Last month, I packed my tote, tied a little French bandana around my neck, and (bon voyage!) headed to Paris. The agenda: a magical wedding, our Alex Mill FA26 campaign, and all of the art I could fit in between.

Since I published my NYC art guide, you’ve been asking for more cities - this trip was the perfect excuse. So I got to work: I took careful notes, texted locals, and exhausted my Google Maps to - voilà! - create THE ultimate guide to Paris art.

What follows is THE ultimate guide to where to see art in Paris, curated by me and très chic insiders who know their stuff:

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Save it. Share it with your friends. Plan all your art trips. Take pics and send them to me.

P.S. stay ‘til the end for an interview with Alex Matisse, Matisse’s great-grandson & founder of East Fork.

Editor’s note: as I was writing this, I realized there are almost NO museums dedicated in full to women artists. Any investors reading this who want to take over a mansion and start a big project with me?!!?

Bonjour, Paris!

Paris is full of art, and choosing what to see can be overwhelming. Not anymore - here’s my best edit (plus little-known facts about each one).

Museums

Les icônes

Yes - you know them by name. Yes - there will be lines. Yes! You need to go anyway! There’s a reason they hold some of the most famous art on earth.

The Louvre (1st arrondissement) - the OGs of OGs. Started as a royal palace and became a public museum during the French Revolution in 1793. Home of Mona Lisa for 229 years.

• You can’t just “pop in” to the Louvre - it once took me half an hour to find the entrance! The pro tip: get a highlights tour on Viator & accept that you’ll have to come back.

Musée de l’Orangerie (1st) - aka Monet’s Water Lilies museum. Built in 1852 as a winter shelter for the Tuileries’ orange trees. Became a museum in 1927 when Water Lilies were installed.

• P.S. it’s not just Monet - don’t sleep on the rest of the modern art collection. I saw the Henri Rousseau show there in June.

Musée d’Orsay (7th) - oh la la, Impressionism's greatest hits - inside an old train station built for the 1900s World’s Fair.

• Don’t miss Manet’s scandalous double act Olympia and Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe:

Centre Pompidou (4th) - think: Paris’s “inside-out” modern art museum with its colorful pipes and escalators exposed on the exterior.

• It’s closed for renovation until 2030, but its collection is popping up in off-site Constellation shows. I got to see two fab ones at Le Grand Palais:

Smaller, lower-key museums

The ones your art world friends name-drop.

Musée Picasso (3rd arrondissement) - home to the world’s largest Picasso collection. After his death, his heirs paid part of their inheritance tax in art - très French! France turned those works into a museum - inside a grand 17th-century mansion.

Musée de la Chasse et de la Nature (3rd) - a very wonderful & strange mix of taxidermy, old paintings, and surreal rooms inside two grand mansions.

• , the founder of Ghia and author of Night Shade loves it: “Our mini version of the Natural History Museum, right in the center of Paris, with curiosity cabinets and a ceiling covered in feathers. Really good with kids and super easy, you can do it in maybe 20 minutes. It's not far from the Picasso Museum (which is one of my favorites but already very well known) and a nice break from the chaos of the Marais.”

Musée Cognacq-Jay (3rd) - a jewel box of an 18th-century art collection built by the founders of La Samaritaine department store

MEP - Maison Européenne de la Photographie (4th) - Paris’s photography museum as recommended by

Musée du Luxembourg (6th) - this gem of a museum is hiding inside the Luxembourg Gardens. No permanent collection aka there’s always a new fab exhibition to see.

• Local Parisian - the founder of Verdoie agrees “most people don’t actually know it’s in the jardin!”. She just saw Leonora Carrington there.

Deyrolle (7th) - a taxidermy museum since 1831 (!!!) that’s basically a life-size cabinet of curiosities. Sounds strange I know but and both recommended it so you know it is good!

• My travel muse swears that she “heads here every time I’m in town, and I always pick up one of their beautiful notebooks when I’m there.”

Musée Rodin (7th) - a grand 18th-century mansion where Rodin once lived and worked. He later donated his entire collection to France on the condition that the building become a museum. Come to see The Thinker and The Kiss.

• My new Paris guide & author of Stylé - The Paris Edit weighs in: “An 18th-century hôtel particulier drenched in that dreamy Parisian light that makes Rodin’s sensual sculptures look almost otherworldly (no wonder Dior keeps bringing its Haute Couture shows here).”

• Our newly minted Parisian style writer gives us a hot tip: “I’ve paid the price of admission to the Musée Rodin for a few hours of peace in its gardens.”

Hôtel de la Marine (8th) - don’t be fooled by its name - no, it is not a hotel - yes, it is an insanely ornate 18th-century palace w/ a huge private art collection thanks to a member of Qatar’s royal family.

• has the background: “I’ve come here twice since it opened in 2021, and each time I had it almost to myself. It’s the former home of the royal Garde-Meuble - the office who handled the furnishing of all the royal properties - and it’s been restored to its 18th century glory.”

• says the audio tour is a must: “You’re given a wireless headset for free when you come in, and it uses indoor location tracking so it knows which room you’re in. The narration starts automatically so you can really focus on viewing the pieces.”

Musée Jacquemart-André (8th) - majorly underrated - a banking heir’s private mansion - filled with Italian Renaissance masterpieces and Tiepolo ceiling frescoes.

Fondation Giacometti (14th) - an intimate museum devoted to Giacometti’s iconic skinny sculptures.

• Paris local sums it up: “it has a recreation of his studio, in a beautiful Art Nouveau home that used to be the showroom of Paul Follot. On Sundays, they do a wonderful kids tour where children learn to sketch Giacometti’s figures.”

Musée Marmottan Monet (16th) - a former hunting lodge holding more Monets than the Orsay and Orangerie combined - over 100 paintings - like Impression, Sunrise, the actual painting that gave Impressionism its name.

• has the inside view “Everyone knows Musee de L'orangerie, but I think seeing the Monet's, including works from the famous water lilies series, is even better at Musee Marmottan. Has some of Monet’s most notable works, it's never crowded and you can stroll to lunch at one of the area's beautiful restaurants after. For a very French experience, I'd walk the seven minutes to La Rotunde de la Muette, a cozy bistro popular with well-heeled locals with a bar reminiscent of the Boom Boom Room (both were designed by Roman & Williams).”

• Thank GOD you can also see the largest public collection of the iconic Impressionist Berthe Morisot’s work here.

Palais de Tokyo (16th) - Europe’s largest contemporary art space: no permanent collection, always something weird and buzzy, AND open until midnight.

Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris (16th) - free museum, anyone? Paris’s own modern-art museum has a totally free permanent collection filled with Matisse, Modigliani, and the Delaunays.

• The temp exhibitions are worth checking out too (but you’ll have to pay for a ticket).

Palais Galliera (16th) - oh, just three centuries of Paris fashion - we’re talking from powdered wigs and corsets to couture and Comme de Garçons.

• The collection isn’t permanently on view, so check what is showing before you go.

Musée de Montmartre (18th) - the museum of how Montmartre became Montmartre (aka Paris’s bohemian wonderland of artists/cabarets/characters from the 1870s through the early 1900s).

• The REAL highlight? The recreated studio of Suzanne Valadon - a former artist’s model who became one of the neighborhood’s (and France’s) most important painters.

• It’s a fave of France based : “It used to house the studios and homes of artists, including Renoir, Dufy, and Suzanne Valadon. Despite being in a pretty touristy zone of the 18th, it has a really peaceful private garden and café that I totally recommend spending lots of time in.”

• My reader recommended the BEST guide for this museum here - she does tours all over Paris - a little spendy but SO worth it.

Artist Homes & Studios

Atelier Brancusi (4th arrondissement) - Brancusi’s studio that’s closed for reno through 2030 (his studio is traveling to NYC’s MoMA in October!).

• When gives me a rec, I listen: “My favourite art spot in Paris is Brancusi’s studio, tucked away in a pretty, unassuming building facing the Centre Pompidou. Brancusi requested that his studio be recreated exactly as he left it, and walking through it feels like stepping into his creative process.”

Maison de Victor Hugo (4th) - come visit the apartment where Les Misérables author lived with his fam.

• Hugo wasn’t just a writer - he also made art, collected, and designed crazy furniture.

Musée Zadkine (6th) - a quiet little museum devoted to sculptor Ossip Zadkine - known for his bold (almost Cubist) figures. His old studio spills into a dreamy garden filled with his sculptures.

• turned me onto it: “A lesser-known museum that I really love. It’s a sculpture museum in Zadkine’s old studio, with a little garden that is so beautiful. One of my favorite spots in Paris!”

Musée Delacroix (6th) - the final home and studio of the artist behind Liberty Leading the People (yes, there’s a secret garden).

Maison Gainsbourg (7th) - the Paris home of Serge Gainsbourg France’s rebellious singer-songwriter, style icon, and Jane Birkin’s ex. The house has been preserved almost exactly as he left it. Two of our contributors love it:

• : “Serge Gainsbourg’s house, notoriously graffitied and generally a place of pilgrimage for my father. It’s actually the first place he took me when we visited Paris when I was 10. It’s now open to the public as a museum”

• : “Nearly everything has been preserved exactly as Gainsbourg left it - from overflowing bookshelves and handwritten notes to ashtrays, art, and personal mementos. Very cool.”

Musée Gustave Moreau (9th) - 19th-century painter Gustave Moreau turned his own home into a museum before he died, packing it with thousands of his dreamy, jewel-toned paintings. It has one of Paris’s best spiral staircases.

Musée de la Vie Romantique (9th) - a pink-and-green mansion at the foot of Montmartre - the former home to painter Ary Scheffer, whose Friday salons drew Chopin, Delacroix, and Liszt. Free museum since 1987.

• It’s on the list of Parisian it-girl spotter : “A little time capsule of 19th-century Parisian salon culture, where you can imagine stepping à la Midnight in Paris into a soirée with George Sand, Eugène Delacroix, Charles Dickens, and other Romantic-era artists exchanging life-altering one-liners, while Frédéric Chopin himself plays at the piano (you can even find a cast of his hand!). Entrance is free, and I love coming here to journal over tea and cake in the rose-filled garden café, almost forgetting I’m actually in one of Paris’s liveliest neighborhoods.”

The Artists’ Studios of Montsouris (14th) - a dreamy DIY walking tour in a quiet corner of the 14th where artists built some of Paris’s most exciting homes/studios in the 1930s.

• The main event is Villa Seurat - a tiny private street designed as an artists’ colony by architect André Lurçat. Residents included Chaïm Soutine, Salvador Dalí, Antonin Artaud, and Henry Miller.

• Most houses are private, but you can visit sculptor Chana Orloff’s preserved home and studio - and continue on to Le Corbusier’s nearby Maison Ozenfant.

• gives us the tea: “Hidden in plain sight, this is one of those IYKYK places that even a local might never discover. Begin at the cul-de-sac of 101 Rue de la Tombe-Issoire and let yourself wander through Rue de l’Aude, Rue des Artistes, Villa Seurat, and Rue Saint-Yves, where artists’ houses from the modernist era have transformed the streets into a true architectural wonderland. Look out for Le Corbusier’s Maison Ozenfant, André Lurçat’s Maison Double, and the Atelier-Musée Chana Orloff for a rare glimpse inside the preserved studio of a lesser-known but still iconic École de Paris artist.

Ateliers-Musée Chana Orloff (14th) - step inside the preserved home and studio of Chana Orloff, a very major 20th-century sculptor who ran with the Montparnasse art crowd. 200 sculptures in a gorge light-soaked room. J’adore!

• Montparnasse was basically Paris’s next big artist neighborhood after Montmartre - the 1920s hangout for an international crowd of painters, sculptors, and writers like Orloff, Chagall and Giacometti.

Musée Bourdelle (15th) - the home-studio of sculptor Antoine Bourdelle, who spent 15 years as Rodin’s assistant before making it on his own. Major hidden gem with almost no tourists.

• Of course, my Parisian native friend & fashion writer was the one who told me about it: “it always feels so peaceful, no matter how busy Paris gets.”

Rue Mallet-Stevens (16th) - add this unusual stop on your walking tour, per : “on a small cul-de-sac in the 16th, you’ll find an unexpected row of modernist homes designed by architect Robert Mallet-Stevens in the 1920s.”

Foundations & Design Houses

Fondation Cartier (1st) - Cartier’s contemporary art foundation, which just relocated to a Jean Nouvel-redesigned building on Place du Palais-Royal, right across from the Louvre.

Bourse de Commerce (1st) - former commodities exchange transformed into a modern/contemporary art museum to house the Pinault Collection - private collection of the French billionaire François Pinault.

• As puts it, it’s one of the city’s “grandest art experiences.”

Fondation Azzedine Alaïa (4th) - the late couturier’s foundation, showing his work alongside his own art and furniture collection.

• went on our last trip: “Azzedine Alaia is a master and there is no other place do you feel and see that than his small museum in the Marais. Much has been written of how much of a technician he was and at that museum you can literally be 2 “away from the way he finished a seam or created a pleat IN LEATHER!”

La Galerie Dior (8th) - Dior’s in-house museum tracing the house’s history - opened recently in 2022 - with a very Instagram-famous dress archive.

Fondation Jérôme Seydoux-Pathé (13th) - a small Renzo Piano-designed building devoted to early cinema history - for all you architecture lovers out there.

Maison du Brésil (Cité Internationale Universitaire de Paris, 14th) - a modernist dorm designed by Le Corbusier with Lucio Costa.

• My very chic Parisian friend Laurenca tells all: “Designed by Le Corbusier in collaboration with Lucio Costa, it shares many of the same modernist principles as the Cité Radieuse. I’m obsessed with mid-century modern architecture and Brutalism, so this is a must for me. The Cité Universitaire is also worth wandering around, as each building is a different country’s pavilion with its own unique architectural style.

Musée Yves Saint Laurent Paris (16th) - where YSL worked for almost 30 years! It’s closed for reno but reopening in 2027.

• has the scoop: “In addition to the very specific shows they put on (the Flowers of St Laurent, Sheer, Gold) the fact that you can see the actual studio where Yves worked in is pretty surreal- right down to colour pencils he sketched with.”

Fondation Le Corbusier / Villa La Roche (16th) - Le Corbusier’s own house - now a small museum of his work.

Espace Niemeyer (19th) - one of Paris’s wildest interiors - built between 1969 and 1980 as the headquarters of the French Communist Party by Brazilian modernist Oscar Niemeyer.

• explains: “it’s a striking building in the 19th featuring a dome from which hangs thousands of aluminum blades deflecting light and softening sound. Formerly the historic headquarters of the French Communist Party, and protected as a monument historique since 2007, it’s now a space that opens for exhibitions, events, and even fashion shows, like the Cordera FW26 presentation and Willy Chavarria SS27.”

Galleries

Free! Rarely crowded! One of the best ways to see what the art world is talking about right now. Just check what’s showing first.

Art galleries

Gagosian (1st and 8th arrondissements) - the global art-world behemoth, with museum-level exhibitions and blockbuster names you’d normally see at a museum.

Perrotin (3rd) - the contemporary art megagallery that still knows how to have fun. Come for the buzzy shows but stay for the fab art book shop (gift alert!).

Thaddaeus Ropac (3rd) - crazy museum-level contemporary art in the middle of the Marais, with major names like Anselm Kiefer, Georg Baselitz, Alex Katz and Elizabeth Peyton.

• has an eye: “where I go when I’m in the mood for ambitious contemporary art. The beautiful Marais gallery unfolds across four floors and consistently presents exceptionally strong exhibitions. The last time I visited, I caught Earthsongs, Joan Snyder’s first solo exhibition in France.”

Templon (3rd) - contemporary art legend Daniel Templon opened his gallery at just 21 in 1966 and helped introduce artists like Andy Warhol, Frank Stella and Willem de Kooning to French audiences. Oui!

Galerie Chantal Crousel (3rd) - less flashy, more ~cerebral~ and a serious art world fave. Roster includes: Mona Hatoum, Pierre Huyghe, and Wolfgang Tillmans.

Galerie Woolworth (6th arrondissement) - a three-generation, mother-to-daughter treasure box of antique and artist-made jewelry, recommended by .

Mennour (6th and 8th) - a modern and contemporary mix: think Louise Bourgeois and Joan Mitchell alongside Anish Kapoor, Camille Henrot and Ugo Rondinone.

Galerie Lelong & Co. (8th) - its roster of women artists steals the show: Etel Adnan, Simone Fattal, Alison Saar, Kiki Smith, Nancy Spero and Mildred Thompson - plus heavy hitters like Miró and David Hockney.

High Art (9th arrondissement) - a cool contemporary gallery set inside an elegant old Paris apartment, showing rising artists you may not know yet.

• Bonus: Georges Bizet reportedly wrote Carmen in the building.

While you’re in the Marais: make a gallery crawl of Balice Hertling, Sultana and Mendes Wood DM - smaller, cooler spaces where you’ll probs discover a name before it reaches museum level.

Design Galleries

Carpenters Workshop Gallery (4th arrondissement) - collectible furniture that looks more like sculpture than something you’d actually sit on.

Laffanour Galerie Downtown (6th) - the modern furniture here has an insane résumé: Charlotte Perriand, Jean Prouvé, Pierre Jeanneret and Le Corbusier.

Galerie Chastel-Maréchal (6th) - how romantique! A mecca of iconic French design - from Line Vautrin mirrors to Jean Royère furniture.

Galerie Scène Ouverte (6th) - one-of-a-kind furniture, ceramics and objects.

Galerie Jacques Lacoste (6th and 8th) - a treasure trove of 20th-century French design - like Jean Royère’s playful furniture AND pieces by the Giacomettis.

