This artist, probably best known for this painting at the Whitney, died Sunday.* He was a fantastic and unique artist who combined modern inspiration with medieval techniques to great effect. He was also an absolutely lovely man, and I'm greatly saddened by his passing.
I had the opportunity to meet George on several occasions during my time at now-defunct museum. At 89, I'm not sure he was entirely present, but I think that part of the reason I felt that was due to his sheer lack of understanding as to why anyone would want to meet him or discuss his work. He was nonplussed by the public's interest, both in his art and in himself. At the same time, I don't think anyone (even George) could deny that it pleased him, as well.
By the time I met him, he'd stopped painting; a combination, I think, of not feeling that he had anything left to say, and his own declining health. He rarely left his home and rarely had visitors. He had even stopped attending his church, where thirteen of his works still grace the sanctuary.
However, through a combination of enthusiasm and probably some sort of bribery, George agreed to do a book signing last year. As we seated him at the table in the museum, he looked blankly up at us. "You want me to do what?" It was simply beyond his comprehension as to why anyone would want his signature - especially on a book that he'd never seen before. His doubt was quickly forgotten, though, as he gawked at the massive crowd that lined up around him, smiling and eagerly holding their books and prints. The many visitors were delighted to meet him, and he couldn't help but be delighted with their smiles and tears as they explained what his work meant to them.
He resumed painting that week.
He also ventured from his home more often than had been his wont. Several months later, I was shocked to find George at a meeting of local artists. He sat cheerfully and silently in an arm chair as his colleagues flitted about the room. From time to time, another artist would come to sit beside him and engage him in conversation. There were several who utilized the same techniques, and more than one who identified him as an inspiration for their work. I think their enthusiasm and respect for his work took him by surprise - but he couldn't help but be pleased.
"Unassuming" doesn't even begin to describe him.
George lived a long and, I believe, full life. I'm glad that the revival of interest in his work came while he was still around to see it and wonder at it. And I hope he was still painting up until the end.
* Apologies for awkwardly avoiding his name, but Google would out me almost immediately if I included his full name in this post - I make more than a few identifying statements here.
Showing posts with label art history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art history. Show all posts
Wednesday, 30 March 2011
Thursday, 28 May 2009
Public vs Private in art history
Many thanks to Vellum for carrying the blog while I was otherwise occupied. However, now the questions of a PhD program in the fall and worthwhile employment have been resolved (no to the former, emphatic yes to the latter), and I hope to be a tad more reliable now.
No promises.
Today's musings pertain to the boundaries of history/art history. My new job is at a small museum where I am responsible for taking visitors through the exhibit and discussing the artists, their techniques, etc. The environment is very much to my taste, being more concerned with the conditions which produce art and less with the composition, color, and "quality" of the art. Thus, I have spent the last week cramming facts and biographical details (as this museum is not medieval, and, in fact, is just about as far from medieval as you can get). Which has led to an interesting problem which I haven't ever considered.
As a medievalist, I deal with long dead issues. Most scandals and questionable dealings are dealt with from a purely academic perspective. Everyone involved has been dead for centuries, and it's generally quite difficult to find descendants to be offended on behalf of their predecessors.
Not so with history from the turn of the last century. One of my only instructions regarding the nature of my tours of the museum was to not mention a very well-known love affair between a certain prominent artist and one of his models. My response was to stare blankly at the board member, who didn't seem to think this was an odd request. "She was a local girl, and her family still lives here. Some of them come in from time to time," he explained. Well, yes, but that's no excuse to whitewash the artist's entire history. For said model was the artist's model in just about every painting he did for 20 years. And he lived with her for nearly 50 years. And it's quite likely that his relationship with her was the influence for most of his work, and the major decisions he made regarding his work.
And I'm not allowed to talk about it?
Fortunately, I'm in such a position that no one is really able to tell me what to say or not to say. So I will certainly be discussing this artist's life and the people in it. Simply because the truth might be uncomfortable for a few people doesn't give me the right to gloss over it or whitewash it for something prettier. However, I readily admit to understanding where the concern is coming from.
Said prominent artist lived long enough that there are still plenty of people about who knew him, and the woman was alive practically into my lifetime. These are still people remembered as individuals, rather than as historical figures. His children have all passed on, but there's still plenty of family about. They, understandably, want to protect and defend their predecessor's (or grandfather's) memory. Not to mention his cashbox. But I have to tell you:
If hearing stories about Grandpa and wandering down memory lane involves going to a museum, you've lost the right to decide what's public knowledge and what's private.
