original drawing to any of his own published works for the enjoyment of friends or fans, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. I would love to hear from anyone with a souvenir drawing by Taylor.



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Saturday, September 25, 2021

Modernist Museum Copyist: Richard Taylor Proposed New Yorker Cover Art

Over the years, cartoonists have had a lot to say about modern art. Let's face it, Richard Taylor's museum copyist would not be turning a gallery goer's head if she were copying an old master. But why exactly is the man looking on in disbelief? If the art is worth visiting, as he is doing, why is it not worth studying, as she is doing? 


That may be the problem with this as a New Yorker cover proposal—and it could hardly be anything else. Both the man and the woman are taking this art seriously, yet in order for us to smile at the gag, we have to view the woman's copying as somewhat frivolous.

Richard Taylor's signature

Richard Taylor's other signature


Richard Taylor
eBay listing ended August 9, 2013
http://www.ebay.com/itm/Original-1930s-RICHARD-TAYLOR-New-Yorker-Cover-Art-Prelim-/360711234649?autorefresh=true&pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item53fc10a459&nma=true&si=UB68sj2DvLx%252F9kdb54zXrlCgzYs%253D&orig_cvip=true&rt=nc&_trksid=p2047675.l2557

Richard Taylor
eBay item description






Note:  The eBay seller asserts there is another New Yorker cover by another artist "with this nearly identical concept." I confess I am at a loss to identify what cover this could be. Can anyone help me out?

In 2010, the then-owner of this art listed it on the Comic Art Fans website here.


September 26, 2021 Update:  In the comments section, John makes the persuasive suggestion that the eBay seller refers to Constantin Alajálov's New Yorker cover of February 11, 1933. The cover gag does indeed depict a museum copyist, but it is certainly not about—ahem!—
modernism.
Constantin Alajálov
The New Yorker, February 11, 1933



I agree with John that this cover is much funnier than Taylor's proposal. The eBay seller's contention that Taylor's idea would have to be purchased in order to be reworked to this degree and assigned to another artist seems unlikely to me; it is no longer Taylor's original concept. Still, 1933 was two years before Taylor's first appearance in the magazine, and it is conceivable The New Yorker would have wanted to use a more proven artist (Alajálov's work had been in the magazine since 1926). I wonder, though, whether Taylor could have been thinking of this cover and why he was passed over for it (if indeed he was) when he drew the following 1936 cartoon:
Our Modern Gallery of Ancient Favorites:
Rape of the Sabines

Richard Taylor
The New Yorker, October 31, 1936, page 25



The Alajálov cover appeared before Taylor was a successful contributor to the magazine. Therefore, alternatively, Taylor might have been unaware of it when he submitted his own cover proposal of a museum copyist.


A spot drawing (artist unknown?) of a city clothesline and a cartoon by Richard Taylor











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Friday, September 24, 2021

Richard Taylor: Dinner Party Chat

What ever became of the dinner party? Richard Taylor's New Yorker cartoon of November 17, 1943, is set at a formal gathering where one guest seems to be out of his element.
"Professor Merton is a brilliant man in his field, but he has absolutely no small talk."
Richard Taylor
Original art
The New Yorker, November 27, 1943, page 27




Parties have been known to create social anxiety. We all want to feel we are masters of any given situation, and that conviction might grow when others appear more ill at ease than we ourselves are. So humor can be mined from our watching someone behave more embarrassingly than we would in the same circumstance. Still, there are times we might feel uncomfortable laughing at another person's awkwardness or ineptitude. At such times, it may be easier for us to laugh at truly eccentric individuals rather than the merely hapless.


Posture is so important. Professor Merton is hunched forward into his book, shifting his head below the line of heads on the far side of the dinner table. That's a good part of the reason he stands out.


Eye contact is also important. Two men have open mouths here, yet there is no question who is speaking. The man with the mustache leans toward his dinner companion and looks directly into her eyes. She returns his gaze. We are clearly listening in on their conversation. The man in the glasses is rendered without visible eyes and we don't get to see whom he is talking to.

Detail

The professor is also drawn without eyeballs, but we know what he's looking at. The woman on the left is Merton's dining companion. She stares expressionless across the table; she might as well be alone. For added emphasis, the woman on the far side of the prof is isolated from her partner, who is talking to the woman on the far right. Thus Taylor has contrived to leave the two women on either side of the professor with no one to interact. 
Detail

As we get farther away from the professor, the conversation gets decidedly more lively.

Detail
The caption is written in Taylor's hand:
Caption

Verso

Richard Taylor's signature

Verso New Yorker partial stamp

Richard Taylor
eBay listing ended December 16, 2018


Richard Taylor
eBay item description

Richard Taylor
eBay Bid History
Eight bidders place fifty-five rather tentative bids.

[End of eBay listing]




"Professor Merton is a brilliant man in his field, but he has absolutely no small talk."
Richard Taylor
Original art
The New Yorker, November 27, 1943, page 27


Cartoons by Mischa Richter and Richard Taylor
https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1943-11-27/flipbook/026/




Note:
  Original art by Richard Taylor is always worth a good look. Collectors may submit scans or photos of Taylor art to this blog.

I am available most evenings for dinner parties provided I can write my next post between courses.

Thanks to David from Manhattan for pointing out to me that Taylor himself wrote the caption on the matte. David is a longtime contributor to this blog and has set me straight on any number of topics.





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Thursday, September 23, 2021

Richard Taylor: A Dram of Drambuie

In 1949, an advertisement that appeared in The New Yorker, and no doubt elsewhere, suggested that readers try a digestif imported from Scotland: "After dinner a dram of Drambuie." A dram is conveniently defined in the ad as "a small drink," which is correct, informally. Technically, it's an eighth of a fluid ounce. Either way, the slogan is a catchy one and it makes the name of the product more memorable.



Later, the ad campaign was expanded to include any number of exotic locales: "No matter where you are—after dinner there's nothing like a dram of Drambuie." So ran the updated copy for Drambuie's print campaign, circa 1952-1956. New Yorker cartoonist Richard Taylor illustrated the ads, taking his readers on an armchair world tour. He created at least eight drawings, each featuring an older and a younger man wearing dinner jackets and being served "the only cordial with a Scotch whisky base" in some of the more far-flung areas of the globe. Here they are—cheers!











These ads appeared in The New Yorker multiple times, and that is where I found them. I have not attempted to find the first appearance of each individual ad; don't be fooled by the apparent chronology of the issues. I have merely copied each major variant once, at random.

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1949-11-19/flipbook/108/

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1953-03-21/flipbook/108/

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1953-09-19/flipbook/072/

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1953-10-31/flipbook/072/


https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1953-11-14/flipbook/116/



Spot drawing of a commuter by Roger Duvoisin
https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1955-02-05/flipbook/090/

https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1954-10-02/flipbook/076/


https://archives.newyorker.com/newyorker/1955-10-22/flipbook/092/


Note:  Could I have missed a Drambuie ad by Richard Taylor? Anything's possible. Please let me know if you find another.




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