Galerie May (7th) - the COLORS are worth it alone. Glam French furniture with insane craftsmanship and a kind of ’70s feel.

Galerie Patrick Seguin (11th) - a Jean Nouvel-designed gallery filled with modern icons like Jean Prouvé, Charlotte Perriand and Le Corbusier.

Odds and ends….

Bibliothèque Mazarine (6th): an enchanting library that dubs as the most stunning in the world: “The reading room, with its gargantuan ceilings lined with books and gorgeous paneling, is one of my favorite places in all of Paris.”

POUSH (Aubervilliers, just outside the 19th) - not exactly a gallery, but something even better. Laurenca has the insiders view: “A huge former industrial campus turned into artists’ studios and exhibition spaces. It’s one of the best places to discover the contemporary Paris art scene, with free exhibitions and the chance to see artists at work. It feels much more like stepping into the city’s creative ecosystem than visiting a traditional museum.”

The great outdoors

Some of Paris’s best art isn’t inside a museum: we’re talking the incredible outdoor spaces that have a history of their own - all completely free.

Palais-Royal (1st) - a very grand historic courtyard home to artist Daniel Buren’s famous black-and-white striped columns

Tuileries and Carrousel Gardens (1st) - Paris’s most glam shortcut, linking the Louvre to Place de la Concorde. Fountains, clipped hedges, and sculptures hiding in plain sight. - treat the walk like a free open-air museum!

Stravinsky Fountain (4th) - the colorful, kooky fountain next to the Centre Pompidou, created by artists Niki de Saint Phalle and Jean Tinguely

Musée de la Sculpture en plein air (5th) - Paris’s secret sculpture garden, with modern artworks hiding among the trees and stone steps along the Seine.

Luxembourg Gardens and the Medici Fountain (6th) - THE Paris park fantasy - manicured trees, palace gardens, sculptures, sailboats and those famous green chairs.

• The co-founder of Augusta Sagnelli says it’s THE best place for people watching: “The late-afternoon light on the Medici Fountain is gorgeous. It’s a great place to read, people-watch or wait for friends - and the whole place makes you feel like you’re IN Paris. Dozens of little cafes and carts are tucked around the park for a citronade in the summer or a hot chocolate in the winter. Watch folks play tennis or chess or pétanque. So much life happens here in this park every day.”

Coulée Verte René-Dumont (12th) - an elevated garden path built along an abandoned railway. let me in on its secret: “it actually inspired the Highline in NYC! A fab place to see Paris’s Hausseman buildings [editor’s note: those are the classic cream-stone buildings the city is known for]”.

Père-Lachaise Cemetery (20th) - nope, not spooky - this historic cemetery doubles as a sculpture garden - wander among extravagant tombs, stained glass, and the graves of names like Gertrude Stein, Oscar Wilde, Jim Morrison and Édith Piaf.

• The co-founder of Augusta Sagnelli calls it her favorite place to walk: “the Pere Lachaise cemetery is a stunning labyrinth of history, sculpture, and nature. Not only is it a bird sanctuary and nature preserve, it also houses many mysterious cats and thousands of trees. Every time I visit I see something new, as if the ghosts rearrange the monuments in the night. Of course some of the heavy hitters have been laid to rest there, Gertude, Jim, Oscar, Edith, to name only a few.”

Pro tip: Augusta from says Les Nautes in the 4th is her fave place to meet up after work - it’s a casual riverside bar that’s perf for sunset drinks or a picnic: “It’s central, near a few Métro lines and has a great view of the bend in the river. Even when the riverfront is packed at sunset, you can still find a space to set up a picnic.”

LE ART SHOPPE!

A quick list of art shops for the best souvenir (or insider gift).

Books, posters, special finds

Astier de Villatte (1st and 6th) - handmade in France white ceramics, illustrated stationery, incense and other objects dripping with charm - a splurge!

Yvon Lambert (3rd) - an art gallery meets dream bookstore - art books, posters, rare finds and small editions you can take home.

Perrotin Store (3rd) - the gallery’s shoppable side - artist posters, books, totes, puzzles and small-batch pieces from names like Sophie Calle and JR.

Marin Montagut (6th) - a cabinet of curiosities filled with the illustrator’s hand-painted glasses, porcelain, stationery and little love letters to Paris.

Galerie Maeght (7th) - my fave. OG prints, posters and vintage art books with a big cult following.

• Like most good things in the world brought me here: “Galerie Maeght is legendary! The outpost at 42 rue du Bac is a filled with beautiful posters of past exhibitions and hard to find show catalogues- Think Chagall , Miro , Calder, Kandinsky- great place for gifts , self gifts or just a fun place to browse thru history.”

• knows a good gift shop when she sees one: “Galerie Maeght represents modern and contemporary artists, but I go there mostly to stock up on their totes, which are great gifts—not expensive and big impact.”

7L (7th) - Karl Lagerfeld’s art & fashion bookstore.

Artazart (10th) - a bright orange book shop right off Canal Saint Martin - full of affordable prints by artists you’re probs following on IG.

Le Tampographe Sardon (20th) - rubber stamps galore! Handmade ones with unhinged French insults, iykyk sayings, and other things you can’t find anywhere else. Usually only open on Saturdays.

Art supplies shops

Lavrut (2nd) - a VERY old school art shop selling the most beautiful supplies since 1922

La Maison du Pastel (3rd) - open since 1719 - the world’s oldest pastel maker with over 2,000 colors still made by hand. It is a true artist pilgrimage. Only open Thurs. afternoons.

Sennelier (7th) - the art supply shop where Picasso was a regular - its iconic oil pastels were originally designed for him.

Adam Montmartre (18th) - a neighborhood art-supply institution serving Montmartre’s painters since 1947.

Where to stay

On every budget.

• New Hotel Group - $ (various): 6 locations and some have been freshly renovated! Recommended by my local friend Alice Bucaille

• The Hoxton - $$ (2nd arrondissement): everything you could want, oversized rooms for paris & great vibe

• Hotel du Petit Moulin - $$ (4th): not too teeny and great location. I left with the best soap I still use.

• Chateau Voltaire - $$$ (1st): if you want to be a little fancy, stay here. you immediately feel luxe walking in. great art. great art. get strawberries and cream and a crème brûlée for dessert. loves it.

Insider Food Recs

My Parisian friend curated a list of IYKYK food recs especially for us<3 Her words:

Racines (2nd): For a dinner date: my most kept secret. Love the southern italian cuisine with a cool Parisian twist

Billie (2nd): For a festive dinner: Just go and thank me later

Laize (3rd): For great coffee

Benchy (6th): For a nice lunch: Japanese-inspired spot with street food influences

Il Camino (10th): For a fancy dinner: cozy chic Italian spot focused on traditional dishes.

Rori pizza (11th): If you want to indulge: modern pizza parlor serving NYC style pizza. Pro tip: always sit at the bar to witness everything getting prepped and talk with the staff, you’ll have the best experience!

Passager (11th): best breakfast in the city

Le square Trousseau (12th): For a nice French bistro: charming bistro and traditional dishes. The best fries in all Paris

More Bonnes Adresses To Eat

• Boot Café (3rd) - For coffee. Go for the homemade milks.

• Breizh Café (3rd) - For crêpes.

• Chez Janou (3rd) - For a classic Paris moment. I go here every time I’m in Paris. There’s a guy slicing baguettes into a drawer and bowls and bowls of olives. Bon appétit!

• L’Ami Jean (7th) - For a serious lunch. always gets its rice pudding.

• Le Verre Volé (10th) - Always feels like a very local scene.

• Du Pain et des Idées (10th) - bakery. Get the escargot pastry or the Pain des Amis.

• Clamato (11th) - For seafood.

• Le Cornichon (11th) - Neighborhood bar alert.

The Rosé List🌹

A quick list of everything I’m into right now with a Parisian twist. Oui! That’s The Rosé Period to YOU.

OBSESSED WITH:

• East Fork’s handmade Matisse collection. One of the highlights of my Paris trip was seeing Matisse’s cutouts. His Blue Nudes at MoMA in 2015 were actually what made me fall in love with modern art in the first place. So naturally I was soooo excited to learn my fave ceramics brand, East Fork - which was founded by Matisse’s great-grandson, Alex Matisse - just brought back its sold-out Matisse Collection in another small-batch (PLUS new designs!). Think East Fork’s handmade pottery covered in some of Matisse’s most iconic artwork. J’adore!

  • I got the chance to interview Alex about the collection, building East Fork, and what it was like growing up in the family of such a prolific legend. Keep scrolling for the details!

USING:

• When I was shooting in Paris during the heatwave, the most magical part of my day was…the shower. I brought mini versions of Soft Services’ Buffing Bar and let me just say: it did wonders. Now I refuse to shower without it!!!

• This Ayond serum is my new go-to - I use it daily for hyperpigmentation along with the Ziip (my 68-year-old friend Cheryl turned me onto it for anti aging - and let me just tell you SHE’S THE MUSE).

• OK can we please have a moment for Crown Affair’s shampoo & conditioner? My hair is PICKY and it feels like I had a salon-quality blow out after using it. is a genius!

GIFTING:

• Recently bringing Graza everywhere with me as the perfect summer hosting gift - just do yourself a favor and stock UP

READING:

• sent me The Plunge by Lila Raicek and I read it cover to cover in a day.

OVERHEARD:

• You know those vintage J.Crew catalogues you see all over Pinterest? My friend Gayle was the head stylist behind them - and now she helps us with our Alex Mill shoots. I always leave set with a million IYKYK references to look up.

  • At the last shoot, she casually mentioned that in the ’90s, every girl was obsessed with Clinique’s Black Honey. Obvi I ordered immediately - it has a cult following for a reason.

WEARING:

• Alex Mill’s new August Collection, which we shot in PARIS (oui!) on my friends Alice Pilate and Jeanne Ducourau!! How parfait. Here are my favorite things:

  • For the femmes:

    • The Scout Set - parfait for le plane

    • The Lucia Top - named after my sweet sis

    • Eastport rollneck in this lovely butter yellow

    • The Made in Italy ballet flats obvi

  • For the hommes:

    • The Carter popover - this usually sells out every year so hurry!

    • Cableknit cashmere crew - Alex Mill cashmere quality is NUTS. Our design team literally just uses MORE cashmere than other sweaters you’ll find. It’s 2-ply, 7-gauge, and Grade A (aka the gooood stuff)

HANGING:

• My NYC friend Maddie just got married in (our mutual hometown) Minnesota, and every single detail was so completely her - I’ve never been to a wedding that felt SO much like the bride. A custom dress made in Rome. 19th-century silk shoes. Produce centerpieces instead of florals. La Veste–like tablecloths. Handmade ribbons. Future brides, take note!

Want to Hear From Matisse’s Great-Grandson?

I chatted with Alex Matisse, the founder of East Fork Pottery and the great-grandson of Henri Matisse, on building East Fork, growing up with art history’s legendary name, and bringing his great-grandfather’s work to the table (literally - their handmade Matisse collection is back with new designs!!!).

P.S. make sure you’re following Alex on Instagram!

1. You spent years building East Fork as its own world. What made this feel like the right moment to bring your great-grandfather’s work into it?

It was really two things that came together and lined up that made it happen. First, I understood that East Fork had to reach a point where it could stand on its own with some scale before I could even contemplate the idea. Connie and I had talked about it in the past, but it never felt right; it felt like a distraction. We were so focused on building our brand and building the factory that we just didn’t have the organizational depth to tackle something as large as this.

The second thing that happened was that the copyright for a lot of Matisse’s works ended, which meant that a lot of the revenue that was generated from that copyright to fund the operations of Les Heritiers Matisse (the office that my brother George runs, which controls the copyright, helps museums with exhibitions, and authenticates work) was at risk.

Versions of Matisse works would flood the market, and the careful protection and stewardship that my brother brought to bear in his work would be at risk as the work entered the public domain. We wanted to release something with a lot of integrity to the original artwork, and set the tone for what a high-quality licensing project should look like.

2. When you look at what East Fork has become, what are you most proud of?

I’m proud of a lot of things: how much genuine joy our pottery brings to people’s lives, how much work in our community we have been able to fund and support over the years through our Quarterly Community Partnership and 1% for Community programs, but the thing I always come back to is our role as employer and manufacturer in an industry that has nearly disappeared from the US.

3. What inspired this collection? How did you go about translating Matisse’s work into objects people could use every day?

I’ve always thought of a dinner plate (or any flat ceramic surface) as a canvas, either for surface decoration or the food that is plated on it, so it was a very natural transition to take Matisse’s work and transpose it onto the surface of the pots.

4. Do you remember the first time you really understood, “Oh my God - that’s my great-grandfather”? How did growing up with his legacy shape you?

I don’t have a specific moment in my memory, but more of an accumulation of small realizations.

I remember going to shows as a family, being welcomed by the museum at openings and having fancy dinners, and I remember when kids at school would say things. For much of my early childhood, I did not like the attention or “otherness” that the name brought with it; it felt like this shadow that followed me around everywhere, and I could see how other family members struggled to find their voice in the world in that shadow.

For some, it was very hard, including my father, who was an amazing artist and inventor and engineer in his own right. I was taught that it was never something to talk about or use to my advantage. There was this quietness I felt like I had to move through the world with, and it was really East Fork’s growth and expansion that ultimately released me from that.

5. Was there a Matisse artwork you saw so often growing up that you almost forgot it was famous? Is any of that represented in the collection?

We had some drawings and lithographs around the house growing up, and these are still some of my favorite works. As we were designing the newest additions to the collection, I stumbled across Figure endormie sur fond moucharabieh and fell instantly in love with it.

I had wanted to do something that stretched across the whole surface of a serving platter, and I knew instantly we had found it. I love everything about this piece: the simplicity and peace in her sleeping face, the intricate patterned interior details on the screen behind her, and the drape and flow of the sheet on her lap.

6. We just launched The Rose Period Guide to Paris - one of the highlights was the Matisse show I just saw. What are your favorite places to see art in the city?

I have a little shame in admitting this, but over the last 15 years I have been so single-mindedly focused on building East Fork that I haven’t visited France since probably 2010 or 2011. I haven’t even taken my wife and our two girls!

When I was little, we used to go every summer to visit my grandmother who lived just south of Paris. What I remember enjoying most from those visits was visiting the Centre Pompidou (which is closed now for a large renovation) and in the woods outside of the Fontainebleau forest, the colossal sculpture Le Cyclop, which was made by Jean Tinguely in collaboration with his wife Niki de Saint Phalle. I don’t know if you can still climb up into it, but I remember that as a child.

Okay bon voyage! That’s it for now. What other cities should I do an art guide for next?!!?! Cities, want me to come to you!? Reach out at roseflorenceanderson@gmail.com and follow me on Instagram @roseflorenceanderson

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In the meantime…

A few weeks ago, I came across the work of Korean artist Jiyoung Park and her work stopped me mid-scroll. I posted it to Notes & it got over 48k likes.

The reaction got me thinking. Much of the art posted in my Current Obsession series has one thing in common. It's not that it’s the most famous, the most expensive, or the most technically impressive work. It’s just the work that feels extraordinary. Magic even!

Maybe it is the light, the color, a composition so dreamy you’re screenshotting it before you know what you’re doing. It’s the art that you’re omg still thinking days later for reasons you can’t really explain.

So I decided to take it one more step. Let’s make a master list of current obsessions that feel like magic throughout all of art history. Because don't we all need a little more wonder in our lives?

Presenting: Current Obsessions That Feel Like Magic🪄

Plus contributions from guest editors

P.S. We’re listing the work chronologically so we can (duh) have a history lesson along the way.

Stay til the end for everything I’m loving this month (a lot has happened since we last talked!)🌹

Current obsession🐚 the sea-born goddess of Sandro Botticelli (1445–1510)

Meet the magician: say hi to our OG magical painter Botticelli! He was the golden boy of Medici Florence. And even though he was crazy famous in his lifetime, he died pretty much forgotten (stayed that way for 350 YEARS!). Thank g for the Victorians, who rediscovered him and crowned him king again.

Why we’re obsessed: Botticelli painted like a dream. Just look - his figures don’t stand - they float! Hair moves like water, and everything feels touched by a little bit of magic.

Current obsession💙the mannerist Madonna of Parmigianino (1503-1540)

Meet the magician: say it with your hands🤌 - Parmigianino! Aka “the little one from Parma.” A child prodigy - and got famous at 21 by painting his reflection & giving it to the pope.

He spent the rest of his short life (he died at 37) bending reality: stretching necks, warping proportions, making the sacred feel just a little off.

Why we’re obsessed: leave it to my #1 mentor boss/bestie to choose a painting I never would have thought of. Here’s why he’s obsessed:

“I love Parmigianino’s Madonna with the Long Neck. Although painted during the Mannerist period - in hindsight it feels very Surrealist - think asymmetry, distorted perspectives and elongated proportions- you quickly see and feel how otherworldly this painting is. Forces are working here to further elevate an already heavenly subjects.

I love all the drapery in this painting, especially the Madonna’s blue gown. Like Houdini’s cape, she pulls aside her cape to reveal her/the worlds most famous act of disbelief - the Virgin birth.”

Current obsession🌙the moonlit nights of Henri Rousseau (1844-1910)

Meet the magician: Rousseau wasn't a trained artist - he worked as a customs officer in Paris and taught himself to paint on the side. Critics laughed at his work when he was alive. Laugh all you want - because today he's considered one of the greats of modern art.

Why we’re obsessed: the next time you go to the MoMA, beeline to this painting - the colors are even more transportive in person. My fave fact though: Rousseau built this entire painting without ever leaving France - he studied the animals at Paris's Jardin des Plantes, reconstructed "colonial villages" at the 1889 World's Fair, and invented the rest.

