When I was born in 1922, barely a hundred years after Indiana became the nineteenth state in the union, the Middle West already boasted a constellation of cities with symphony orchestras and museums and libraries, and institutions of higher learning, and schools of music and art, reminiscent of the Austro-Hungarian Empire before the First World War. One could almost say that Chicago was our Vienna, Indianapolis our Prague, Cincinnati our Budapest, and Cleveland our Bucharest.
Old Holland, traditional powdered pigments to the humble collapsible paint tube. An artist’s Colourmen since 1664.
Tea Mäkipää’s Eden II with Andrea Zittel’s Indy Island in the background.
707 Shady Lane (Dallas, TX)

So, good news/bad news. Bad news: the queen in my hive at Arlington Farms ceases to be. How do I know? I found some ...