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Robert Sember on the topic of “Collectivity,” presented as part of What Now? 2014: Collaboration & Collectivity at the Vera List Center Saturday, April 5, 2014. 

For the members of Ultra-red, the question of political listening attains urgency because of our specific commitments to class struggle. Both within the cultural action of Ultra-red and in our political contexts outside/alongside Ultra-red, we witness continually how the failures to determine a deliberative process of collective listening results in all manner of obstacles within the very confines of movement building, not to mention the procedures of listening required in contested encounters with state power and its class masters. And yet we know from our own experience as well as through scholarship, that movements sustain themselves or not in large part due to their capacity to develop listening protocols, either intentionally authored or adopted from existing social and political forms, such as the church, the family, the classroom, or friendship. Oftentimes organizers, activists, and base communities resist intentional protocols of listening on the grounds that such procedures trigger a feeling of in-authenticity or unnaturalness. And yet in that resistance we can hear the conflict between competing protocols and even the friction between underlying ethical systems. As the sociologist Francesca Polletta has pointed out, movements organized upon the armature of friendship can find intentional processes inauthentic precisely because those processes demand a reorganization of relations and even a shift in ethical foundation from one based on affinity to one that becomes available to the stranger or outsider. Throughout these often painful episodes of transition and re-examination, the existing protocols of listening come under scrutiny and risk themselves seeming strange and unnatural. Thus, it could be said that listening as a political practice is always an encounter with the stranger in our midst.  At this point, I can signal a third dimension of collectivity that may be of interest here, which is the question of leadership.  The move to collective listening can be an opportunity to diminish or dilute the tendency for a collective to be organized around a single personality or particular authority.  Related to this issue is the difference in the roles individuals can play within collectives.  A particularly important distinction to be made is between the individual as organizer and the individual or collective as protagonist of struggle.

In Ultra-red’s consideration of leadership, we often turn to the legacy of Ella Baker, a woefully underappreciated civil rights organizer.  Ella Baker helped form economic cooperatives in Harlem in the early 20th century, and greatly increased the national membership of the NAACP while actively critiquing the organization’s hierarchical and male-dominated structure.  She is probably best remembered for her work with the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC).  Under Miss Baker’s guidance SNCC members practiced a form of organizing grounded in procedures of listening that involved disciplined attentiveness and active questioning. Working closely with poor, rural communities in segregated Southern states, SNCC activists saw their role as using an active practice of listening to assist the constituency find its own power and solutions to problems. Even when the work of SNCC became consolidated around voter-registration campaigns, those campaigns always assumed the primary aim of developing and reproducing leadership within and among the community itself. SNCC activists were not the protagonists of the movement.  They were its organizers. In testimony after testimony, when asked about the role of Ella Baker in the movement, SNCC alumni talk of how she taught people how to listen. That pedagogy of listening was the basis of a political literacy that then equipped SNCC field organizers to work with people and help them realize their own power to endure the brutal retaliation of white supremacist state and mass violence and eventually transform a racially defined class structure.*

Robert Sember is a member of the international sound-art collective, Ultra-red (for more information click here). For twenty years, Ultra-red has investigated the contribution experimental sound art can make to political organizing. Robert brings to his work with Ultra-red training in cultural studies and medical anthropology. His ethnographic research in the U.S. and South Africa has focused on governmental and non-governmental service sectors with an emphasis on HIV/AIDS prevention, testing and treatment concerns. He currently teaches at The New School’s Eugene Lang College. He was a 2009-2010 Vera List Center for Art and Politics Fellow.

*This is only an excerpt. The full presentation will be made available shortly here.

"What does it mean when a place moves? Can we imagine, while sitting in this room, that the room is now in a different country? No, we are in Paris, and Paris is in France. Or we are in New York, or we are in Reykjavik. Everywhere, we are bound to the laws of time and space. How can we break out of this truth?"

Text Citation: An excerpt from Katrín Sigurdardóttir’s ‘500 Words’ for ARTFORUM, as told to Julian Elias Bronner. For the full article, click here.
Image Credit: Katrín Sigurdardóttir. Foundation (detail), 2013. Wood and concrete, dimensions variable. Installation view.

"What does it mean when a place moves? Can we imagine, while sitting in this room, that the room is now in a different country? No, we are in Paris, and Paris is in France. Or we are in New York, or we are in Reykjavik. Everywhere, we are bound to the laws of time and space. How can we break out of this truth?"

Text Citation: An excerpt from Katrín Sigurdardóttir’s ‘500 Words’ for ARTFORUM, as told to Julian Elias Bronner. For the full article, click here.