Current obsession🌈 the luminous dawns of English artist Evelyn De Morgan (1855–1919)

Meet the magician: our Pre-Raphaelite sister you've probably never heard of. Evelyn Pickering was born into a proper Victorian family who found her artist ambitions embarrassing - so she painted in secret as a teenager. Joke is ON THEM!!! She went on to build a legit career as an artist (something unheard of at the time).

Why we’re obsessed: Victorian paintings aren't usually my taste BUT we must acknowledge how ahead of her time De Morgan was. Spiritual visions, sea monsters, female heroines - at a moment when women could barely be artists, let alone paint whatever they wanted!

De Morgan was a pacifist and painted the above during WWI: the monsters are the war, the rainbow is the peace she believed came after. Part of the magic = she isn’t scared, she knows it will work out in the end.

Current obsession🌳the glittering fields of Gustav Klimt (1862-1918)

Meet the magician: Gustav Klimt (yes! The gold-leaf, The Kiss, tote-bag-in-every-museum-shop Klimt!) was born outside Vienna in 1862 and cofounded the Vienna Secession. But every summer, he'd head out to the Attersee, a lake in the Salzkammergut, and paint the thing almost no one associates with him: landscapes.

Why we’re obsessed: This one's Poppy Field - painted the summer of 1907 after he stumbled onto a poppy-filled meadow at Litzlberg. Stand back and it's a hillside of red poppies, blue cornflowers, white daisies and little gold buttons. Step closer and the whole thing dissolves into dots (Klimt was flirting with the same pointillism as Seurat). Magic trick alert!!

Current obsession🌈 the rainbow altarpieces of Swedish artist Hilma af Klint (1862–1944)

Meet the magician: the modern mystic Hilma painted some of the very first abstract works in Western art history - years before the men that got the credit. Read everything you need to know about her in my piece here:

Why we’re obsessed: how this painting came to be = magic itself. In 1906, Hilma was mid séance when her High Master spirit guides gave her an assignment: a series of paintings for a temple. Our girl Hilma said yes pls.

Altarpiece No. 1 is the grand finale - one of three altarpieces meant for that imagined spiral temple. Decades later, her breakout show would happen at the Guggenheim… basically a spiral temple IRL. OK MAGIC!!!

Current obsession🧡the layered landscapes of Swiss artist Félix Vallotton (1865-1925)

Meet the magician: Swiss artist Vallotton moved to Paris at 16 and went on to become one of the leading painters of The Nabis ("the prophets"), a group of rebel painters going beyond impressionism - flat shapes, bold color, decorative patterns.

Why we’re obsessed: the Nabis were onto something. They believed art shouldn't just represent reality - it should transform it. Vallotton takes this ordinary landscape and turns it into something DREAMY. If you'd told me this was painted in 2026, I wouldn't blink!

Current obsession💚the sun spotted green of Cuno Amiet (1868-1961)

Meet the magician: Amiet was the og pioneer of Swiss Modernism - he dragged it out of polite realism and into pure color. Cuno wasn’t afraid to experiment - his portraits and landscapes are known for his innovative use of hues (take a look at some of my favorite work here).

Why we’re obsessed: this is “Sunspots” and truly, could there ever be a better name?! Cuno paints his wife Anna here but his real subject is the dappled light. White patches sparkle across her dress - her other half dissolves into the trees. Enchanting!

Current obsession ✨ the fizzy dream-worlds of American artist Florine Stettheimer (1871–1944)

Meet the magician: Florine Stettheimer was old money New York - and her sisters ran one of the great salons of the age (Duchamp, O'Keeffe, and Man Ray all turned up to the parties),

She refused to sell her work. Money?! She didn’t need it! The magic part: after she died, Duchamp organized her retrospective at MoMA - the museum's first ever for a woman.

Why we’re obsessed: Oh, to live in the New York of a Florine Stettheimer painting! Step right into one, and you feel like you’ve crashed the golden age of parties in NYC - fizzy, gilded, and a little unreal.

The fact that she mostly kept her paintings private only adds to the magic - they feel like sneaking into the best party in town.

Current obsession🌟 the glowing desert visions of American artist Agnes Pelton (1881–1961)

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Pink used to be the color of kings. When did it become the color of girls? Pink has a reputation problem. And in today’s newsletter, we’re setting the record straight - from the 18th-century pigment of power to Elsa Schiaparelli’s invention that changed fashion history. In partnership with Merit, the makers of my favorite pinks ever🩷💄

You’re blushing! Pink has always made us feel something. Luis Barragan’s interiors. This viral lip liner. Picasso’s Rose Period - the namesake of my newsletter. But here’s the thing: pink might be the most shape-shifting color in history.

Its meaning hasn’t just evolved - it has flipped. Today, we’ll get into it. Plus guest contributor picks from , , , , , and .

P.S. I’m so excited to work with Merit on this newsletter - you guys KNOW I’m picky about colors, and the Merit pinks are the best.

They’re obsessed with their actual pigment qualities (Stay ‘til the end for when I nerded out with Kelly their Director of Color about it).

When Merit decided to launch on Substack, we thought - why not dive together down the rabbit hole on color, both of our favorite subjects?

Keep scrolling for an inside look into how makeup pigment is designed (I had NO idea) - and drop your favorite pink thing in the comments after this!

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WHEN DID THE PINK GET A REPUTATION PROBLEM?

Every pink your eyes see is, in a way, invented - it doesn’t exist on the visible light spectrum the way red or blue do. In nature? Pink is often borrowed. Flamingos would be white if they didn’t eat shrimp.

Even linguistically, pink had to be constructed. The ancient Greeks and Romans considered it light red. Pink as a ~concept~ arrived in Europe in the late 14th century, carried in on shipments of brazilwood dye - and became so popular we had to invent a name for it.

Think about that power: we don’t have separate words for light green or light purple. But light red? That became an entirely different color.

And the way we’ve used it has changed more than almost any other color in history.

The bottom line: pink has lived more lives than almost any color in history.

Today, we're looking at four pinks throughout art history and what each has meant:

1. ROSE MADDER: the oldest pink in the book

Before “pink” even had a name, there was rose madder.

Back it up: Rose Madder is one of the oldest pigments on earth. It comes from the root of the madder plant - a scrubby little weed that once ground up, makes some of the most dusty, romantic pink you’ve ever seen. Volia!

Since it was derived naturally and pretty available, we’ve been using it since the beginning of time - rose madder was found in the ancient Egyptian tomb of King Tut and in the ruins of Pompeii:

An early pigment not just reserved for the elites (rare!). Renaissance painters used it to show a little skin…

Hieronymus Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights, c. 1490-1500

Born in a small Dutch town, Hieronymus Bosch (1450-1516) lived a boring, unassuming life - but somehow whipped out THIS:

Let’s take a closer look at the middle panel, where pink holds everything together. It might seem like a peaceful spring day at first, but take a closer look…

Woah. Plot twist! Suddenly, you realize what’s going on: tiny nude fingers engaged in every possible sinful act. At the core - a blush, Rose Madder pink.

In Bosch’s era, pink was the color of life itself - of flesh, of the sacred body. It wasn’t gendered yet - just human.

By the 1850s, artists already knew the pigment had a tragic flaw: the color could fade over time. Which brings us to 1852…

John Everett Millais, Ophelia, 1851–52

It’s 1852, Victorian England. This redhead in a pink dress and pink cheeks floats in a stream - her eyes are open as she sinks…slowly…down. She’s still singing.

Allow me to introduce you to Ophelia - Shakespeare's Ophelia, from Hamlet - painted by John Everett Millais (aka the anti-art-establishment boys of Victorian Britain).

Look at this! Ophelia is literally drowning, but Millais painted her with such tenderness that you almost don’t register she’s dying.

Rose madder is part of why - he used it for her skin tones and the flush of her dress. The color made her feel soft. Still alive.

And isn’t it so perfect that he used a pigment that fades to paint a woman in the act of vanishing?

Pink in Ophelia is the impermanence of life, just like the color at the time. Once we get to the Palace of Versailles, though, pink takes on a different meaning…

2. ROSE POMPADOUR: the color of power

In the 18th century, pink wasn’t just a pigment. It had a name - and a patron.

Back it up: Madame de Pompadour was the official mistress to Louis XV - and the unofficial og influencer for all of France (if Paris had a creative director, it’d be ~Madame~).

She didn’t just wear pink - she commissioned it.

In 1757, she convinced the chief chemist at the Sèvres porcelain factory (still operating!) to develop an entirely new shade of pink glaze - Rose Pompadour.

Pink became THE power color at Versailles - influenced by his mistress, Louis XV himself wore it (any girlfriends relate to dressing their partner?! Royals! they were just like us).

Before the 19th century, pink was considered the stronger, more masculine color. It was a lighter shade of red after all, the color of war, blood, kings. Blue was for girls. Pink was for power.

Madame Pompadour’s pink showed up in ceramics, in fashion, in interiors - but nowhere more famously than on canvas:

François Boucher, Madame de Pompadour (1759, Wallace Collection, London)

By 1750, Madame Pompadour’s relationship with the king had become platonic - and she commissioned François Boucher (1703-1770) for a series of portraits where friendship (aww) was the central theme.

In this 1759 version, every detail is deliberate and symbolic:

At the heart of it: her Pompadour pink dress - the shade she made famous. It’s not just a pretty choice - it’s a POWER move.

Yup, she used pink to solidify her rebrand from lover to powerful patron of the arts.

By 1764, she'd be dead at just 42. But she hadn't just worn pink, she'd made it the color of French aristocratic life.

Just three years after she died, Fragonard would take her pink somewhere a little more scandalous…

Fragonard, The Swing (1767, Wallace Collection, London)

Just a few years later, Pompadour Pink was so popular - it shows up in one of history's most scandalous paintings - but not without a juicy backstory first.

And so it goes: the commission didn’t even come to Jean-Honoré Fragonard first.

A court gentleman wanted his mistress painted on a swing, pushed by a BISHOP, while he watched from below, looking up her skirts.

The first painter said no effing way. Fragonard said hell yes - with one small adjustment: the bishop became a cuckolded husband.

The pink ties it all together. Her billowy dress floating with drama, doing exactly what Pompadour's pink did (wealth! taste! class!) - minus any of Madame's ambition.

Here, pink is foot-loose and fancy free! It’s a pleasure. Zero consequences. The exact energy that the French Revolution would later decide to punish the aristocracy for.

The Revolution didn’t kill pink - it stripped it of status. For the next 150 years, pink went from power move to pretty wallpaper. Until Elsa Schiaparelli got her hands on it…

3. SHOCKING PINK: the shade that broke fashion

By the 1930s, pink was in danger of becoming pretty. Italian haute couture designer Elsa Schiaparelli (1890-1973) had other plans.

Back it up: Schiaparelli was at the center of the Surrealist movement - collaborating with Dalí and Jean Cocteau. She needed a color to match her energy. Enter the signature shade she'd immortalize forever: Shocking Pink.

The story goes: Schiaparelli's client, the sewing machine heiress Daisy Fellowes, waltzed into her workshop wearing a 17.27-carat pink diamond. Schiaparelli was spellbound - and introduced it into her own line:

Elsa Schiaparelli, Shocking Perfume (1937)

In 1937, shocking pink hit the market in Schiaparelli's perfume Shocking.

Her friend and Surrealist legend Leonor Fini designed the bottle - shaped like Mae West's torso - wrapped in the electric shocking pink packaging.

It didn’t end at packaging - she cut suits in shocking pink, splashed it across the iconic Lobster Dress she made with Dalí, and dressed Zsa Zsa Gabor in it for Moulin Rouge (1952).

For Schiaparelli & the fashion that followed it, pink wasn’t sweet - it was something you wore to be impossible to ignore.

4. QUINACRIDONE: pink goes modern

At the exact moment America was turning pink into a gender, the first modern pink was born in a lab.

Back it up: quinacridone was first identified in 1896, then basically ignored for decades until in 1955, American chemists figured out how to mass-produce it.

Now, artists had access to a pink unlike anything before it: hyper-saturated, lightfast, and most importantly, it didn’t fade.

The abstract expressionists used quinacridone to push against some other boundaries:

Helen Frankenthaler, Pink Lady, 1963.

Frankenthaler (1928–2011) was one of the few women to break into the postwar NYC abstract expressionist boys club - who changed what painting and color - could be.

See that bold hot fuchsia streak in Pink Lady? It's almost certainly quinacridone rose - the new synthetic pigments hitting studios in the early 1960s.

But here’s what makes Pink Lady the painting it is: by the early 1960s, American culture had decided pink was for girls. Sweet, decorative, domesticated.

Helen, who was twice divorced and answered to NOBODY, went the opposite route: she took pink and made it raw, big, radical. Same pink. Completely different world.

The title says it all: the namesake of her painting - Pink Lady - is a cocktail - gin, grenadine, egg white. Looks delicate. Packs a punch. Just like our girl Helen, who whose work opened the door for all the female painters that came after her.

Meanwhile, a few years later, Philip Guston went all in on pink in a very different way…

Phillip Guston, Painting, Smoking, Eating (1973)

Guston (1913-1980) was an NYC painter running in the same downtown circles as Helen Frankenthaler, de Kooning, Rothko, the whole Cedar Tavern crew.

But by the late 1960s - right as America had FULLY turned pink into feminine perfection - Guston started painting almost everything in it.

This pink wasn’t pretty:

It was a new genre of pink entirely: ashtray pink, flesh pink, cheap wall paint pink. Guston pink.

Critics described the works as “fleshy” and “meaty.” At the exact moment culture made pink decorative, Guston made it grotesque.

Cy Twombly, Untitled (Roses), 2008

Cy Twombly (1928–2011) grew up in the same modern postwar New York art world as Frankenthaler and Guston (but spent most of his life in Italia!). His paintings are a cocktail of graffiti, poetry, and ancient mythology.

Late in life, he became obsessed with roses - painted in quinacridone pink.

By 2008, pink had already lived a thousand cultural lives: Versailles pink, Schiaparellio pink, Guston flesh pink. Twombly took all of that and went BIG.

These roses don’t feel delicate or decorative. They feel all-consuming:

Quinacridone changed what pink could carry.

For the first time, artists had a pigment saturated enough, stable enough, to hold real emotional weight at monumental scale. Twombly knew exactly what to do with that - his pinks aren’t about culture or gender or power. Just feeling.

So what’s with pink’s reputation problem? Just look at how artists have used it: Bosch used it to show life. Fragonard used it for scandal. Schiaparelli made it a rallying cry. Twombly made it theatrical.

Pink has never been just about gender. It’s never been weak. It’s unruly. We invented it, then spent centuries reinventing what it means.

It’s the OG provocateur. Pink is a color that we can give its own power to.

So - what do you want to say with yours?

Guest Curators’ Best of Pinks🩷

I texted some of my most stylish, design-minded friends for their favorite pink picks of the moment…

- founder of Cup of Jo, author of Big Salad, & the internet’s longtime big sis

I LOVE the use of pink in Jordan Casteel's paintings. Pink splashes across clothes and walls, but also in her subjects' skin. "Her subjects’ skin is not always black, but an array of red, green, yellow, and blue, alluding to the slipperiness of categorizing identity solely based on skin color," writes the Studio Museum in Harlem. Jordan herself told Vogue: "I was interested in the fact that people were going, ‘Oh, you’re painting Black men.’ And then they would be like: ‘Oh, actually, he’s green.’ I loved witnessing the externalization of that internal process.”

- author of Kelly Klein, stylist, and my patron saint of interesting outfits

The most notable pink moment I can think of, unfortunately, isn’t a happy one. Jackie Kennedy was wearing a pink boucle suit when President Kennedy was assassinated on November 22, 1963, which also happens to be my birthday (unimportant). Everyone urged her to change before appearing in public but as you know, she refused. She wore that suit, blood-stained, when Lyndon B. Johnson was sworn in as president on Air Force One. She wanted everyone to see what had been done.

Most people assume it was Chanel but the suit was actually fitted and sewn in New York by Chez Ninon, a high end boutique that imported European materials and constructed them in the US. Jackie did it to appear patriotic. First ladies were expected to be seen in American-made clothing. So one of the most iconic outfits in modern history was Chanel in design but American in construction.

When I went looking for a photo, I typed in Jackie Kennedy’s name and the pink suit came up before anything else. That’s either my algorithm or how embedded it is.

- Creative Director of Alex Mill, author of SomStack & my bestie

White on the verge of red, or is it red on the verge of white? That is the dilemma of pink. Youth on the verge of adulthood. Naivety on the verge of experience - these are the expertise of Elizabeth Peyton, often described as soft and gentle.

I just love how in this piece pink feels the opposite of that - strong and disruptive rather than transitional - perfect for this piece of Chloe Sevigny on the red carpet at the 2000 SAG awards - a newbie on the verge of stardom.

- Fashion editor and writer you’ve definitely seen in NY Mag, The Cut, WSJ and more. She is the author of Shop Rat on Substack.

One of the most-copied dresses in the world, this dress to me symbolizes the peak “man repeller” moment in fashion, when a stranger sort of sex appeal took hold. It looks like a gorgeous pink vulva, or a piece of bubble gum that’s been popped over the wearer. The pink is obviously feminine, but there’s a bold confidence and strength to it as well.