To be honest, this particular battle was fought and lost some time ago. A book was published on this relationship two decades ago, and the many accusations of slander have long since passed. This is established history now, and to not discuss it at a museum partially devoted to the artist.... well, it's just silly, isn't it?
But it does raise the question of where the line between public history and private falls. Despite his fame, this artist never wanted to be a public figure, and his model certainly didn't - not for having an affair with a married man. It's tempting to then say that he's allowed his privacy, even after his death. However, his art is significant, and an important part of art history; so too are his experiences which resulted in this art. That's ultimately what art history comes down to - and even history. Without understanding the experiences, the art is practically meaningless.
The artist's son was quite open about his life and his father, so much so that when he insisted that something not be mentioned in a book on his father, it wasn't mentioned. Again, I understand his desire to keep what had been family secrets private, but all it served to do was cover up the truth. Were it not for a particularly nosy and observant historian, none of this would have ever seen the light of day. Which is probably where a handful of people prefer it had been left. But if we leave everything buried that ought to be buried, what will we put in our history books?
-Vaulting
No promises.
Today's musings pertain to the boundaries of history/art history. My new job is at a small museum where I am responsible for taking visitors through the exhibit and discussing the artists, their techniques, etc. The environment is very much to my taste, being more concerned with the conditions which produce art and less with the composition, color, and "quality" of the art. Thus, I have spent the last week cramming facts and biographical details (as this museum is not medieval, and, in fact, is just about as far from medieval as you can get). Which has led to an interesting problem which I haven't ever considered.
As a medievalist, I deal with long dead issues. Most scandals and questionable dealings are dealt with from a purely academic perspective. Everyone involved has been dead for centuries, and it's generally quite difficult to find descendants to be offended on behalf of their predecessors.
Not so with history from the turn of the last century. One of my only instructions regarding the nature of my tours of the museum was to not mention a very well-known love affair between a certain prominent artist and one of his models. My response was to stare blankly at the board member, who didn't seem to think this was an odd request. "She was a local girl, and her family still lives here. Some of them come in from time to time," he explained. Well, yes, but that's no excuse to whitewash the artist's entire history. For said model was the artist's model in just about every painting he did for 20 years. And he lived with her for nearly 50 years. And it's quite likely that his relationship with her was the influence for most of his work, and the major decisions he made regarding his work.
And I'm not allowed to talk about it?
Fortunately, I'm in such a position that no one is really able to tell me what to say or not to say. So I will certainly be discussing this artist's life and the people in it. Simply because the truth might be uncomfortable for a few people doesn't give me the right to gloss over it or whitewash it for something prettier. However, I readily admit to understanding where the concern is coming from.
Said prominent artist lived long enough that there are still plenty of people about who knew him, and the woman was alive practically into my lifetime. These are still people remembered as individuals, rather than as historical figures. His children have all passed on, but there's still plenty of family about. They, understandably, want to protect and defend their predecessor's (or grandfather's) memory. Not to mention his cashbox. But I have to tell you:
If hearing stories about Grandpa and wandering down memory lane involves going to a museum, you've lost the right to decide what's public knowledge and what's private.
To be honest, this particular battle was fought and lost some time ago. A book was published on this relationship two decades ago, and the many accusations of slander have long since passed. This is established history now, and to not discuss it at a museum partially devoted to the artist.... well, it's just silly, isn't it?
But it does raise the question of where the line between public history and private falls. Despite his fame, this artist never wanted to be a public figure, and his model certainly didn't - not for having an affair with a married man. It's tempting to then say that he's allowed his privacy, even after his death. However, his art is significant, and an important part of art history; so too are his experiences which resulted in this art. That's ultimately what art history comes down to - and even history. Without understanding the experiences, the art is practically meaningless.
The artist's son was quite open about his life and his father, so much so that when he insisted that something not be mentioned in a book on his father, it wasn't mentioned. Again, I understand his desire to keep what had been family secrets private, but all it served to do was cover up the truth. Were it not for a particularly nosy and observant historian, none of this would have ever seen the light of day. Which is probably where a handful of people prefer it had been left. But if we leave everything buried that ought to be buried, what will we put in our history books?