Image Credit: Katrín Sigurdardóttir. Foundation (detail), 2013. Wood and concrete, dimensions variable. Installation view.

Jargot, Ola Vasiljeva’s current exhibition at Art in General (click here for more info), playfully investigates the pitfalls of language and its inability to fully describe and define. Jargot nods to both ‘jargon’ and ‘argot’, terms that favor understanding only to one particular group, difficult for those not included to comprehend. In and of itself ‘jargot’ is a hybrid, a mash-up, given only approximate meaning through the context of Vasiljeva’s exhibition. 
In conversation with curator Zane Onckule, Vasiljeva spoke of her relationship with language as part of growing up in Latvia under Soviet occupation. She discussed ‘Aesopian language,’ a type of doublespeak, as tactic of subversion, wherein communication was used to convey an innocent meaning to an outsider, but contained a hidden interpretation to those in the know.
“As a term, ‘Aesopian language’ was first used by Russian satirist M.E. Saltykov-Shchedrin in his Letters to Auntie (1881-1882), in order to designate a ‘figurative language of slavery’, an ‘ability to speak between the lines […] at a time when literature was in a state of bondage’*. As for the practice associated with this concept, it can be traced back to the Antiquity and, even when labeled differently or used purely intuitively, it has since represented one of the most efficient forms of resistance of the intellectuals against censorship – particularly under totalitarian regimes. Lenin’s hope, declared on several occasions, was that the triumph of communism should end this ‘accursed’ language; however, historical experience proved unerringly the opposite. Not only did the installation of the communist regime lead to a proliferation and an unprecedented diversification of Aesopian language in Russia, but this practice was to spread swiftly to the other East-Central European countries entering the Soviet Union’s sphere of influence after 1945. This has been frequently emphasized by the various theoretical and applied studies dedicated to Aesopian language, mainly during the two decades following the collapse of communism in Europe.”
  
Text Citation: Terian, Andrei. “The Rhetoric of Subversion: Strategies of ‘Aesopian Language’ in Romanian Literary Criticism under Late Communism,” SLOVO, Vol. 24, No. 2 (Autumn 2012), 75-95. School of Slavonic and East European Studies, University College London, 2012. For the complete text, click here.
* Lioudmila Savinitch, ‘Pragmatic Goals and Communicative Strategies in Journalistic Discourse under Censorship’, in Power without Domination: Dialogism and the Empowering Property of Communication, ed. by Eric Grillo (Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 2005), p. 108. 

Image Credit: Ola Vasiljeva. Jargot, 2014. Installation view at Art in General. Image courtesy the artist and Art in General. Photography: Steven Probert

Jargot, Ola Vasiljeva’s current exhibition at Art in General (click here for more info), playfully investigates the pitfalls of language and its inability to fully describe and define. Jargot nods to both ‘jargon’ and ‘argot’, terms that favor understanding only to one particular group, difficult for those not included to comprehend. In and of itself ‘jargot’ is a hybrid, a mash-up, given only approximate meaning through the context of Vasiljeva’s exhibition.

In conversation with curator Zane Onckule, Vasiljeva spoke of her relationship with language as part of growing up in Latvia under Soviet occupation. She discussed ‘Aesopian language,’ a type of doublespeak, as tactic of subversion, wherein communication was used to convey an innocent meaning to an outsider, but contained a hidden interpretation to those in the know.

“As a term, ‘Aesopian language’ was first used by Russian satirist M.E. Saltykov-Shchedrin in his Letters to Auntie (1881-1882), in order to designate a ‘figurative language of slavery’, an ‘ability to speak between the lines […] at a time when literature was in a state of bondage’*. As for the practice associated with this concept, it can be traced back to the Antiquity and, even when labeled differently or used purely intuitively, it has since represented one of the most efficient forms of resistance of the intellectuals against censorship – particularly under totalitarian regimes. Lenin’s hope, declared on several occasions, was that the triumph of communism should end this ‘accursed’ language; however, historical experience proved unerringly the opposite. Not only did the installation of the communist regime lead to a proliferation and an unprecedented diversification of Aesopian language in Russia, but this practice was to spread swiftly to the other East-Central European countries entering the Soviet Union’s sphere of influence after 1945. This has been frequently emphasized by the various theoretical and applied studies dedicated to Aesopian language, mainly during the two decades following the collapse of communism in Europe.”