- author of Consider Yourself Cultured, my everyday style icon

Whenever I think about the color pink, I can’t help but think of “Think Pink” from Funny Face (1957), which stars a young Audrey Hepburn alongside Fred Astair ( whose character is loosely based on Richard Avedon), and Kay Thompson (whose character draws inspiration from Diana Vreeland, who was then at Harper's Bazaar). The song, and the entire sequence, feels so light and airy, and in my opinion, it’s incredibly catchy, especially the opening line, “Banish the black, burn the blue, and bury the beige. From now on, girls think pink!”

- author of , head of brand at Merit, owner of the most fabulous head of red hair

I have a very obvious pink pick, but it has to be Marie Antoinette – both Sofia Coppola’s interpretation + the real thing! Specifically, this pink feathered gown with the matching rosy cheeks and the below dress that belonged to the real MA, both of which were shown at the V&A exhibit in London I visited late last year. I guess we could broaden it out to French Rococo in general – my mom had a museum print of Fragonard’s The Swing in our house growing up, which definitely imprinted on me early.

Avery Trufleman - author, producer, and host of my absolute favorite podcast Articles of Interest (her bone structure & radio voice is even better in person)

The Pink Dress from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. For one, “Diamonds are a Girls Best Friend” is such a deeply sad heterofatalist song dressed up as a jazzy sexy little number (eat your heart out Sabrina Carpenter), and the dress that Marilyn Monroe wore to sing it is just... perfect. No wonder its been replicated by Madonna and Normani. It was designed by Oscar-winning costume designer Willy Travilla, back when the Hollywood studio system had couturiers to make everything for the movies. Apparently Travilla claims to have also been Monroe’s lover for a time, which- I mean, I believe it looking at this dress.

For this scene, Monroe was originally supposed to wear a glittering showgirl outfit that looked like she had diamonds all over her nude body. But at the last minute it was discovered that Monroe had posed nude back, in her Norma Jean days, and to avoid the scandal, they opted for an ensemble that was more demure. I mean the element that keeps it from looking too ladylike and gives it that showgirl pizzaz is the color. That pink is doing the talking

FIELD RESEARCH: WHAT MAKES THE PERFECT PINK?

Ask a makeup chemist what the hardest color to formulate is. Almost universally: pink.

I talked to Kelly, Merit’s Director of Color about why - and why we started wearing pink in the first place.

Before pink lipstick, there was only rouge - red. And red was loaded. In the 1800s, Western women wearing makeup were considered women of loose morals. Pink was the workaround: color, but subtle. Wearing makeup, but barely. A little rebellion.

Which makes it all the more ironic that pink is the hardest color to get right.

Pink is just red and white - sounds simple!! But in cosmetics, there are only about five red pigments to work with, and white is the troublemaker. Too much and it goes chalky. Too little and it disappears. For deeper skin tones, that margin is razor-thin.

I asked Kelly this while wearing my Merit pink lipstick (live field research).

Three things:

• Use as little white as possible so the natural lip shows through.

• Test against as many skin tones as possible - most brands test against competitors, Merit only tests against itself.

• Coated pigments: a pigment wrapped in a “caring” substance (isn’t that such a good term?) that stacks better, wears longer, does more with less.

The goal, Kelly told me, isn’t the most pink pink. It’s just the right one. ♥

MY FAVORITE MERIT PINKS:

• Signature Lip Liner - lip liner scared me until and I decided to embrace it one evening - now I can’t stop wearing it! I love it in “subconscious.”

• Flush Balm - I’ve been using it for years. It’s one of the only things I consistently put on - I use it on my lips, cheeks, even eyes.

  • We had an Alex Mill dinner at Bar Étoile last week and we gave all the girls it in Postmodern - and we all had it on by the end of the night. Actually we loved it so much that we packed it up for our HOL26 shoot - and Som used it on our model for the lookbook.

  • I love it in persimmon

• Signature Lip Blush - when Kelly talked about making sure the pigments had “caring” ingredients, this is exactly what she meant. Gone are the days of those waxy feeling lipsticks floating around your mom’s purse - this is genuine butter.

OK everyone! That’s a wrap on pink🩷💄What other interesting strange unusual art topics are you interested in learning about? Drop in comments below or find me on Insta @roseflorenceanderson

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Read my other color histories here:

Last month, I went to Mexico City to shoot Alex Mill’s summer campaign with a secret agenda: to enter the world of my favorite female artist. Frida freaking Kahlo. I fell in love with Frida not for her work but for her story - and despite being so famous, it’s a story that not many know.

In 1925, 18-year-old Frida was enjoying a beautiful bus ride in Mexico City when it violently crashed - shattering her spine and impaling her hip. That bus ride changed everything.

Stuck in bed in a full-body cast, Frida started painting - and never stopped. She’d turn her pain into one of the most distinctive bodies of work of the 20th century.

Today, her face is everywhere. But the story behind it - the real one - is stranger, sharper, and far more interesting than the icon.

Without further ado…it’s time to meet: Frida Kahlo. From what she wore to who she loved - and all of her best work, of course. You’ll be on a first-name basis by the end.

P.S. read til the end for a mini color history - and everything else I’m loving right now.

Who she was:

Allow me to introduce you to Frida Kahlo (1907–1954), the Mexican modernist who took her own image and turned it into an icon (bow down!).

In a world that often overlooks women artists, Frida is the rare exception. Why? Because she wasn’t just a painter - she was a FORCE. A feminist, a style icon, a role model, an activist.

Frida broke every rule. She fought back. And in the process, she defined a version of modern art that the world will never forget.

Back it up, what is Frida Kahlo’s style?

Read more

For 10+ hours of the day, I’m not just thinking about art, I’m thinking about clothes. It is my job after all! I run brand at Alex Mill - where art x fashion intersects even more than you’d realize.

Last year, our designers went to the Hockney show in Paris and came back with a new color palette. We named a pair of pants after the 9th Street Women - the cool, paint-splattered fatigues Helen Frankenthaler & Grace Hartigan wore in their East Village studios. And on our Instagram, we love to post inspo (I’d like to think we were doing it before The Row tysm).

This isn’t new. Artists have borrowed from fashion - and fashion from artists - for centuries (there’s a reason the Met has a Costume Institute & The Museum at FIT has a whole exhibit dedicated to it rn).

It’s quite literally…wearable art.

Today, we’re looking at three history-making fashion x art collaborations that changed everything: Dali x Schaperilli, Mondrian x Yves Saint Laurent, and Warhol x Versace.

Plus, some of my favorite fashion voices are sharing THEIR fashion collab picks (stay for deep cuts!).

And make sure you comment YOUR favorite fashion x art moment below.

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The very first Art x Fashion Collab

But first…what was the first art × fashion collab?

It’s the early 1900s, and Parisian fashion designer Paul Poiret is the man of the hour. In France, they call him Le Magnifique. In America, he’s known as “The King of Fashion.”

He’s often credited as the first modern couturier - and he’ll forever be remembered for freeing us women from corsets into looser fits & being pro-bra instead. But he also had the cunning to do something else…

In 1910, he hired a Fauvist painter - Raoul Dufy - to design printed silks for his couture house. It was a match made in art heaven. Dufy was known for painting scenes of the good life - regattas, orchestras, palm-lined promenades - in bold color. Poiret took that genius and turned it into something you can wear.

The result: woodblock-printed textiles in Fauvist color. Take a look…

In his memoir The King of Fashion (1931), Poiret wrote, “Am I a fool when I dream of putting art into my dresses, a fool when I say dressmaking is an art? For I have always loved painters … It seems to me that we practice the same craft.”

In his mind, dressmaking and painting were the same craft. It’s no surprise that a couple of decades later, avant-garde designer Elsa Schiaparelli agreed.

3 Art x Fashion Collabs You Need to Know

1. Salvador Dalí x Elsa Schiaparelli (1936)

No one knows exactly how Salvador Dalí and Elsa Schiaparelli first met. A Paris salon? A premiere? One of Dalí’s Surrealist dinner parties? However it began, they turned Surrealism into wearable art, launching one of the most iconic art × fashion collaborations in history - and a lifelong friendship to match.

The collab:

Read more

Before we had paper, pencils, and very cute USPS Good Night Moon stamps, we were already writing love letters. Yup - for over 4,000 years.

The world’s oldest love letter was actually a love poem. Written around 2000 BCE on a clay tablet in ancient Mesopotamia using cuneiform, the earliest known writing system (made by pressing tiny symbols into wet clay). The sweet nothings translation = not far off from a Hallmark card: “Dear to my heart, goodly is your beauty, honeysweet.”

Flash forward a few thousand years. By 1477, the first modern love letter shows up in plain English. Written on paper in medieval England, a smitten lover opens with: “Right reverent and worshipful, and my right well-beloved Valentine.” Swooooon!

Before we had modern language, we’ve been using whatever materials were available to say I miss you! I love you! Please write me back!

Famous artists are no different. We tend to know them through their big, public declarations of love - Johannes Vermeer’s Love Letter, Frida Kahlo’s The Love Embrace of the Universe, Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss. But those works are meant to be seen. Their love letters aren’t.

In personal correspondence, artists come off impatient, needy, tender - annoying, even! They’re writing from trains, hotel rooms, sickbeds, studios. These letters show us what the paintings can’t - the timing, the stakes, the emotion surrounding it.

The art shows us what they made. The letters tell us why - and for whom.

So with that, I’ve collected love letters of famous artists, from Frida Kahlo, Auguste Rodin, and Georgia O’Keeffe. And what’s inside? Everything the art leaves out.

P.S. stay tuned for everything I'm loving at the end.

7 Love Letters of Famous Artists

[🌹 Note: letters are listed in chronological order]

1. Auguste Rodin and Camille Claudel, 1886

The artists:

The Great Rodin was known as the father of modern sculpture - but his greatest collaborator (…and mistress! and muse!) is only recently being recognized. Let’s say hi to Camille Claudel.

It’s 1881. Camille arrives to Paris at just 19 and she’s dead set on a career as a sculptor - which is pretty much impossible in the 19th century. This girl had guts. She meets 43-year-old Rodin - an already established sculptor - and he knows she’s GOT it.

He takes her on as his student. Soon after, his lover. The skeptic among us may even suggest he is the reason she’d be inducted into an asylum years later.

The love story:

At first, Camille & Rodin have it gooood. During their decade-long flame, they push each other into some of their best work - Rodin with Eternal Springtime and studies for The Kiss - and Camille does a number with The Waltz & Sakuntala.

Then it starts to get MESSY. Rodin was - oh! - dating Rose Beuret this entire time and wouldn’t leave her. Camille is financially dependent on him - then becomes pregnant and has an abortion.

Camille ends the relationship. Rodin still quietly supports her career until he sees her The Age of Maturity - a very public portrayal of him choosing Rose while Camille reaches after him. It hits too close to home! He literally cuts Camille off.

Not long after, Camille’s mental health goes south. She’s committed to an asylum until her death in 1943 - taking her artistic legacy with her. But their letters are proof of what was once a brilliant (if not toxic) collab.

The love letters:

Put one of Rodin’s letters next to one of Camille’s and…OOF. The imbalance is right there. His, from 1886, is all passion and obsession - grand declarations about art and desire. It sounds romantic but he’s holding the power: he’s the teacher, he has the money, he has the girlfriend on the side.

Camille’s letter, from 1890, feels totally different. She writes about her day, a walk she’s taking - then lands the P.S.: don’t be unfaithful to me again.

This little shift is everything - his intensity feels like a performance. Hers is just asking for clarity. Only one will walk away clean!!!

2. Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz, 1916-1947

The artists:

When Georgia O’Keeffe first met Alfred Stieglez in 1916, the power dynamic was real. He was married, in his 50s, and ran one of New York’s most influential galleries. Georgia was just 28, a school teacher in Texas, and totally unknown.

She mailed a small group of abstract charcoal drawings to her friend who marched them into Stieglitz’s gallery, 291. He was stunned! And hung them immediately.

Georgia was not happy. He’d shown her work without asking. But she was also… intrigued. Who was this mysterious man with all this confidence? The two began exchanging letters.

The love story:

What started as casual artistic admiration got intense. FAST. Within a year, Stieglitz left his wife and O’Keeffe moved to New York in 1918. He photographed her obsessively. They married in 1924.

But do not fear! There was plenty of drama. He controlled her exhibitions as her fame grew. She wanted kids; he didn’t. Georgia started to get restless - and in 1929, she decamped to New Mexico. Then Stieglitz began an affair - and Georgia found out. In 1933, she was hospitalized for severe emotional trauma. I don’t blame her!

Despite all that, they stayed married - writing, visiting, but living independent lives (Georgia! a modernist heroine) - until Stieglitz died in 1945. She was in the room with him. After, she spread his ashes into Lake George.

The love letters:

From the moment they met in 1916 until Alfred Stieglitz died, Georgia O’Keeffe and Stieglitz wrote thousands of letters - basically a nonstop convo that lasted their entire relationship.

They were almost always long-distance - so their letters are where the relationship truly lived. One of my main takeaways - they’re very modern love. It wasn’t all pretty flowers. There was jealousy, affairs, and mental breakdowns.

Take a peek at a few:

3. Isamu Noguchi to Andrée Ruellan, 1924-1927

The artists:

You probably know the iconic Isamu Noguchi for his paper lanterns on everyone’s Instagram feed - but all of that comes much later…right now it’s 1924 and Noguchi just turned 20.

By his twenties, Noguchi is already Mr. Worldwide: Los Angeles to Japan to Indiana to New York (he dropped out of Columbia to go full-time sculpture - bad a$$). He’s ambitious! Unmoored! In motion. Just three years later, he’ll make the detour that changes everything: becoming an apprentice to Constantin Brâncuși.

At the same moment, Andrée Ruellan is 23. She’s a fresh spitfire art star, just off the heels of the Art Students League in New York. She lands in Paris after an art scholarship in Rome. Noguchi passes through Paris this same year and oh la la! That’s where they meet<3

The love story:

Is there a better city than Paris for falling in love?! Nope - and that’s exactly what this pair does - fast!

Noguchi is handsome, spending his days modeling plaster busts and nights pinkies up in cafés. Ruellan is young but self-assured - she committed to a career in painting.

It’s fun and spicy - but it burns quick. After Noguchi returns to NYC, they exchange a few brief letters before fizzling out. An ocean between them - ugh! It’s just too much!

By 1929, Ruellan already rebounded and married. Noguchi is devastated. He’d later go on to have many relationships in his life (…including Frida Kahlo, which ended in Diego pulling a pistol on him) - but nothing lasts long. He chooses the work.

The love letters:

Love stories aren’t always novels - some are footnotes, but this one is more like a little scribble in the margin. Read Noguchi’s letters - you can just feel the distance pressing in.

But not all hope is lost! What I love about these letters is the side of Noguchi that they reveal. It’s a version of him that’s still vulnerable. He’s young! Open to attachment! A long term partner may never have been in the cards - but in these brief, loving notes, it almost is.

How lovely:

4. Man Ray to Lee Miller (1930s)

The artists:

When Lee Miller met Man Ray, he was already THE Man Ray - a key player in Paris Surrealism. Meanwhile, Lee had just moved to Paris as a Vogue model - but she didn’t want to just pose anymore. She wanted to MAKE the work.

She showed up at Man Ray’s studio and announced she would be his student. He said he wasn’t taking on any. She stayed anyway. What was next? Not just a romance - it was a true collab that would change the history of photography.

The love story:

They became lovers immediately. From 1929–1932, Lee was Man Ray’s muse, collaborator, subject - and his equal (even if history isn’t always caught up to that part).

During this period, they co-discovered solarization, one of photography’s most iconic techniques - a breakthrough that’s long been credited mostly to him.

The dynamic was a ticking bomb though. He took countless pics of her, turning her into a muse. Lee’s independence was growing, though - she decided to learn everything she could - and then left. Man Ray was heartbroken - channeling it into his work (Indestructible Object, 1965 was a post-breakup woe).

There’s a silver lining: they stayed in touch, even remained friends, for the rest of their lives. It was a relationship that outlived something as “earthly” as romantic love.

The letters:

Unlike the long archive of letters between Lee Miller and her second husband, Roland Penrose, her correspondence with Man Ray barely survives.

There’s one handwritten note that floats around that I just love (see above!). I miss you, I miss you … I kiss you - labeled as a love letter from Man Ray to Lee. Just one catch: we don’t actually know that it was hers. The recipient is unconfirmed, and the Rue Férou letterhead places Man Ray there after WWII, well after their romance had ended.

What we do know? They stayed in touch for the rest of their lives.

In one of the few letters that is firmly documented (without photos), Man Ray wrote to Lee on March 14, 1975 - decades later - and signed off like this:

“I am pinned down in my little retreat… But not to my loves—like you, I mean—I love you.
— Man”

Maybe that’s why the lack of letters feels so special?! Their relationship is something larger than a simple paper trail.

5. Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, 1940s

The artists:

Frida Kahlo is one of the most prolific painters of the 20th century - but did you know that during her lifetime, her husband Diego Rivera was more famous than her?

Read more

We’re coming up on one year of The Rose Period and - wow!! What a year!! I’m so grateful for every single one of you. We’ve somehow built this little community that stretches across the world - Istanbul, Australia, Poland, Belgium, New Zealand, Kampala, Turkey, London, Paris, New York, even my OG home state, Minnesota. <3

We’ve done an endless amount of learning together. Over the past year, I’ve shared the work of 263+ women artists, 12 newsletters, 252 current obsessions, 2,160+ works of art - and so many of them I discovered through you. How great is that?!

Learning together is exactly the point. My goal in starting The Rose Period was simple: art should feel accessible. No art history degree required. (Especially because…I don’t have one either.)

So if you’ve ever felt behind, you’re in good company. I get this a lot: “I want to learn more about art, but I don’t know where to start.”