-Vaulting
Monday, 13 April 2009
Medieval Art History at Kalamazoo, or the lack thereof
The most wonderful time of the year is fast approaching. That's right, just over three weeks until Kalamazoo, the most epic of medieval gatherings, and the best excuse we've found to abuse the open bar and make fools of ourselves in front of our colleagues.
Vellum and I will be gleefully attending this year, as Kalamazoo virgins. Do be kind. After the fun that was Leeds last year, how could we say no? (especially as a hop across the pond to Leeds this year isn't happening) Vellum will actually be co-presenting a paper, so direct your serious conversation toward him; I'm just there for the open bar, and possibly to stalk Terry Jones.
So, in the spirit of getting the festivities underway, let's talk shop. At present, there are 614 sessions, spread across 12 time slots, with god knows how many papers being presented therein. Woefully few of these deal with medieval art or architecture. This, naturally, distresses me. And so you get another rant.
The problem with Medieval Art History is that it's the awkward cousin of both Art History and Medieval Studies. He's nice enough, and kind of cute, but he stares too much, your parents make you dance with him at the 7th grade dance (which totally ruins your life for at least a week), he laughs too loudly, and he tries to get you to join his dorky RPG games, in front of ALL your friends.
Or at least, he was - until you ran into him at your sister's wedding 15 years later, and he's hot, funny, and a consultant for historical movies - when he's not cooking at the trendy Korean place downtown. But you've lost your chance to have a cool friend, because while he's perfectly friendly, and laughs at your jokes, you can tell he remembers all those times when you ignored him on the bus and made fun of him in front of the entire gym class. And so you sit with your champagne, wishing you'd figured out how cool he was going to be before he got there, so you could hang out with someone more fun than your unemployed roommate.
That's Medieval Art History, and it's going to be ultra-cool in a few years. But for now, everyone's sitting around and ignoring it, smiling politely when it pops up with new evidence for Anglo-Saxon material culture, and the earliest written vernacular Italian, and rolling their eyes after it's bustled off to follow up on its new ideas. "It's very interesting," everyone says, nodding politely, before going back to analyzing the use of weaponry in Beowolf.
And this would be fine, except Art History is exactly the same, except more patronising. You know, Medieval Art History just hasn't figured it out yet, and it's so inferior to Renaissance or Baroque, and why does it keep popping up at our parties? It's so badly put together, and the colors are so wrong, and they don't even know who painted it - how can we be supportive? It's not really even Art History at all, it's almost like.... History. Ugh.
So Medieval Art History keeps bouncing back and forth, offering up a new interpretation of the Annunciation iconography, or maybe something on the use of color in Gospel illuminations? Or... wait, Art History, you'll love this: a new name for the artist who carved the brusque sculptures on the façade of St-Trophime! Right, because you love names, right? The artists? Right? Um, well, Medieval History, you'll really be interested in what the portal sculptures at Chartres say about the 12th century understanding of the Creation! Theology?
*sigh*
So listen up: in ten years, Medieval Art History is going to be the coolest guy at the party, so you'd better get your ass in gear and befriend him now, before he's too cool to need your friendship. Ok?
All right, seriously: it certainly feels like this sometimes. I'm still quite surprised at how few art history sessions there are at Kalamazoo. The ICMA is sponsoring 5 sessions, and that's the bulk of what's happening. There are a few more on architecture, and a few assorted papers dealing with space and identity - but that's really about it. Part of the problem is that noted art historians are working outside their area, doing that interdisciplinary thing that's so popular these days. But no one seems to be picking up the slack in the art and architecture area.
Fortunately, this problem is one that's easily solved. Vellum and I are planning on proposing a couple of sessions for next year, at least one of which will be art historical in nature. But I think Kalamazoo is indicative of a greater problem in the field of Medieval Studies. I think the field of Art History is right to be wary of Medieval Art, because there are such profound differences between Art History Since 1500 and Art History Before 1500. I have trouble classifying myself as an Art Historian because I have no interest in a particular artist's talents or weaknesses, his/her use of color, the quality of his/her technique, or the general aesthetic value of the work. It's hard to care about any of that when you work with 12th century artworks, where the color is all but gone, the artist is entirely unknown - and probably didn't consider himself an artist, but rather, a stonemason - and you're lucky to simply know what technique was used, never mind how well it was used. As far as scholarship goes, I have little in common with a Renaissance Art Historian, never mind an Impressionist one. So I don't blame the rest of the field of Art History for being wary of medievalists. I do, however, blame the rest of the Medieval Studies field for steering clear. I haven't figured out why this is the case yet, but I'll be sure to let you know if I do.