  

Text Citation: Terian, Andrei. “The Rhetoric of Subversion: Strategies of ‘Aesopian Language’ in Romanian Literary Criticism under Late Communism,” SLOVO, Vol. 24, No. 2 (Autumn 2012), 75-95. School of Slavonic and East European Studies, University College London, 2012. For the complete text, click here.

* Lioudmila Savinitch, ‘Pragmatic Goals and Communicative Strategies in Journalistic Discourse under Censorship’, in Power without Domination: Dialogism and the Empowering Property of Communication, ed. by Eric Grillo (Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 2005), p. 108. 

Image Credit: Ola Vasiljeva. Jargot, 2014. Installation view at Art in General. Image courtesy the artist and Art in General. Photography: Steven Probert

“Ten minutes after death a man’s a speck of black dust. Let’s not quibble over individuals with memoriams. Forget them. Burn them all, burn everything. Fire is bright and fire is clean.” 

Image Credit: Top: Installation view of Cimetière d’Ixelles, 2013 at Art in General. Image courtesy Art in General. Photography by Steven Probert. Middle & Bottom: Jochen Lempert. Fire, 2007. 7 black and white silver gelatin photographs, 9.5 x 7 inches, Edition 5/5. Courtesy the artist and ProjecteSD, Barcelona.

Quote Citation: Bradbury, Ray. Fahrenheit 451. New York: Ballantine Books, 1953. Print.

Fish Scales (Véritable Hollandais), (2012)

The invention of photographic process very closely aligns with the invention of mechanized forms of textile production, most notably the Jacquard loom in the first half of the nineteenth century. This loom was operated by punch cards, a binary system of zeros and ones that was an important precursor to later computer technologies. Henry Fox Talbot, working in the 1840’s thought of his experiments with positive and negative photography in much the same way, as a series of binary relationships between the presence and absence of light.   

The fabrics used to make these photograms are mechanically produced textiles from the Netherlands that mimic the handmade batiks of Indonesia and are almost entirely exported to West Africa. The fabric materializes from and is circulated within a colonial economy. Mechanical apparatuses do not simply produce, but they are, to quote Geoffery Batchen writing about the advent of computer technology, “the material expression of a certain history, the mechanical and electronic manifestation of a conceptual armature that insistently reproduces itself…”* Positive/negative, handmade/mechanical, colonizer/colonized are all binary oppositions that are constitutive of the making of this series, not just in content, but its form. 

The cloth is used as a negative placed directly on the photographic paper producing a one-to-one relationship in scale and pattern. The colors however, are inverted, as they are the negative of the source. A second exposure is made by folding the fabric over the photographic paper in another direction, yielding moiré-like patterns that repeat imperfectly throughout the series as they are folded over imperfectly by hand. Mechanically produced and theoretically infinitely reproducible patters are made unique through a hand intervening in another supposedly infinitely reproducible medium: photography.

*(Batchen, Geoffery. Each Wild Idea. MIT Press, 2000: p.174).

 

Image Captions: Top: Lisa Oppenheim. Fish Scales, Véritable Hollandais (version 7, 6, 8 & 4), 2012. Installation view at Vapours and Veils. Unique photograms, 50 x 34 inches each. Middle: Lisa Oppenheim. Fish Scales, Véritable Hollandais (version 6), 2012. Unique photograms, 50 x 34 inches each. Bottom: Lisa Oppenheim. Fish Scales, Véritable Hollandais (version 8), 2012. Unique photograms, 50 x 34 inches each.

Text Citation: Lisa Oppenheim. For more information, click here.

+1 is a new artist-run space in the heart of Chinatown.  Housed in a storefront space under the Manhattan Bridge, +1 present a series of exhibitions by The Still House Group’s permanent roster of eight artists: Alex Perweiler, Isaac Brest, Zachary Susskind, Louis Eisner, Jack Greer, Brendan Lynch, Dylan Lynch, and Nick Darmstaedter. Each exhibition is a solo presentation with a plus one – the addition of another artwork, object, or artist to the space. The latest show (in the shot above) features Dylan Lynch + Miles Huston.
+1 is located on the west side of Forsyth between Division and East Broadway. Exhibitions can be seen 24/7 through the window or by appointment. For more information, please visit http://www.artingeneral.org/

+1 is a new artist-run space in the heart of Chinatown.  Housed in a storefront space under the Manhattan Bridge, +1 present a series of exhibitions by The Still House Group’s permanent roster of eight artists: Alex Perweiler, Isaac Brest, Zachary SusskindLouis EisnerJack GreerBrendan LynchDylan Lynch, and Nick Darmstaedter. Each exhibition is a solo presentation with a plus one – the addition of another artwork, object, or artist to the space. The latest show (in the shot above) features Dylan Lynch + Miles Huston.