Here’s our little Rose Period secret: be curious🌹

Read. Listen. Visit museums. Talk to people who love art. Start with one artist and go down the rabbit hole. Build your own mental museum. Screenshot the things you love. Make folders on your phone. Skip around! You don’t have to go in order. You don’t have to take it so seriously. It’s just art - learn however you want. A little at a time (or whenever it feels good). Learning about art shouldn’t be a chore. Let’s make it fun!

And to get you going, I gathered everything in one place.

Here’s a hand-picked list of books, podcasts, and Substacks to begin (or deepen!) your art education - no art history degree required.

P.S. keep scrolling for a new art pen pals program (!) and a list of everything I’m loving rn.

BOOKS

Guess what! Even if you don’t have the full novel in you, you’ll learn a little something from my summary.

1. Ninth Street Women by Mary Gabriel

Buzzwords: underrecognized women artists, Abstract Expressionism, American modern art, post-war NYC

If you only read ONE book on this list, make it this one. Ninth Street Women follows five women artists over 25+ years as they fight their way into (and then shape) New York’s Abstract Expressionist scene in post-war NYC. Think: the original cool downtown girls crashing the boys’ club.

The storylines are so rich you’ll leave with wildly specific opinions about people you’ve never met. How could Elaine stay married to Willem de Kooning?! Joan Mitchell - icon, but exhausting. Jackson Pollock would be NOTHING without Lee Krasner. Helen Frankenthaler was the og influencer. Obsessed with the fact that Grace Hartigan started signing her paintings “George” so the collectors would take her seriously.

P.S. it is also the book that started my passion for women artists - and it has a cult following for a reason.

One of the characters mentioned in the book - Mary Abbott, who I wrote about here:

2. Picasso’s War by Hugh Eakin

Read more

Have you sent out your holiday cards yet? I hand-drew these for Alex Mill (!). As I started my correspondence assembly-line for this year’s batch, I kept thinking about all my famous art-world compatriots - and the cards they must have sent.

Here’s the thing: we know famous artists for the big, bold, museum-scale work - but we almost never see the quiet, intimate scraps that filled the rest of their lives. The grocery lists. The calendar notes. The holiday cards.

Handwritten ephemera is the most personal thing about someone. And it’s becoming a lost art.

So I went down an art rabbit hole. And what I found? A treasure trove of special, beautifully designed, and rarely-seen handmade cards artists once sent to their closest friends.

So here it is: handmade holiday cards from famous artists from Lee Krasner & Jackson Pollock to Saul Steinberg, Alexander Calder, and Helen Frankenthaler.

And stay for the end for my current obsessions rn.

Holiday Card History

OK before we dive in, let’s back it up. When did we start sending holiday cards in the first place?

It’s 1843 in London, and Sir Henry Cole is STRESSED. Cole had many more friends than he did time - and as a well-respected educator (& future founder of London’s V&A Museum), he simply could not keep up with his correspondence.

His solution? Outsource it, baby.

Thanks to the newly minted “penny post,” which let you mail a letter anywhere for just one penny - Cole commissioned his artist friend J.C. Horsley to bring his vision ~to life~. Horsley sketched it up, and on the back they printed a simple “TO” - so all Cole had to do was dash off a personalized greeting and pop it in the mail.

And voila! The very first Christmas card is born.

The tradition stuck - and eventually grew so everyone was in on it - from Queen Victoria to avant-garde American artists who would later become icons in their own right…

10 Holiday Cards from Famous Artists

Personal cards sent to personal friends

[🌹 note: cards are listed in chronological order - it is especially fun to think about the overlap. Who used the same stamps? Who had whose card pinned to their fridge?]

1. Alexander Calder (unsent), 1930

The artist: It’s 1930 and Alexander Calder is ringing in the new year in Paris. He’s nearing the final year of his infamous Cirque Calder - the tiny traveling circus of wiry acrobats, lions, and dancers he packed into a suitcase and performed for his bohemian artist friends (I wrote about it here - also art PSA: it’s the 100th anniversary this year at the Whitney!).

Somehow - in between circus performances and visits to artists like Mondrian’s studio - he still found time to print and send this card to his artist circle.

The card: well, well, well, it looks like we’ve got a naked Baby New Year ringing in 1930 with none other than “Sandy” Calder himself. How fun! The unlikely duo instantly calls to mind Calder’s wiry circus performers - this same playful, slightly chaotic spirit he’d carry straight into his most famous work - the mobile. Movement, motion, mischief - typical Sandy!!!

For more Calder:

• Two very giftable books, for the holidays or otherwise: the Calderisms pocket book, or Calder at Home.

• See Cirque Calder IRL at the Whitney (Not in NYC? I wrote about both in my newsletter here).

• THIS vintage lithograph omg (also love here, here, and here if you wanna go crazy)

• I ADORE his lesser-known hammered silver jewelry.

  • Channel the Calder spirit with these earrings here and here. And a spiral brooch here - or personalize with your initials like his creation for Georgia O’Keeffe here.

2. Lee Krasner & Jackson Pollock to Ray and Charles Eames, 1946

The artists: When Lee Krasner and Jackson Pollock sent this card in 1946, they couldn’t have predicted what was coming. They had just moved to Springs, NY - and just a few months earlier, in the big drafty barn out back, Jackson made his first drip painting.

Within a year, he’d create the works that shook the art world. A decade later, he’d be dead. But in this quiet, almost-normal moment of 1946 (before the fame! The chaos! The self-sabotage!), they were just a young artist couple sending a festive holiday hello.

The card: As much as I want to credit Lee, the wiry glyphs and webby lines are unmistakably mid-40s Jackson. At this point, Lee had put her own career on pause so his could take off:/ He made the art; she ran everything else - social calendar, business dealings, the holiday cards.

Don’t worry tho: after Jackson’s death via car crash in 1956, Lee’s career finally skyrocketed. She turned Jackson’s barn into her own studio and her work GREW. Literally in scale and figuratively in importance. She finally had the space to be herself. Justice for Lee forever.

Who are the lucky recipients? The incomparable Ray and Charles Eames. Ray Eames and Lee Krasner had met through Hans Hoffman in NYC years earlier - the two couples stayed close. The Eameses adored championing emerging artists and were probs intrigued by Jackson’s early experiments.

For more of Lee & Jackson:

• My favorite podcast Art Holes did a whole series on Jackson. The podcast is so strange but loveable - it’ll grow on you and you’ll never look back.

• If you want to get to know the real hero of the story - Lee Krasner - read my favorite ever book Ninth Street Women

• Ulla Johnson licensed Lee’s prints for their SP25 collab (a few sizes left here)

3. Robert Motherwell to Joseph Cornell, 1946

The artist: In 1946, Robert (“Bob”) Motherwell was deep in downtown New York’s postwar art scene - broke, inspired, and crowding into the Cedar Club to debate (and drink) into the wee hours of the night. Little did Bob (and his friends like Lee and Jackson) know they were on the brink of inventing a defining American style: Abstract Expressionism (the term that wouldn’t even be coined until 1952).

The card: If you look at Bob’s early work, this card feels like a clipped-off, lovingly discarded scrap of it - especially his collages, which he was deep in at the time.

The card reads like a little experiment: small, intuitive, and laying the groundwork for his big monumental paintings to come.

Get to know Bob Motherwell:

• Can’t miss ’s newsletter on his Quonset hut designed by Pierre Chareau in 1947

• Collect an original lithograph - his black and white work is stunning

4. Andy Warhol to George Klauber, 1948

Read more

Holiday gifting is stressful enough. Why not make it fun? I’m organizing The Rose Period’s first annual gift guide by the thing that matters most to me when I shop (and, well, work): color.

So here it is: a ROYGBIV spectrum of holiday gifts for the art and design obsessed.

What you’ll find:

• Special, unusual, personal, and unexpected gifts for the art and design lovers (and let’s face it! Everyone likes to think they are).

• All price points - including free(ish) (because handmade is best).

• No branded or paid endorsements - these are truly OWN picks.

• A few fun stories along the way - learn something new AND make your gift personal!

OK, let’s get into it. Your holiday shopping list, in palette form. 👇

RED

🌹 fact: red is the first pigment ever made. Read The Rose Period’s history of red here.

1. The Met Membership ($115): or any local museum of your choice (the MoMA, Frick, or Tenement Museum are fab NYC options). Best part - give them the present of skipping the lines!

2. Cashmere Socks ($75): THE BEST GIFTS ARE ONE-SIZE!!!! You cannot go wrong with Alex Mill’s 100% Cashmere socks.

3. Handmade in Australia Resin Vase ($240): from a cult Australian studio working with resin since the 1980s. Not cheap but a treat.

4. My favorite sweater ever ($178): If you gift ONE sweater this year, make it this one. The Taylor cardi (Alex Mill’s all-star) is cotton-cashmere with the sweetest rollneck. Literally looks cool on everyone.

5. Hand-Painted Monogram Tote ($175+): The Alex Mill Perfect Tote is THE gift of all gifts - 9 colors, one-size, and personalized with hand-painted initials by artists in Brooklyn. I’m addicted to gifting this!!!

   • Add in a fun keychain - I love these from Berlin designer Ina Seifart (made by hand!)

6. 2026 Art-of-the-Day Calendar ($23): my mom gave me this last Christmas, and it’s a true source of joy in my morning routine. Each tear-off is its own artwork - I’ve saved so many to rabbit-hole the artists later.

7. Vintage Candy Wrapper Design Book ($35): 500+ vintage candy wrappers in one brilliant book - a dream gift for the nostalgia-minded design lover (ME).

8. 19th century-esque Stationary ($266 +): Holiday wedding gifts, anyone? Jonathan Wright is the spot for old-school stationery - hand-printed in LA on vintage presses. Get it engraved with their newlywed names and you have WON!!!

9. Vintage Made in France Baby Clothes ($25+): for your friend who’s expecting - this charming Parisian vintage shop has one-of-a-kind baby pieces (shoutout to my girl who let me in on this secret).

10. Artists At Home Coffee Table Book ($45): I got this for my bday and absolutely adore it - 30 iconic artists and the spaces where they lived/worked.

11. Florentine Incense ($30): from Santa Maria Novella, the legendary Florentine apothecary founded in 1221. As us art people know, change the scent change the mood.

PINK

🌹 fact: Elsa Schiaparelli didn’t just love pink - she invented her own shade. In 1937 she launched “Shocking Pink,” along with her instantly sold-out perfume Shocking.

1. Hand-painted Rock Art ($40 + shipping): I’m obsessed with these pop-art-style creations from NYC artist . She finds each rock in the wild and lets its shape guide the design. Talk about a gift that starts a convo!

   1. Elizabeth’s done taking commissions for the year, but DM her for her current rock inventory. I’m buying this HoHo rock for inside my fridge.

2. Helen Frankenthaler Stationary ($17): if they still pen thank-yous via pen & paper get them stationery featuring their favorite artist. (add artist stamps for a level up)

3. 1970-1990 Judd Furniture Book ($70): a look at Donald Judd’s iconic furniture era - and I love the bright fushia color.

4. Jean de Brunhoff’s Babar Posters ($40): for the new baby in your life - sweet Babar art by the iconic French illustrator. What an easy way to make a nursery feel storybook-magical.

   • Also obsessed with this vintage 1980s poster if you’re in a splurgey mood (or if YOUR baby is your giftee).

5. Pink Radicchio Serving Bowl ($98): Vegetable-shaped ceramics date back to 18th-century Europe. This is the modern - and oh-so-fun - take: Italian clay turned into a pink radicchio bowl from Porta NYC.

6. Charvet Slippers ($450): give them (or yourself) bespoke Charvet slippers - from the Paris atelier worn by Proust, Manet, Monet, and half of literary history.

   1. Charvet is still best shopped in person at their historic Place Vendôme storefront, but if you call or email, the boutique will sort you out.

   2. These pink velvet ones happen to be in my size — and if you’re shopping men’s, these are extremely chic.

7. Sophie James Wine Club ($238): I love a woman artist - and a female-run organic wine farm is basically the F&B equivalent. A membership is the ultimate treat. (My sister works there so I’m biased, but I truly haven’t had a better rosé.)

8. Handcrafted Pink Spoons ($9): so frivolously unnecessary but wow aren’t they fun? Pair them with an egg cup and you’ve got yourself a very chic little set.

9. Rose Scented Incense Papers ($8): Every creative NEEDS a good studio scent. Papier d’Arménie is my secret weapon (and just $8). Bonus!! It’s been around since 1885, which means it’s actually older than the Eiffel Tower.

10. Louise Carmen Pocket Notebook ($130ish): beautifully handcrafted in Paris - a keepsake for the artist or writer who’s always sketching on receipts

11. Japanese Neon Watercolors ($22): Get them a paint color they can’t find anywhere else. This neon set is notoriously hard to track down (I found mine IRL) and sells out fast.

12. Andy Warhol’s 1950s Hand-Drawn Books ($80): 5 books created before he was famous - and includes two Rose Period favorites, his wonderfully nonsensical recipe book, & 99 Cats Named Sam.

    1. Buy it used here

YELLOW

🌹 fact: Van Gogh’s sunflowers were once an even brighter yellow - the Cadmium Yellow he used has chemically faded over time. Read The Rose Period’s full history of yellow here.

1. Antique Art ($80): from a NYC hidden gem I learned about from - Fox Object - it’s a literal treasure trove of vintage art and objects

   1. [Ed note: one of you already snapped this piece up, but there are plenty of other treasures.]

2. Ripple Glasses ($35): designed in NYC by Sophie Lou Jacobsen & made from borosilicate glass (fancy but durable!).

3. Rare Giorgio Morandi Vintage Poster ($145): Omg this exhibition print from the Italian master has never been framed and was kept in archival storage. Buy it before I do!!!

4. Vintage Resin Bangle ($45): creative people need creative accessories - my stylish friend stumbled upon Marion Godart bangles on eBay and our text chain has been popping off since.

   1. Three more options here, here, and here (Sofia’s exact one!)

5. Japanese Glue with a Cult Following ($8): Fueki Doubutu Nori Glue is a historic character in Japan - beloved for over 40 years with an IYKYK reputation. Perfect for the kid (or crafty friend) in your life.

6. A Butter Yellow Sweater in 100% Cashmere ($298): Who wouldn’t want to unwrap cashmere?! I swear by ours at Alex Mill - it’s 2-ply, Grade A cashmere (aka the caviar of the cashmere world).

   • As we know, yellow is having a moment rn - perhaps gift them a Rose Period Subscription so they can learn about the history of yellow while we’re at it;) ily guys!

7. Handmade Striped Yellow Vase ($98): how fun are these sunny little stripes from Porta NYC? All art lovers will appreciate it - it’s basically waiting to star in a still life.

   1. Print out this Robert Motherwell piece as your card as the full experience!

8. 9th Street Women by Mary Gabriel ($14): TOP GIFT FOR ART LOVERS, HANDS DOWN. For anyone interested in art (or wants to learn but doesn’t know where to start), this is IT. It tells the story of the five women who shaped NYC’s Abstract Expressionist movement in the 1940s–50s - and omg it is life changing.

   1. It took me over a year to read - tell them it’s okay to take their time!

9. Fancy french butter ($9-$70): Antoine Vollon’s Mound of Butter is an IYKYK masterpiece devoted to butter itself. The French have always treated it like fine art - so why not gift the real thing?

   • French butter is notoriously hard to find, which makes it the perfect present. Maison Bordier is the crème de la crème - it’s tricky to source but you can order online (get a few to justify $50 shipping).

   • Other French favorites: Echiré, Isigny Sainte-Mère, and Le Beurre de Baratte - all available on Instacart or at spots like Murray’s Cheese.

10. Handblown Yellow Drinking Glasses ($15/each): handmade in Michoacán and impossibly charming - design lovers on your gifting list will SWOON.

11. Shane Gabier’s Vases ($250+): the best gifts are handmade. Gabier is one of the most exciting ceramicists out there rn - I fully expect future accolades. Think of this as an investment piece!!!

12. 100% Cashmere Beanie ($98): don’t know what to get them? You cannot go wrong with this beanie. It’s cashmere, it’s one-size (no guessing!!!), and it comes in so many fun colors.

ORANGE

🌹 fact: before the 1800s, “orange” wasn’t a color - it was just “yellow-red.” The color only got its name after the FRUIT became widely known in Europe.

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If you want to make a statement, do it with red. Louboutin’s signature heel. Diane Vreeland’s “Garden in Hell” apartment. Georgia O’Keefe’s blooms. It’s a trick as old as time - because red is our world’s very first color.

Today we’re diving into the secret history of red (!)…from mysterious Pompeii villas to empires dyed in bugs’ blood and a painting intense enough to cause violence.

Keep scrolling for guest red picks by , , , , , , - and comment your favorite red pick after this!

P.S. after you’ve painted red, read about more secret color histories here:

WHEN DID THE RED CONQUEST BEGIN?

Let’s rewind. Before Matisse’s Red Room, before Diane Vreeland’s scarlet salon, before Valentino claimed an entire shade, humans were already obsessed with red.

Why? It’s primal. Besides black and white, red is the first color babies see - and the first color humans had a word for.

It’s not a designer invention; it’s literally the earth itself. Red ochre was the first pigment we ever dug up - smeared on bodies more than 300,000 years ago, and painted as bison on cave walls over 40,000 years ago.

Red came first - and guess what - it never left. We’ll break down the history of the world’s loudest color into the three pigments (and the iconic works) that changed everything.

1. VERMILION: the prince of reds

Take a bow - you’re meeting pigment royalty. Vermilion: the brilliant red of the ancient world - worth its weight in gold - and chased no matter the cost.