There, now the rant is really over. Expect another Kalamazoo post. I promise a survey of the entertaining typos one might find in this year's programme.
-Vaulting
(photo courtesy of Sexy People and Johnny's willingness to put his childhood photos online for all to mock. We salute you, sir.)
Vellum and I will be gleefully attending this year, as Kalamazoo virgins. Do be kind. After the fun that was Leeds last year, how could we say no? (especially as a hop across the pond to Leeds this year isn't happening) Vellum will actually be co-presenting a paper, so direct your serious conversation toward him; I'm just there for the open bar, and possibly to stalk Terry Jones.
So, in the spirit of getting the festivities underway, let's talk shop. At present, there are 614 sessions, spread across 12 time slots, with god knows how many papers being presented therein. Woefully few of these deal with medieval art or architecture. This, naturally, distresses me. And so you get another rant.
The problem with Medieval Art History is that it's the awkward cousin of both Art History and Medieval Studies. He's nice enough, and kind of cute, but he stares too much, your parents make you dance with him at the 7th grade dance (which totally ruins your life for at least a week), he laughs too loudly, and he tries to get you to join his dorky RPG games, in front of ALL your friends.Or at least, he was - until you ran into him at your sister's wedding 15 years later, and he's hot, funny, and a consultant for historical movies - when he's not cooking at the trendy Korean place downtown. But you've lost your chance to have a cool friend, because while he's perfectly friendly, and laughs at your jokes, you can tell he remembers all those times when you ignored him on the bus and made fun of him in front of the entire gym class. And so you sit with your champagne, wishing you'd figured out how cool he was going to be before he got there, so you could hang out with someone more fun than your unemployed roommate.
That's Medieval Art History, and it's going to be ultra-cool in a few years. But for now, everyone's sitting around and ignoring it, smiling politely when it pops up with new evidence for Anglo-Saxon material culture, and the earliest written vernacular Italian, and rolling their eyes after it's bustled off to follow up on its new ideas. "It's very interesting," everyone says, nodding politely, before going back to analyzing the use of weaponry in Beowolf.
And this would be fine, except Art History is exactly the same, except more patronising. You know, Medieval Art History just hasn't figured it out yet, and it's so inferior to Renaissance or Baroque, and why does it keep popping up at our parties? It's so badly put together, and the colors are so wrong, and they don't even know who painted it - how can we be supportive? It's not really even Art History at all, it's almost like.... History. Ugh.
So Medieval Art History keeps bouncing back and forth, offering up a new interpretation of the Annunciation iconography, or maybe something on the use of color in Gospel illuminations? Or... wait, Art History, you'll love this: a new name for the artist who carved the brusque sculptures on the façade of St-Trophime! Right, because you love names, right? The artists? Right? Um, well, Medieval History, you'll really be interested in what the portal sculptures at Chartres say about the 12th century understanding of the Creation! Theology?
*sigh*
So listen up: in ten years, Medieval Art History is going to be the coolest guy at the party, so you'd better get your ass in gear and befriend him now, before he's too cool to need your friendship. Ok?
All right, seriously: it certainly feels like this sometimes. I'm still quite surprised at how few art history sessions there are at Kalamazoo. The ICMA is sponsoring 5 sessions, and that's the bulk of what's happening. There are a few more on architecture, and a few assorted papers dealing with space and identity - but that's really about it. Part of the problem is that noted art historians are working outside their area, doing that interdisciplinary thing that's so popular these days. But no one seems to be picking up the slack in the art and architecture area.
Fortunately, this problem is one that's easily solved. Vellum and I are planning on proposing a couple of sessions for next year, at least one of which will be art historical in nature. But I think Kalamazoo is indicative of a greater problem in the field of Medieval Studies. I think the field of Art History is right to be wary of Medieval Art, because there are such profound differences between Art History Since 1500 and Art History Before 1500. I have trouble classifying myself as an Art Historian because I have no interest in a particular artist's talents or weaknesses, his/her use of color, the quality of his/her technique, or the general aesthetic value of the work. It's hard to care about any of that when you work with 12th century artworks, where the color is all but gone, the artist is entirely unknown - and probably didn't consider himself an artist, but rather, a stonemason - and you're lucky to simply know what technique was used, never mind how well it was used. As far as scholarship goes, I have little in common with a Renaissance Art Historian, never mind an Impressionist one. So I don't blame the rest of the field of Art History for being wary of medievalists. I do, however, blame the rest of the Medieval Studies field for steering clear. I haven't figured out why this is the case yet, but I'll be sure to let you know if I do.