Back it up: Vermilion has been dazzling - and dangerous(!) - for centuries. It’s made from a natural mineral called cinnabar (a brilliant but VERY toxic red). Chinese alchemists mastered it as early as the 2nd millennium BCE.

Brighter than ochre, rarer than most pigments, and deadly to mine - naturally, everyone wanted it MORE. Vermilion lit up Chinese lacquerware, ancient frescoes, and medieval manuscripts.

By the time it reached ancient Rome, it was as costly as gold (second only to ultramarine).

Costly and with looks that could kill? The Romans said yes please! Their massive cinnabar mine in Spain was sooooo toxic many (enslaved) workers never made it out alive. Still, they smeared it on walls, statues, triumphal parades - even cosmetics.

And our best evidence? A Pompeii fresco…

Villa of the Mysteries in Pompeii (c. 1st century BCE/CE).

In 1909, archaeologists struck gold (or shall we say red) outside Pompeii: a villa sealed since 79 BCE. The craziest part = what was inside: a fresco blazing in red-hot vermilion.

It was so magical they called it the Villa of Mysteries - and you can still see it today. Why shall we care? It’s proof the Romans had an eye for design: if they used red, it had to be the best. Deadly, costly…unbeatable.

Synthetic vermilion enters the medieval chat….

Although Ancient Chinese alchemists cracked the recipe for synthetic vermilion (cleaner! cheaper! more accessible), Europe didn’t rediscover it until the 9th century.

By the Renaissance, it was the crown jewel of the palette - beloved by the Old Masters. Here’s one of my favorite paintings that uses it:

Jan van Eyck, Arnolfini Portrait (1434, National Gallery, London)

The Arnolfini Portrait is one of the most intriguing paintings in art history. Do you know this couple? What’s going on in that strange little room? Who’s in the mirror?!

There are endless ways to analyze it, but for our purposes, let’s zero in on the ~status symbols~. This couple is RICH rich. The lapdog (a prized breed), the fur-trimmed clothes, the fancy brass chandelier.

But the real luxury is in the paint itself. That ultramarine blue = ground from lapis lazuli hauled in from Afghanistan. That blazing red vermilion = as costly as gold.

We could study this painting’s mysteries forever, but the Arnolfini Portrait is also a portrait of wealth - and van Eyck knew exactly which pigments to use to flaunt it.

Vermeer is another master known for his use of lavish pigments:

Vermeer’s Girl with the Red Hat (1665–1666), National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

With Vermeer’s jewel-box paintings, every pigment is intentional. Even more so in this one - Girl with the Red Hat is one of his smallest works, and red steals the show. Its glow = from a thin layer of pricey vermilion.

Vermeer was known for splurging on expensive pigments that eventually drove his family into debt (hello, lapis lazuli) - and this painting is no different (sorry fam! He had to do it for the red).

And the girl?! Art historians agree that this isn’t a portrait but a tronie - a stock type, not a specific person. He painted a milkmaid, a lacemaker, a pearl-earringed girl.

Which leaves us here: who is she? She’s just a girl who wants to be noticed in her red hat. And don’t we all know someone like that? Aren’t we all, in some way, just a girl in a hat, hoping to be seen?

Vermilion once reigned as the Old Masters’ red of choice - but by the 20th century, its toxicity was impossible to ignore. Painters finally moved on to safer reds - among them the natural pigment, cochineal.

2. COCHINEAL: the secret bug that built empires

Does bugs’ blood strike your fancy? It certainly does strike ours - that’s exactly how the next iconic red was made. The shade behind ancient textiles, lipstick, and cherry Coke. It’s dazzling! It’s fleeting. It’s everywhere. Drumroll, please…for cochineal.

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BIG day for us art lovers: the master New York art list is finally here.

The thing about art is - there’s nothing quite like seeing it IRL. Since starting this newsletter, I’ve been sharing weekly must-see art recs around NYC.

But what you haven’t seen - months worth of notes app chaos, 1,000+ open tabs, and group chats collecting every single art spot worth knowing in the state…all so I could eventually share it with you<3 Well, today is the day!

What follows is THE ultimate guide to where to see art in New York, curated by me and 14 very cool people who know their stuff:

, , , , , , , , Merie Subryan, Lauren Youngblood, Alisha Bansal, , and .

Save it. Share it with your friends. Plan all your fall art trips. Take pics and send them to me.

P.S. paid subscribers get a Google Maps version of the list (plus subscribing supports the work I put into this and it would mean the world 🌹).

New York City

The five boroughs are packed with art. It’s almost overwhelming. Almost. Now it won’t be anymore! Here’s my edit of the very best - vetted by people who know.

Museums

THE BIG FIVE - the og NYC icon museums. You know them! You love them! I’m listing them anyway so we have them in one place (and sharing some facts you might not know).

The Met (Upper East Side) – the OG of OGs since 1870. It’s the largest museum in the U.S. and a favorite for a reason. Here’s why a few of our contributors love it:

• , creative director of Alex Mill, my boss, and author of Somstack: “i’m a huge proponent of quality over quantity but what do u get when both are GREAT - you get the Met.

  I love the Met for so many reasons, but i really love how big and all encompassing the collection is - from the tiniest grecian earrings to the grandness of the Temple of Dendur- how about the 5 Vermeers and 3 Caravaggios next to Pollock’s Autumn Rhythm and Picasso’s portrait of Gertrude Stein. Quantity and quality.”

  

• , founder of LES Collection and author of Whimsical World: “The Greek and Roman art department is a huge source of inspiration for my work at LES. I love to go with my daughter, who knows everything about Greek and Roman mythology from obsessively reading the Percy Jackson series.”

• , author of Your Friend In Food: “When I was a broke college student, I’d take advantage of the pay-what-you-can policy, turn my phone off, and spend hours among Manets and Monets. It was as therapeutic as any yoga class.”

The MoMA (Midtown East) - aka the greatest hits of modern art - where America first met Van Gogh’s Starry Night. I love that it was founded by three women (so radical at the time!).

Make sure you say hi to Edward Hopper’s House by the Railroad (1925), which was the first work acquired.

• the founder of Crown Affair and author of Take Your Time has the MoMA on her list because it’s where she met her husband (!)“at a René Magritte curatorial walk-through in 2013.” Art finds love!!!

The Whitney (Meatpacking) - think: America America America. Heiress Gertrude Vanderbilt founded it after The Met refused her donation of 500 works by living American artists. USA modernism is still their focus today.

P.S. It’s free on Fridays!

The Guggenheim (Upper East Side) - New York’s temple to modern art housed in Frank Lloyd Wright’s white spiral. He designed the spiral to be walked top-down - and shows are always staged with the building’s curve in mind. Hilma af Klint’s 2019 blockbuster proved just how ~iconic~ that can be.

The Frick (Upper East Side) - Henry Clay Frick built his private mansion with strict instructions that it become a public museum after his death. Go Henry! You’ll love all the Old Masters there.

• , interior designer and author of The Last Layer, had no problem admitting it’s his favorite: “especially the Green Room with the Turners. Those canvases hold light in a way that feels less like depiction and more like memory. Hazy, elusive, and deeply human.

  The Rembrandts, by contrast, radiate a different kind of light, one that feels inward and psychological, as if the figures are illuminated by the gravity of their own lives.

  What I love about the Frick is how intimate the setting is. You do not feel as though you are in a museum so much as a home.”

Smaller cooler museums and foundations your mom would probably love…

Neue Galerie (Upper East Side) - Basically Vienna in NYC - German & Austrian modern art thanks to Estée Lauder’s son Ronald. Known as the home to Klimt’s Woman in Gold, the infamous portrait stolen by the Nazis & only returned after a juicy legal battle (watch the movie starring Helen Mirren before you go)

• Stop at Cafe Sabrasky for lunch or tea. It’s a Viennese cafe without the plane ticket.

• is right when she calls it “a quieter favorite on the UES. When I don't have the time to walk around the MET but I'm in the neighborhood, I love popping in here.”

Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design (Upper East Side) – reopening 11/21/25 - the Smithsonian’s design museum - hang out in Andrew Carnegie’s old mansion, built in 1902. It’s got typewriters, textiles, Tiffany lamps, and the coolest design objects you didn’t know you needed to see.

• , author of Schmatta, is who I go to for design recs: “I’ll always go to the Cooper-Hewitt, no matter what’s showing. It’s just mind-boggling to think that someone (Andrew Carnegie) actually lived in the building. If it’s warm out and you need a place to read, just go sit in the garden.”

The Jewish Museum (Upper East Side) - slept-on modern art exhibits thanks to wealthy patrons who lend private works - check what’s on before you go.

Bronx Museum of the Arts (Concourse, South Bronx) - free admission with a focus on artists of color and Bronx voices.

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In 1944, the little‑known Swedish painter Hilma af Klint died at 81, leaving behind 1,200+ works - and one big rule for her nephew: don’t show them for 20 years (the world wasn’t ready for them).

Her dream? That one day they’d hang in a spiral, a shape she believed was charged with spiritual power (yes! she meant that literally).

Flash forward to 2018. The Guggenheim - a giant spiral - hosts her blockbuster show. Seventy‑four years later, the world is finally ready for what she’d been doing all along: bold abstract work with otherworldly connections, painted years before the men that got the credit.

Hilma didn’t just make art - she sent it to the future. Without further ado, let’s light some candles and meet our girl:

Who she was:

Allow me to introduce you to Hilma af Klint - the Swedish artist and mystic who painted some of the very first abstract works in Western art history (yessss honey!).

Despite a nest in the Swedish nobility, Hilma wasted no time breaking ALL the rules. She never married, had woman lovers, never had kids, and instead committed herself fully to her art. But not the typical café table, cigarette-in-hand artist life - Hilma’s inspo came from séances and spiritual circles.

And if you asked her, she wasn’t making art at all - no! She was simply translating messages from the beyond. Hilma knew the world wasn’t ready for her art yet - her dying wish was to keep her work hiding for 20 years.

Back it up, what is abstraction?!

Basically art that doesn’t even try to show reality. We’re used to it now but back in the day - it was freaking crazy.

Abstract art started in the late 19th century as an attempt to show the invisible. The first abstract painters (think: Kandinsky, Mondrian, Malevich, and Hilma ofc) were obsessed with the spiritual world - and used color, lines, and forms to channel higher powers (I had no idea that abstraction began as a mystical project?).

The “official” story tends to start with the 19th-century guys - it was widely accepted that Kandinsky created the first abstract painting in 1911. But here’s the thing: Hilma’s first abstract work? Made in 1906.

For decades, Kandinsky got the credit - partially because Hilma’s paintings were hidden away per her instructions. It wasn’t until her 2018 Guggenheim blockbuster that she finally started getting her due (it’s about time).

Where she came from:

It’s 1862 and Hilma is born into a Swedish naval family and swept into the world of nobility (thank you Hilma’s fam for having funds to send her to art school).

Hilma’s independence actually starts with a law. In 1863 when Hilma was one, Sweden passed a new order that made unmarried women legal adults, aka they could own property, keep their own money, and yes - even have careers. Hilma’s parents let her choose her own path and our girl decided - ART.

In 1882, she was admitted into the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Stockholm (one of the rare European schools that allowed women) and got REALLY good at it (so good that she graduated with honors). Her early works show she had a gift.

One of the oldest knocks on abstraction = “anyone can do it.” So before we dive further into Hilma’s work, let’s set the record straight. Hilma was a classically trained, incredible artist. So when her work gets wilder (“my four-year-old could have painted that”), remember: there’s zero question about her skill.

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In May, my friend Kelsey Keith (creative director of Miller Knoll) invited my boss Somsack and me to a panel celebrating the new Herman Miller x O’Keeffe x Girard x Eames collab (a true meeting of the design minds).

The panel featured the grandchildren of Alexander Girard and Charles & Ray Eames. Representing O’Keeffe was the director of her museum - Georgia had no children herself.

When Som and I left, canapés and Girard-snake bandanas in hand, we couldn’t stop talking about how CRAZY it was that we were in the same room as literal descendants of 20th‑century icons. One had Girard’s hands. Another had Charles Eames’ exact little face! We were with living history.

It got me thinking: what other ghosts of famous artists are walking among us? Are there mini Monets mulling about? Matisse juniors running design firms? (Yes.) And maybe more interestingly, whose lineage didn’t continue? Why?!

So I took to my (digital) colored pencils and started tracing. What follows is a highly unofficial (but very lovingly researched) family tree of 25 iconic artists - plus a few ghost stories along the way….

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Last summer I was designing my cousin-sister’s wedding invitations when I stumbled across my inspo: page after page of whimsically delightful cake illustrations by Andy Warhol (you can see the influence in my final work!).

After a little digging, I found the origin story: the cakes were the punchy dessert course from Wild Raspberries - the hand-illustrated cookbook Warhol published 34 copies of in 1959.

Famous artists’ foray into food is perhaps par for the course. Of course food & art go hand and hand - both are so emotional. They create community! It’s all about the presentation! The aesthetic.

But - artists are hardly known for what they ate (re: the “starving artists” epithet, they are perhaps more well known for what they didn’t). Warhol’s books got me thinking - what other artists made meals as unusual as their work?

Dinner is served and Warhol, Dalí, and O’Keeffe are on the menu.

3 famous artists and their cookbooks you need to know about:

1. Andy Warhol’s Wild Raspberries (p. 1959)

It’s 1959. Young Andy Warhol has been living in NYC for 10 years - working as a commercial illustrator for Tiffany & Co, Glamour, and The New York Times. In just 3 years, he’ll debut his iconic Campbell’s Soup Can and seal his place in the art world canon forever. Not yet.

First, Warhol teamed up with his bestie socialite Suzie Frankfurt and his mother Julia Warhola to self-publish a cheeky little cookbook: Wild Raspberries. It had 18 recipes and was bound by hand. They couldn’t find a publisher so they made just 34 copies - mostly gifted to friends.

The book: Like everything Warhol did, the book was not your ordinary cookbook. Look closely at the recipes and you’ll start to notice…there are some things amiss.

“Piglet á la Trader Vic’s” requires sending a chauffeur to fetch a suckling pig from the Plaza Hotel. The “Gefilte of Fighting Fish” instructs to let the fish “battle” in seawater until they debone themselves. “Greenages a la Warhol” calls for a fruit only avail "in the last three days of June in the northern parts of Wisconsin.”

Aka the whole thing was a total bit. Yes - Wild Raspberries is less of a recipe book and more of a spoof of 1950s French haute cuisine culture popular at the time. As Suzie Frankfurt called it, it was “a funny little cookbook for people who don’t like to cook.”

Now the original books are selling for $124,500+. Jokes on who?!

The recipes:

Impossibly impossible recipes - if anyone can find a way to cook these - send me pics. I’ll start by translating the calligraphy for you.

1. Piglet

“Contact Trader Vic’s and order a 40 pound suckling pig to serve 15. Have Hanley take the Carey Cadillac to the side entrance and receive the pig at exactly 6:45. Rush home immediately and place on the open skit for 50 minutes. Remove and garnish with fresh crabapples.”

2. Chocolate Balls a la Chambord

“Decorate a ten inch round silver platter with maraschino cherries, fresh mint and almond filberts, then call up the Royal Pastry Shop and have them deliver a pound of half inch chocolate balls. Serve only with no-cal ginger ale. To be served to very thin people.”

3. Dorothy Kilgallen's Gateau of Marzipan

“For those who are able to secure a portable refrigerator from Abercrombie and Fitch, this cake is perfection for those spur-of-the-moment picnics in the country. Bake a large marzipan cake in a 13 inch oval mold and a brandy snap dough that has been braided into strips. Remove from the oven and shape braided stripes into a handle for the cake basket. Decorate the handle with almonds, mint flavored cherries, marzipan strawberries and fill with pistachio ice cream and rosettes of marzipan. Always a hit on those sailing sessions on the Cape.”

The cherry on top: Warhol’s Wild Raspberries is a cheeky little rejection of haute cuisine - and a little tease of what he’d champion next. Soon, Andy would be celebrating the exact opposite of the food he critiques in his book. His eyes?! Set on the sugary, delicious world of the mass-produced: think green Coca-Cola Bottles and the iconic Campbell’s Soup Can. Pop Art revolution is about to begin, and we are ready!

2. Georgia O’Keeffe’s Sun-Drenched Recipes Cards (1950s-1970s)

Georgia O’Keeffe was a total hippie when it came to food. We’re talking total crunchy granola health food nut (might explain why she lived to 98). Her upbringing also offers a crumb: O’Keeffe grew up on a dairy farm in Wisconsin, where she’d make bread and cheese by hand on her days off.

By the time she moved to New Mexico as a successful artist in 1949, her health-conscious spirit had stuck. She tended a garden bursting with fresh vegetables, herbs, and fruits, even drying, freezing, and canning them for winter.

Luckily for us, Georgia kept meticulous records of what she ate from 1950-1970s, in the form of a little tin of multi-colored index cards she hand-wrote herself. Yale Library bought them in 2020, and I have dutifully paged through all 515 scans online.

The recipe box:

O’Keeffe’s recipe cards are a small treasure trove - organized A to Z, sun-drenched, dog-eared, clearly well-loved. Unlike Warhol and Dalí’s recipes, hers are refreshingly simple: “Chicken,” “Fresh Apple Sauce,” “Asparagus Soup.” Many recipes call for just two ingredients, all fresh from her garden - no flair, no frills.

As you browse, O’Keeffe’s personality comes through. A recipe for “rich cookies” dryly notes: “these are a bother, but good.” Another recipe teases a poetic spirit: “mint leaves: dip in egg white & sugar. Dry in good current of air.” O’Keeffe had a keen eye for detail and didn’t cut corners: to make whole wheat bread, she used a wheat grinder. Butter was churned by hand.

The recipes:

1. Buck wheat Pancakes

2. Apple sauce

   

3. Sorrel Soup

The final bite: The way Georgia O’Keeffe approached food was just like how she approached her creative life - on the outside, simple and without flair. Dig a little deeper? Complexity, careful calculation, and an unwavering eye for detail.

If you don’t have time to page through Yale’s archives, pick up a copy of A Painter’s Kitchen published by her assistant Margaret Wood after Georgia’s death.

3. Salvador Dalí’s Les Dîners de Gala (p. 1973)

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A few months ago, I started a little note series called “Women Artists You Should Know,” which is, of course, exactly what it sounds like: a quick scrollable look into iconic (but lesser-known) women artists. What you don’t see? All the tabs I have open, learning every little juicy detail & never-told stories about them. And it’s time that my little art club gets IN on this deep dive too.

Enter today’s star: Mary Abbott - the debutante-turned-Abstract Expressionist who has a major NYC show right now.

Without further ado…

Meet Mary Abbott—The Woman Artist You Should Know (and everything you should know about her). From what she wore to who she loved–and all of her best work, of course. You’ll be on first-name basis by the end.

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Who she was:

Allow me to introduce you to Mary Lee Abbott (1921–2019), the American Abstract Expressionist who left her mark on NYC’s postwar art scene - but has been overlooked for decades.

Born into privilege in the Upper East Side, Mary was your classic blue-blooded uptown girl. But instead of settling for the typical debutante life, she headed downtown - and quickly fell in step with the avant-garde Abstract Expressionists like Pollock, Krasner, Frankenthaler & Willem de Kooning (they were lovers for a time!).

What is abstract expressionism, you may ask? It was *the* movement that put American art on the map. Post-WWII, New York was BUZZING. Europeans were fleeing fascism - and crossing paths with scrappy NYC artists ready to break. the freaking. rules. Canvases became big. Brushstrokes loose! Gestural. Subject matter?? More of a ~feeling~.

Abstract Expressionism is a scene people tend to associate with the guys: Jackson Pollock, Willem de Kooning, Mark Rothko. The men became international celebs - but here’s the thing: the women were there too. Painting just as boldly! Thinking just as radically! We gotta give the girls - like Mary - their moment. It is about time.

Where she came from:

Let’s get things straight. Mary Abbott was rich. Born July 27, 1921, she was a true Upper East Side high-society girl. She had a pedigree - literally a descendant of Presidents John Adams and John Quincy Adams. Her dad was a decorated naval officer - her mom, a poet and Hearst columnist.

She attended the ~very elite~ Chapin School and summered in Southampton. In 1941, Mary made her grand debut at the Colony Club (crowned the “most glamorous debutante”) then got snapped by Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Glamour, and Mademoiselle.

Mary had every advantage money could buy - but here’s why we love her! She never settled. She funded herself through two divorces via modeling gigs, moved downtown to a gritty East Village loft, and earned respect in NYC’s Abstract Expressionist scene. Mary Abbott had privilege, but she also had serious grit and talent. Go girl.

How she got into art:

Just like Frida & Warhol - Mary’s entry into art started with some good old-fashioned trauma. Bedridden with complications from pneumonia at age 9, she later said - “I wasn’t with beauty and nature anymore—I was seeing it from the outside. So for the rest of my life, I’d paint to get with it again.”

She started her art education early- age 12 at the Art Students League (pro-tip, it is still around). Three schools later, at 27 & freshly divorced post-WWII, Mary modeled to pay for her East Village apartment - then got introduced to the key figures of the Abstract Expressionist scene.

She enrolled in a class Subjects of the Artist school - a short-lived but legendary experimental program founded by Rothko, Newman, and Motherwell. Suddenly, she was at the red-hot center of it all.

Where she hung out:

The Colony Club (est. 1903 - today)

Mary is in her teenage years and she’s slipping into a bespoke pair of satin gloves, getting ready for her official debut. Tucked into a tree-lined street on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, the Colony Club is where Mary “came out” to society (it is still one of NYC’s most infamous private clubs today).

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It’s no secret that yellow is having a moment. The clock struck 2025 and suddenly it’s everywhere - the Prada runway. Timothee’s suit. Jacquemus’ marketing. But did you know it’s one of the oldest colors in human history? Yellow has always been used to make a mark - literally - and we’re taking a deep dive into why that is.

P.S. after you've had your yellow fix, make sure you’re caught up on the secret history of blue👇

WHEN DID YELLOW START TO TAKE OVER?

Ok let’s go back in time. Way back! Before sunflowers or butter sculptures…before anything close to “art” as we know it, humans were already reaching for yellow.

Why? Because it was everywhere. Yellow is one of the most naturally occurring pigments on earth. 300,000 years ago, early humans were using yellow ochre to decorate their bodies (prelude to Chanel runway?). 17,000 years ago, our OG artists - prehistoric cave painters - made the first yellow pigments to paint galloping horses in France’s Lascaux caves.

From the beginning, yellow wasn’t subtle. It marked bodies! It caught eyes! It poisoned people (more on that later). Throughout history, yellow has been a color that’s impossible to ignore.

So how did yellow swing the pendulum in art? We’ll break down the history of yellow into the four paint pigments (and famous works) that changed everything.

1. ORPIMENT YELLOW: the deadly star of the ancient world

Let’s start with some DRAMA. This pigment was beautiful enough to rival gold, unstable enough to ruin your masterpiece, and dangerous enough…to kill you. Meet orpiment: the femme fatale of the ancient pigment world.

Back it up: orpiment is one of the first naturally occurring pigments dating back to ancient Egypt. It’s made by grinding up a mineral THICK with arsenic sulfide (yes, poison!!!). Egyptians used it for tomb murals and eyeshadow (cute! deadly!). Romans treated it as “poor man’s gold,” a substitute for actual gilding. In the Islamic golden age, it was used in illuminated manuscripts.

It was brilliant - but it was also wildly toxic. By the Middle Ages, the public knew it was dangerous - but we used it anyway. Because nothing else matched its golden glow.

Poisonous paint for the sake of color? That’s true love. And Rembrandt was one of the guys that said yes please.

Rembrandt van Rijn’s The Jewish Bride (c. 1665)

Our dear Rembrandt is known as a master of light. And he’d use whatever materials necessary to get that ~dramatic effect~. Think: strange combos of paint ingredients, incompatible pigments. You see that in the Jewish Bride - he painted with orpiment to color the bride and groom’s sleeves. Yes, he knew it was toxic & chemically unstable. And yes! He used it anyway. Nothing else got him that almost ethereal glow. Visual pay off = worth it.

2. LEAD-TIN YELLOW: the yellow that disappeared

How does a color go from being the yellow of the Old Masters to totally forgotten? Let us get! on! the! case! of lead-tin yellow - the pigment that disappeared in the 1700s only to be rediscovered in 1941.

Back-it up: after its debut in the 13th century, lead-tin yellow was the hot yellow in town - slowly replacing orpiment as a glowy & (slightly less) toxic alternative.

The old masters LOVED it. It lit up the palettes of the Italian Renaissance (Titian alert) and Dutch Golden Age (cc: Vermeer, Rembrandt). But by the 1700s, it simply disappeared - replaced by some trendy newcomers like Naples and Chrome yellow.

For over 200 years, lead-tin yellow was pretty much hiding in plain sight until a German scientist (why is it ALWAYS a German scientist?) was studying historical paintings in 1941 and came across this mysterious yellow. He realized it wasn’t Naples or ochre but its own thing: lead-tin yellow. He REVERSE ENGINEERED it to bring it back to life. The yellow of the old masters has returned! What a comeback!

Vermeer was one Old Master who put it on the map:

Johannes Vermeer’s The Woman with a Pearl Necklace (1664)

Vermeer was famously slow - just 34-35 paintings in his lifetime - so every pigment used was very intentional. Unlike Rembrandt, Vermeer only a handful of carefully selected colors, all made by hand. His go-to yellow? Lead-tin.

Lead-tin was warm. Stable! Could give him that ~fancy glow~ Vermeer is known for. Orpiment was too volatile & chrome yellow didn’t exist yet. Lead-tin yellow was the only choice.

Keep reading to my Guest Curators’ Yellow Picks below - Somsack blesses us with Vermeer commentary I can’t stop thinking about….

P.S. I was curious if lead-tin yellow ever made its way back into popular art - the short answer is no. By the time it was rediscovered in 1941, modernism was already in full swing. Now, it seems to be made by niche pigment companies, mostly for historical analysis or restoration.

3. CHROME-YELLOW: Van Gogh’s golden child

When you think of Van Gogh’s sunflowers, you’re thinking of Chrome Yellow - it’s the yellow of the Impressionist era.

Back it up: it’s 1809 and Chrome Yellow was born in a lab (19th century = peak time mad-scientist-pigment-boom). Our artist crowd LOVED it. It was rich! Saturated. Totally alive.

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What was your earliest memory of art that really meant something to you? I remember mine. I was 5 years old in St. Paul MN and my alternative pre-school just finished our unit on belly dancers (YES!!) & was onto the next. It was on a French artist who would send me head over heels into a lifelong love of art. Yes, you guessed it: claude<3 monet<3

We sipped sparkling apple juice, pretended to picnic in Giverny (cue five-yr-olds’ version of French accents) and I drew my own Monet-inspired bridges with those chubby crayons I still think about once a week. A few years later, my first painting would be of that very scene.

No matter who you are, you remember that first piece—the one that stuck. Maybe it was in a children’s book, a classroom, a museum with your mom. So I asked 11 of some of the most creative people I know:

“What’s the first piece of art you ever loved?”

Joe Henry Baker

London-born NYC-based artist whose work you’ve seen on the walls of Gem Home, The Invisible Collection, The Somerset House, and more. Follow him on Instagram here.

I was 14 years old and living in London when I visited the Tate Modern to see Olafur Eliasson: The Weather Project. This was an entire takeover of the impressive turbine hall - a warm and soft light installation at one end bathing the entire space in a comforting glow, reminiscent of a setting or rising sun, both of which bring comfort, joy, and a certain level of anticipation. As part of the interaction with the piece, the entire ceiling was covered in mirrors. Without instruction, viewers were enticed to lay, splay and play on the floor in the light, forming shapes and groups, and losing inhibitions. The entire experience was mesmerizing, hypnotizing and intoxicating.

Interesting then to see later in life how light has played an important role in my work:

Ali LaBelle

Author of A La Carte, founder of Ali LaBelle Creative, and fellow pasta appreciator

My first real art memory is of George Seurat’s 1884 painting A Sunday on La Grande Jatte thanks to Ferris Bueller's Day Off. I was maybe 4 or 5 when I watched the movie for the first time, and in addition to it being a pivotal film for me sartorially (I thought Sloane was the coolest) and musically (I went on to become The Beatles' youngest fan), it left a lasting impression on my budding artist brain, too.

In the scene, Cameron is having an existential crisis as he stares into the face of the girl at the center of A Sunday on La Grande Jatte, and while I had no idea what it all meant at the time, it now hits me as an adult differently—I always tear up at that part.

My mom taught me about pointillism after the credits rolled and I spent many afternoons thereafter stabbing the tips of my markers into construction paper to try and practice it myself.

Gordon Winarick

Artist behind Winarick Studios (v Rothko-inspired paintings which I love), actor & model - one of our faves for Alex Mill;)

The first piece of art I remember truly falling in love with was Joan Miró’s Bleu III (1961). I was 22, maybe. I had thought I loved art before, but seeing this painting redefined what love for a piece could feel like. It wasn’t just admiration. It was recognition, like something inside me had been named without words.

Bleu III struck me because it’s deceptively simple. Just a few forms suspended in an endless, celestial blue, yet somehow, it felt complete. There was a sense of freedom in it, like the painting didn’t care what anyone thought. It was daring and childlike, yet precise and intentional. At any moment, it felt like it could either explode and swallow the world whole or vanish into thin air without a trace. That kind of tension, restrained yet immense, is what made it unforgettable.

It taught me balance. It showed me that art doesn’t have to shout to be heard.

It stayed with me because it made me feel something I couldn’t explain. That mystery felt like a kind of truth. I think that’s what great art does. It shows you something about yourself you didn’t know you were looking for.

Find more of Gordon at @gordonwinarick or @winarickstudios - and his available works here.

Emilia Petrarca

Fashion editor and writer you’ve definitely seen in NY Mag, The Cut, WSJ and more. She is the author of Shop Rat on Substack.

When I was around nine, my dad, who was an architect, took me to the MoMA. I found the museum mostly boring, but I remember my eyes lighting up at the sight of a big, red blow-up chair on display in a room full of other home objects from the permanent collection.

Designed by Jonathan De Pas, Donato D’Urbino, and Paolo Lomazzi in 1967, The Blow Armchair was the first mass-produced piece of inflatable furniture, and probably the first design object I became truly obsessed with.

I wanted this chair so bad. I begged for it. I dreamt about it. I never got it, but I still think about it often, and it has probably informed my sense of high-low taste. It was only until I purchased the couch currently in my living room that I realized how deeply it had been lodged in my subconscious.

I also bought an inflatable stool from Prada last year, so I’ve finally come full circle.

Somsack Sikhounmuong

Creative director / co-founder at Alex Mill, incredible ceramicist, author of Somstack, my boss & bestie

I was in 4th grade - 9 or 9 years old - at AGO (the Art Gallery of Ontario) when I saw Claus Oldenburg’s Floor Burger (1962) for the first time.

It wasn’t so much “love at first sight” but maybe “shock then smile at first sight.” Up until that moment I knew paintings and drawings and busts were art but a GIANT soft dusty hamburger?!?! How could this be?? It didn’t fit and def didn’t make any sense but boy did I LOOOOOOVE IT. This piece reset the parameters of what art could be for me- art didn’t need to sit within the 4 sides of a frame nor sit atop a pedestal. The Hamburger was silly, monumental, and absurd!! I was too young to understand the full extent of what Claus’ work meant to the art world but as I saw more pieces I started to understand. I love that the Hamburger is dusty and a bit unrefined. I love that he elevated this everyday thing but put it on the floor and that everytime I see it I’m reminded that art can be many things and one of those things can be FUN.

Lauren Sands

Founder of LES Collection in Brooklyn, writes Whimsical World on Substack (my favorite piece on Elsa Schiaparelli here) and has impeccable taste in emerging artists and designers

The first artist and work I ever fell in love with was Martine Lepore - I must've been around 10 or 11. She was local to Rochester, where I grew up, and her work was everywhere inside Artisan Works—a wild, eclectic art warehouse my family would visit often. We even had a couple of her pieces at home. Her art was a little weird, sometimes even dark, but it had this way of revealing the strange beauty in the world.

I've always been drawn to things that are a little weird (sometimes very weird, though back then, I was just dipping my toe in). Martine's paintings had this dark whimsy to them; there was a bit of glamour but also something unsettling. It lingered with me. It made me feel alive, like the world was full of hidden magic.

I was lucky to grow up surrounded by that kind of art. It shaped the way I see things now.

Jalil Johnson

Author of Consider Yourself Cultured, our everyday style icon, and a very good wearer of hats

The first piece of art I remember seeing, really seeing, was when I was around four or five. Whether I truly loved it or was simply so mesmerized that my fascination has since morphed into love in my memory, I’m not sure. It was a sculpture by Philippe Wolfers called Le Chant du Cygne, which translates to The Song of the Swan. The title feels a bit misleading, though. The piece isn’t some delicate or romantic rendering of a swan mid-song. Instead, it’s a swan cast in metal, wings spread wide, one webbed foot pressed firmly against the belly of a snake mid-struggle.

At that age, I didn’t really know what I was looking at. I just remember feeling a little scared and a little thrilled, like I’d stumbled onto something I wasn’t supposed to see. It was beautiful, yes, but also wild and strange.

I never really asked why my grandmother always made a point for us to see that sculpture, but maybe she noticed that it intrigued me. Maybe she read that spark of curiosity as interest and decided to feed it by making it part of our ritual. Whenever I visited Richmond, we always went to the museum, and no trip was complete without a stop in the room with the Fabergé eggs and that statue.

I think what’s always stayed with me is how it shows the duality of beauty. Even the most graceful creatures have to fight. So why give up, even when life feels hard?

Conway Liao

Founder of Hudson Wilder (the iykyk design space in Brooklyn) & of design consultancy BAD (he’s got that *eye*)

When I was 21 (in 2001), I visited Europe for the first time. The last city I ended up in on my 2-week trip was Amsterdam, by myself. This was before smartphones and Google Maps.

I booked a hotel randomly online and printed our directions to the hotel from the airport on Mapquest. The hotel happened to be a block away from the Van Gogh museum. I grabbed breakfast at the hotel and headed to the museum. I've always admired his work but seeing his works in person brought on a much deeper level of appreciation.

Each brush stroke had so much emotion and depth, you could experience his deep psychiatric struggles. My favorite piece were the Sunflowers.

Kelsey Keith

Author of Ground Condition (which I recommend constantly), Creative Director at Herman Miller

The portrait of Baldassare Castiglione by Raphael, from 1515. It's housed in the Louvre and is one of the quieter/less flashy 'destination' paintings in that wing.

I was 20. I did my junior year abroad in Paris (it's a cliché for a reason!) and studied art history at the Sorbonne. In that program, all students had a free museum pass so you could skip the queues and just go hang out... and stare at paintings.

This portrait is out of time—its luminescence that doesn't erase the character of Baldessari but underscores it. Raphael's technical skill is really evident here (look at that fur shawl!) but the portrait represents so much more: its naturalness, the subject's direct gaze, the minimal, muted background. Those things scream 'modern,' and that is hugely exciting from an artwork coming out of the High Renaissance.