There, now the rant is really over. Expect another Kalamazoo post. I promise a survey of the entertaining typos one might find in this year's programme.
-Vaulting
(photo courtesy of Sexy People and Johnny's willingness to put his childhood photos online for all to mock. We salute you, sir.)
Saturday, 14 March 2009
Media's reporting of scholarship
I was prepared to do another post on my television watching habits, but then I thought, you know, that's probably a bit excessive. So regardless of how offensive I found it that The History Channel *coughcough* could not find a single woman to appear in its hour-long show on the Second Punic War, you will not get a feminist rant from me tonight. Instead, you will get a rant on another form of media.
-----
Oh, BBC News.
Many love you. I know I certainly appreciate your perspective and wide-angle news. Then again, I (currently) live in the US, where every news outlet covers the same 5 talking points ad nauseum. You provide a bit of colour and perspective to my news.
But I have a teensy bone to pick. Minutiae, really. Just details. But... could I ask if you might consider doing a little research before you report? Or perhaps finding someone who understands the topic to write about said topic?
The reason I ask is that recently, a number of your articles online have proved... how should I put this... erroneous? Misleading? Misguided? Poorly judged? I expect that you, of all news sources, know this already, but perhaps I should ask--
You do know that simply because someone says it is so, that doesn't make it so?
Right. Let me give you an example. Today, you posted an intriguing article entitled, "Caravaggio was early 'photographer'." I was very curious to see where this would lead. I am, after all, an art historian in dire need of employment. The subtitle to this lovely article was, "Caravaggio used an early form of photography to create his masterpieces - 200 years before the invention of the camera, a researcher has claimed."
Intriguing! I cried, hurrying to the body of the article.
And what did I find there? An unsubstantiated claim made by a "teacher"- whose only credentials, your article suggests, is that she's a "teacher" at a "prestigious" art school in Florence- and, as we all know, if you're from Florence, you know your art.
You, BBC News, provide evidence that this theory is brilliant and ground-breaking via the following:
She believes [Caravaggio] could have used a photoluminescent powder from crushed fireflies, which was used at the time to create special effects in theatre productions. "There is lots of proof, notably the fact that Caravaggio never made preliminary sketches. So it is plausible that he used these 'projections' to paint," she said.
...
Please note, one cannot demonstrate 'proof' of something by a lack of something else.
Before I let the snark run away with me any further, let me point out that Dr. Lapucci does in fact seem to be a reputable scholar who has made a career out of studying Caravaggio and thus, I would imagine, knows what she is talking about. This is not, in fact, the first time that a scholar has been made out to be an idiot in a BBC News article - nor the first time in the past two weeks. Despite how she is represented in this article, I would wager that there is, in fact, real evidence supporting her theory - evidence which I would love to hear about. But I certainly won't hear about it from this article.
BBC News clearly thinks its readers are morons. And perhaps we are. But may I venture that we have seen enough films about romantic artists throughout history - and that we all played with pinhole cameras in 3rd grade science - to recognize the term 'camera obscura'? You would suggest no, opting instead to describe Caravaggio as "illuminat[ing] his models through a hole in the ceiling."
A skylight, perhaps?
All right, I've finished: I'll be serious now. Upon the first reading of this article, I laughed very hard. How absurd- proposing that Caravaggio used crushed fireflies to fix the image on his canvas, solely on the evidence that he used left-handed models and that there aren't any surviving sketches? Good lord! What pathetic drivel! Upon reassessment, of course, I realized that the absurdity was not in the theory, but in the reporting. Dr. Lapucci probably released a great deal of information about this theory, but whoever wrote this dreadful article could not pick out enough information to provide a coherent understanding of the theory. S/he had to conclude with a vigorous insistence that "such techniques did not detract from the artist's work." Well, thank you for the clarification - but perhaps we could focus on how innovative this technique was?
I understand the need for short, pithy articles for the website - but the many misleading articles I have read on the BBC News site recently are not just short on information, but painting an entirely insufficient picture of the news they are supposedly reporting. Many scholars have "ground-breaking" theories, and push scholarship ahead almost daily. Of course I believe that more of these theories should be widely publicized, but certainly not at the expense of an accurate representation. No matter how fascinating I find this, Dr. Lapucci's theory is no more important than the theories being put forward by other scholars in journals and books all the time. God only knows how BBC News got hold of this scholarship, but in light of how it - and many other morsels of research - has been reported, I would suggest that we all keep our work close to the vest, and out of their prying fingers.
Spitefully yours,
Vaulting
-----
Oh, BBC News.
Many love you. I know I certainly appreciate your perspective and wide-angle news. Then again, I (currently) live in the US, where every news outlet covers the same 5 talking points ad nauseum. You provide a bit of colour and perspective to my news.
But I have a teensy bone to pick. Minutiae, really. Just details. But... could I ask if you might consider doing a little research before you report? Or perhaps finding someone who understands the topic to write about said topic?
The reason I ask is that recently, a number of your articles online have proved... how should I put this... erroneous? Misleading? Misguided? Poorly judged? I expect that you, of all news sources, know this already, but perhaps I should ask--
You do know that simply because someone says it is so, that doesn't make it so?
Right. Let me give you an example. Today, you posted an intriguing article entitled, "Caravaggio was early 'photographer'." I was very curious to see where this would lead. I am, after all, an art historian in dire need of employment. The subtitle to this lovely article was, "Caravaggio used an early form of photography to create his masterpieces - 200 years before the invention of the camera, a researcher has claimed."
Intriguing! I cried, hurrying to the body of the article.
And what did I find there? An unsubstantiated claim made by a "teacher"- whose only credentials, your article suggests, is that she's a "teacher" at a "prestigious" art school in Florence- and, as we all know, if you're from Florence, you know your art.
You, BBC News, provide evidence that this theory is brilliant and ground-breaking via the following:
She believes [Caravaggio] could have used a photoluminescent powder from crushed fireflies, which was used at the time to create special effects in theatre productions. "There is lots of proof, notably the fact that Caravaggio never made preliminary sketches. So it is plausible that he used these 'projections' to paint," she said.
...
Please note, one cannot demonstrate 'proof' of something by a lack of something else.
Before I let the snark run away with me any further, let me point out that Dr. Lapucci does in fact seem to be a reputable scholar who has made a career out of studying Caravaggio and thus, I would imagine, knows what she is talking about. This is not, in fact, the first time that a scholar has been made out to be an idiot in a BBC News article - nor the first time in the past two weeks. Despite how she is represented in this article, I would wager that there is, in fact, real evidence supporting her theory - evidence which I would love to hear about. But I certainly won't hear about it from this article.
BBC News clearly thinks its readers are morons. And perhaps we are. But may I venture that we have seen enough films about romantic artists throughout history - and that we all played with pinhole cameras in 3rd grade science - to recognize the term 'camera obscura'? You would suggest no, opting instead to describe Caravaggio as "illuminat[ing] his models through a hole in the ceiling."
A skylight, perhaps?
All right, I've finished: I'll be serious now. Upon the first reading of this article, I laughed very hard. How absurd- proposing that Caravaggio used crushed fireflies to fix the image on his canvas, solely on the evidence that he used left-handed models and that there aren't any surviving sketches? Good lord! What pathetic drivel! Upon reassessment, of course, I realized that the absurdity was not in the theory, but in the reporting. Dr. Lapucci probably released a great deal of information about this theory, but whoever wrote this dreadful article could not pick out enough information to provide a coherent understanding of the theory. S/he had to conclude with a vigorous insistence that "such techniques did not detract from the artist's work." Well, thank you for the clarification - but perhaps we could focus on how innovative this technique was?
I understand the need for short, pithy articles for the website - but the many misleading articles I have read on the BBC News site recently are not just short on information, but painting an entirely insufficient picture of the news they are supposedly reporting. Many scholars have "ground-breaking" theories, and push scholarship ahead almost daily. Of course I believe that more of these theories should be widely publicized, but certainly not at the expense of an accurate representation. No matter how fascinating I find this, Dr. Lapucci's theory is no more important than the theories being put forward by other scholars in journals and books all the time. God only knows how BBC News got hold of this scholarship, but in light of how it - and many other morsels of research - has been reported, I would suggest that we all keep our work close to the vest, and out of their prying fingers.
Spitefully yours,
Vaulting
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