Kelsey Rose

Eames Archivist living in Basque Country, France & my new internet friend with the best art substack Absolument!

My earliest, vivid memories linked to loving art are centered more around me making art—drawing, painting, and crafting up clothes for myself at the age of four. But the first real piece of art I ever fell in love with? That’s way more tough!

It’s a little less conventional than being captivated by a painting like Starry Night, but I think most people will relate to the wonder of what I remember best.

I can distinctly recall a school field trip to my local art museum when I was eight years old. While waiting with my classmates to enter the building, I found myself totally entranced by the entry’s textured, green-stoned wall. I knew we were visiting an Egyptian exhibition, so I methodically traced my hands over the facade’s jade-colored pebbles and ridges while thinking that I had found paradise at what I nicknamed “The Egypt Museum.” Inside, I remember being floored by hieroglyphic paintings and a glimmering tomb. Maybe the architecture itself was the first piece of art that I fell for? It was a mosaic of stones that sparkled at little-me like they were stars in the sky.

Over a decade later, I worked at The Egypt Museum (its real name: the Phoenix Art Museum) while studying art history at university. A year after, I found myself similarly enchanted by The Met’s Egyptian wing just after moving to New York City.

And, almost fifteen years after that—today!—I’m still itching to learn more about the histories behind artworks, architecture, and places all over the globe. Perhaps I need to whisk myself away to Egypt next to bring this love of art full-circle.

Sandy Sanchez

Author of Small Pleasures, writer, and advocate of tiny things (like me)

Aside from being intrigued by a Starry Night poster in my 1st grade art class, I didn’t grow up going to art museums or knowing anyone who was into art. But I did have Tumblr! And that ended up being my introduction to art as a teen. My love for art continued to grow throughout high school to the point where I became the president of our school’s art club. It was during this time that I first became seriously obsessed over a piece of art: Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s “Divan Japonais” (1893).

At the time, I was 15/16 and taking IB and AP Art classes. One of my art teachers throughout high school was named Mrs. Luciano. She was an incredible Italian woman with big curly hair who loved painting. I stumbled upon the world of cabaret posters while looking for inspiration one day, and when I saw “Divan Japonais” I immediately fell in love with it.

The muted but still interesting background, the seated pose, her extended hand, the red-orange hair, the chic outfit. There was so much movement in the poster, and I liked the combination of words and visuals. The piece gave me an exciting peek into Parisian nightlife and culture during the late nineteenth century and I loved it. This piece featured some key people from that scene: can-can dancer Jane Avril in the middle, singer Yvette Guilbert in the background with her head cropped out, and writer Édouard Dujardin on the right.

You know you really enjoyed a piece of art when it makes you curious and you end up researching for hours afterward. That’s one of the reasons why this piece stuck with me. Whenever I see work from Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec now, it always brings me back to that time when I first fell in love with art and it’s so special.

Ok there you have it! 11 very cool creatives on the first art they ever loved. One common theme I found fascinating: so many of us trace our FIRST memories of art back to around age 4 or 5 - usually the first time we start to remember things. But the art that really left a mark often hit us in our formative early 20s. All of that is to say: as soon as my future child turns four, they’re getting a computer-paper printout of this Joan Mitchell painting and a copy of 9th Street Women in their tiny hands - consider it part of the dowry (duh).

As Jerry Saltz puts it in his memoir…

What artwork really pulled the rug out from under you?! Sound off in the comments.

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P.S. leaving you with a human interest story - my preschool teacher who introduced me to Impressionism, didn’t just turn me into the ~cultured soul~ I am - she has a VERY ACTIVE Facebook page where hundreds of her former “Room Zoo” students share memories of how she shaped their lives.

The posts usually come with photos from our wonderfully chaotic curriculum: a Bob Marley quote, prayer flags from our Mount Everest unit, and most often — a picture of someone standing in front of Monet’s Water Lilies or wandering the Monet Gardens.

Many times the legacy isn’t the art itself but the person who got us there<3 That is awwwww!!!

As always, make sure we are friends everywhere - find me on insta at @rfranderson and tell me your first art love in the comments below!

This week, we’re looking into the forgotten, surprising, and oh-so-very-cute world of miniatures in art. Because isn’t everything better mini?

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My Instagram algorithm knows I like tiny things. Who doesn’t? These Japanese miniature life sets are an instant DM. This little art show has matchbox-sized paintings. And my new happy place: an Upper East Side miniatures shop where everything fits in the palm of your hand.

Tiny art is viral eye candy. It’s clickable, it’s shareable, it’s adorable. But it didn’t occur to me that miniatures could be a serious art form - until I was doing research for my modern artist jewelry post & discovered Calder’s debut into the art world started with a teeny tiny circus (more on that below).

I began to wonder - what other mini art forms have been overlooked or forgotten, either because of the literal scale or because the high art world didn’t take them seriously beyond a cute “oooh and ahhh?”

It took a little digging (doll-sized shovels only), but discoveries were made…

Here are 3 great examples of miniatures in art that everyone should know about:

1. Alexander Calder’s Cirque Calder (1926-1931)

It’s 1926, and Alexander Calder has just moved from NYC to Paris with dreams of becoming an artist. His first major work? A beloved miniature circus, built from crumbled candy wrappers, a twisted egg beater, rhinestones, and wire. It came complete with flying acrobats, roaring lions, and a little clown who blew balloons. Tiny whimsy at its finest.

But circus wasn’t meant to sit still - no! It was a performance. Calder toted the whole thing around in a suitcase, staging shows for the café crowd of Montparnasse - acting as the ringmaster, puppeteer, and sound effects guy (all in one!).

Why the circus? His grandson explains:

“My grandfather grew up at the end of the golden age of the American circus (1871–1917), and as a young man, he studied the formalities of the circus arts with great intensity. In the spring of 1925, he spent two weeks illustrating the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus in New York for the National Police Gazette. When the circus relocated to its winter grounds in Sarasota, Florida, he followed it there and continued sketching.”

The golden age of the circus! I’m so in (reminds me: Ali LaBelle did a fantastic circus-inspired mood board that Calder would surely approve).

Word got out about Calder’s performances & the who’s who of bohemian Paris wanted in. Marcel Duchamp, Jean Cocteau, Man Ray, Joan Miró, and Piet Mondrian were all Circus-goers. The friendships formed here shaped his career - it was Duchamp, in fact, who gave Calder’s kinetic sculptures their now-iconic name: “the mobile.”

When Calder moved back to NYC, he took “Circus” with him - performing it at Park Avenue parties before it finally found its forever home at the Whitney Museum - where you can still see it today.

Here’s Calder’s infamous performance - if only I could hire him for my 30th bday -

Why is the circus worth remembering? It set the stage for everything Calder would become famous for - wire forms, kinetic magic, a sense of play and wonder.

Oftentimes, artists’ earliest work is the most formative yet forgotten about. It’s easy to remember Calder for his massive mobiles in the MoMa’s atrium but the quieter masterpiece? Something small. Handmade. Intimate!

A wonderful, tipsy little circus touted around Paris in a suitcase.

In many ways, Calder’s entire career came back to the playfulness he first found in the circus ring.

2. Marcel Duchamp’s Boîte-en-valise (1935-41)

“Everything important that I have done can be put into a little suitcase”—Marcel Duchamp

Not long after Calder carted his miniature circus around Montparnasse, Marcel Duchamp was bouncing around Paris and New York with a suitcase of his own. It looked like a simple traveling case - but inside? A mini museum. Meet Duchamp’s Boîte-en-valise.

Translation: “Box in a suitcase.” Inside were 79 tiny replicas and reproductions of his most famous works.

Back it up: You probably know Marcel Duchamp for his most infamous work: Fountain (1917) — aka the iconic urinal that became high art. It was part of Duchamp’s “readymades,” or his ~radical~ proclamation that art didn’t require making anything at all. A bicycle wheel. A bottle rack. A snow shovel. It shocked and horrified all at once (which we love).

By the time Duchamp created his suitcase, he had already caused quite a stir in the art world. The Boîte-en-valise - in its v classy Louis Vuitton case - was his way of showing off the hits. Full-size urinals and bike wheels aren’t exactly portable, so he shrunk them down.

But Boîte-en-valise wasn’t just a party trick - it was a strategic way to preserve and transport art on the brink of a war. It was 1930s Paris & borders were closing. Avant-garde art was famously being seized and destroyed - there is NO way Duchamp’s work would have passed inspection.

To make the first suitcase, he had to get creative - Duchamp posed as a cheese salesman (!) & traveled through Nazi-occupied France using a German-issued pass and a display case with secret compartments. Behind the faux cheese samples?! His mini artworks - smuggled through checkpoints under everyone's noses. Genius!!

When he finally got to NYC in 1942 (with suitcase in hand), Duchamp was ready to whip up more versions. He created around 300 versions of the Boîte during his life - each a little different & personalized for museums, collectors and friends (Peggy Guggenheim got one, of course).

It was a great exercise in self-promotion - the suitcases were essentially the first art girl’s online portfolio (Wix.com, anyone?!). He essentially took control and created his own retrospective while he was living - all in mini form. Conventional? Of course not - but what else would we expect from Duchamp.

3. Théâtre de la Mode: 27-inch dolls that saved Paris fashion post-war (1945-1946)

Let’s go back in time to 1945 Paris. World War II just ended and the city is in ruins. Food is rationed, fabric is scarce. What was once the capital of art and fashion is barely scraping by. Fancy evening dresses and glittery bags?! Who had the time.

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I love art trips. But finding planning and researching them isn’t easy. When I started The Rose Period, I knew I wanted to create art museum guides to solve two main problems:

1. You love to plan trips around art - and know the best ones take some digging! These guides will ~reveal~ the most special art destinations - hidden gems, worth-the-hype spots, and exactly how to turn them into the perfect day (or weekend).

2. You’ve been dying for a resource that gives you a leg up. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve arrived at a museum with zero context, no tour booked, and 50 tabs open on a mad dash for research. You shouldn’t have to do that! This guide will give you all of the most interesting, unexpected things to know - so you can stroll in with a little extra cachet.

Our first itinerary will be on the inimitable Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia - aka my new favorite place in the world.

BARNES FOUNDATION: THE FIRST MODERN ART MUSEUM IN AMERICA

49 Picasso’s. 59 Matisee’s. 69 Cézanne’s. 181 Renior’s. All owned by one man?! Stacked together in one room?! The Barnes Foundation is Philadelphia is the most fantastic private collection of modern art – and effectively the United States’ first modern art museum - that you’ve never really heard of. And it’s all an easy trip away.

KNOW BEFORE YOU GO:

What makes this museum different? The Barnes Foundation is unlike anything you’ve seen before - hundreds of famous works of art you’ve only read about - tastefully crammed together in one room. There are no distracting wall plaques or white walls. Paintings are hung in symmetrical arrangements flanked by metalwork and candles. It’s a whole new way of seeing art. Your soul will thank you for the visit.

Who was Dr. Barnes? Yes - our untraditional hero of the story. Dr. Albert Barnes (1872-1951) was an eccentric billionaire (with a chip on his shoulder) who spent his fortune amassing one of the world’s greatest collections of modern European art. He grew up in a poor working-class neighborhood, took up boxing to pay his way through school, and struck rich by inventing a cure for venereal disease.

The interesting story is what he did with his money - Barnes was ahead of his time. The doctor had no formal education in art but developed an unusual taste for it.

Barnes made his way through Europe collecting modern art before it was cool (or even socially accepted). His first trip to Paris resulted in Picassos, Cèzannes, and America’s first Van Gogh. Within 10 years, he acquired more than 900 paintings. He started the Barnes Foundation in 1922 to teach people the value of art. The rules? No posh parties. No museum loans. The art couldn’t leave.

The big idea: Barnes wasn’t just collecting art - he was on a mission to change how people saw it. The Barnes Foundation was designed to be a full-blown educational experiment (not a sceney museum). He believed people of ~average~ intelligence (hey!!!) could learn to appreciate art, just by knowing how to look.

His method? Ditch names and dates - focus on the way the paintings make you feel. He arranged works in salon-style “ensembles,” mixing Reniors with African sculptures, Pennsylvania Dutch furniture, and metalwork (iron hinges, keyhole covers, door latches flank the paintings as equals).

The idea here is to get you making your own connections. Suddenly - a swirl of a Matisse echoes the curve of a hinge. You start seeing shapes you’ve never noticed.

My favorite part? Mixing in everyday objects humbles the art - and makes you appreciate the beauty in the every day.

But Barnes took his ideals to an extreme. You couldn’t just walk in; you had to write a letter and take a class to see the collection. And because Barnes made the rules, Barnes decided who could get it. If you were part of the elite? Denied. T.S. Elliot? Rejected. Le Corbusier? No dice. The New York Times art critic who wanted to write about the foundation? His letter back was a simple “NO” signed by Barnes’ dog (proof here). But a plumber from Philadelphia who wanted to learn? Well, of course, right this way.

Controversy, you say?

Do I ever! After Barnes was tragically killed in a car accident in 1951, he left behind an iron-clad will. The gist - the art was never meant to leave his original building in Merion, Pennsylvania. No loans. No tours. No reshuffling.

Fast forward to 2012: the collection now sits in a brand-new museum in downtown Philadelphia. What happened?! Well you MUST watch The Art of the Steal. It’s just over an hour (free on Youtube) and unpacks how the city of Philly found a legal loophole to move the collection - despite fierce opposition from art historians, Barnes loyalists, and pretty much anyone who read his will. It’s so juicy. A must-watch even if you’re not museum-bound anytime soon.

How to plan your trip:

• Book a train in advance. Our tickets from NYC were $23 dollars each way.

• Suggested train times from NYC: 9:30AM and 5:18PM from NYP to PHL. You need at least four hours in the museum - we had wanted to do Barnes and Philadelphia Museum of Art in the same day. Looking back it would have been impossible. There’s too much to take in at Barnes.

• Get a guided tour. Please! It’s so easy and adds so much value to the visit.

• Do a weekday if you can. We took Friday off and were back for Alisha’s reservation at Jean’s on Lafayette by 9pm.

• Watch The Art of The Steal before you go (no negotiations). You can also read the new Barnes biography that came out days after I visited (I’m halfway through).

COPY THIS ITINERARY:

After years of talking about it, I finally booked a trip - my two art-minded gfs Alisha and Marie in toe. Here’s a recount of our perfect day - along with little-known facts & secret tips, which you can and should copy.

8:30 AM: Left my Dumbo apartment with nothing but a little purse and took the F Train to Penn Station at 9:00am. I found Alisha by happenstance in the bathroom - we got ChaCha Matchas and marveled at how fancy Moynihan Train Station was.

9:30 AM: Joined Marie who saved us a little four-seater the train. The train left on time and we leaned in to talk about money, boys, and art for the one-hour-fifteen-minute journey.

11:15 AM: Arrived at Philly station. It was a twenty-minute walk to Barnes and we snacked on some mentos and ginger candies Alisha stashed in her bag.

11:45 AM: Got our tickets! Our original plan was to do a lap downstairs, get lunch, and finish upstairs. After we walked in, we were so overwhelmed by the amount of art that we immediately turned around & booked ourselves on the 1-hour highlights tour. It started at 1:30pm and so we made a rez at the cafe before it started.

12:00 PM: We popped our heads into the 15-minute art talk the Foundation gives at the top of every hour. You must attend! It’s a perfect set-up to the visit. Marie had a crush on the guide. He talked confidently about the museum’s backstory and we applauded him when he finished.

12:30 PM: Lunch. The cafe was perfect. We ordered three chopped salads with chicken and three diet cokes. Alisha and Marie took some still-lifes of our Diet Cokes while I was in the bathroom.

1:30 PM: Our tour started! The docent learned that Alisha worked at Christie’s and was immediately intimidated. Alisha did indeed correct her a few times.

A few key pieces that stood out:

Van Gogh’s Portrait of the Postman Joseph Roulin (1889)

Matisse’s The Dance (1932-33)

Picasso’s The Ascetic (1903)

Modigliani’s Portrait of Jeanne Hébuterne (1919)

2:30 PM: The tour ended and we did a circle two more times. On every lap I saw something new - I swear I could probably have done ten more and have a new experience every time. That’s the magic of Barnes.

3:30 PM: hopped into the Cecily Brown exhibit after. We found it a little overstimulating after all the art we’d seen. As Alicia pointed out, rotating exhibits like these are for the donors. It’s a retention play. Save it for your last ten minutes.

4:00 PM: We left the museum and wandered into a little used bookstore across the street. There was a great edit of vintage art books and a bookstore cat was sleeping on the shelves.

4:15 PM: grabbed some decaf coffees before the train. We walked down the Schuylkill River river and joked that we were in Paris. It was that lovely of a day.

5:18 PM train: Marie and Alisha departed home. I was staying for the weekend (more tips on that below). At 11 PM, Alisha texted me from her table at Casa Chipriani (Barnes probs wouldn’t approve). Marie went to bed early (she’s writing a screenplay). It was one of the most fulfilling happiest days I’d had in a while - all thanks to our boy Dr. Barnes.

MAKE A WEEKEND OUT OF IT:

It’s easy (and not too expensive) to stay the weekend - I did. Here’s how to complete the trip:

To stay:

• Yowie Hotel: ok this is a hidden gem - and where I stayed. Yowie is a design store I’ve followed on IG for years - and it turns out they have a hotel too. Expect candy-colored bathroom tiles, stacks of design books, and Ghia in the Fridge. It is super affordable, I locked it in for $154 a night.