+1 is located on the west side of Forsyth between Division and East Broadway. Exhibitions can be seen 24/7 through the window or by appointment. For more information, please visit http://www.artingeneral.org/

Theresa Himmer for Vector: The Flora of Ural

A selection of Photos recorded at Hotel Ural, Perm, Russia 2012

Top: Hibiscus (Hibiscus Rosa-Sinensis), native to East Asia

Middle: From left, among others: Weeping Fig (Ficus Benjamina), native to the tropics of South Asia and Northern Australia; Peace Lily (Spathiphyllum), native to the tropical regions of the Americas and Southeastern Asia; Frangipani (Plumeria), native to Central America, Mexico, the Caribbean, and South America; Snake Plant (Sansevieria Trifasciata), native to tropical West Africa; Kaffir Lily (Clivia), native to Southern Africa; Rubber Tree (Ficus Elastica), native to Northeast India, Nepal, Bhutan, Burma, China, Malaysia, and Indonesia; African Milk Tree (Euphorbia Trigona), native to Western Africa; Parlour Palm (Chamaedorea Elegans), native to Southern Mexico and Madagascar

Bottom: Dumb Cane (Dieffenbachia), native to the tropical Americas

 

For the full piece in Vector, visit http://www.vector.bz/issue_03/himmer_theresa.htm

For information on Himmer’s 2012 Art in General Musee Miniscule commission “All State” visit http://artingeneral.org/exhibitions/526

In anticipation of Art in General and the Museum for African Art’s upcoming public program What Now?: Spaces of Contradiction (more information here), we’ve excerpted an interview between NY-based art critic and curator Joshua Decter and Chelsea Haines of Guernica Magazine, regarding his new collection of essays Art is a Problem.
Guernica: How did you arrive at the book’s title?
Joshua Decter: It took some time. But upon arrival, it seemed the most effective means of embodying my longstanding ambivalence about art, criticality, and other matters in a humorous, plaintive, and hopefully serious manner. I think many people have, and continue to, harbor doubts about whether art is a useful vehicle to engage with, or engender change within, broader political, economic, social, and ideological conditions, even as we struggle to reconcile this doubt with commitment and optimism. Art engenders important problems, yet it is also a problem. So why not be a bit provocative, and deploy a title that might startle some readers.
Guernica: You started your career as a critic and curator around the same time as a massive rise in interest in the relationship between art and politics. How do you see this shift being indicated in your writing over time?
Joshua Decter: I grew up resolutely middle class in Manhattan and was taken to museums and galleries by my parents, so art was always a part of my life. After college, I participated in the curatorial/critical studies component of the Whitney Independent Study Program (ISP) from 1984 to 1985, where I met artists such as Andrea Fraser, Mark Dion, and Glenn Ligon. There I engaged in a year-long one-on-one theory tutorial with Benjamin Buchloh—experiences that drove home the point that one cannot think about art outside of its embedded relationship within larger systems. And the ’80s were actually a rather contradictory period in New York, [there was] a significant expansion of venues and markets for contemporary art, as well as the emergence of various forms of art and cultural activism and politically-engaged practices. There are some relevant parallels to today’s situation. When my art criticism first started being published in the mid-’80s, part of me wanted to tear down the idols of art history, while another part maintained faith in—the illusion?—that art could be oppositional in some way.
These illusions began to fade a bit while working in my first curatorial job at an institution, PS1, in the late ’80s. A few years later, in the early ’90s, I became increasingly uncomfortable with how the work of the aforementioned generation of Institutional Critique artists—my friends and peers—seemed to have become at home within the institutions under critique. The bogeyman became the sugar daddy. These contradictions bothered me. Still do to a certain extent. So in a way, my problem with art is just how smoothly critique has been assimilated within museums and other cultural institutions. And now, how institutions have evolved into contradictory platforms. I’m conflicted, since I still want art to put pressure on conditions of economic, social, and political injustice, yet unsure about what results from that pressure. And this is not merely a theoretical dilemma—it’s also an existential question about one’s work and position in relationship to the field.
 
For a link to the full interview, please click here
More information on Decter’s book, Art is a Problem, can be found on Artbook, Amazon, and Guernica Magazine.

In anticipation of Art in General and the Museum for African Art’s upcoming public program What Now?: Spaces of Contradiction (more information here), we’ve excerpted an interview between NY-based art critic and curator Joshua Decter and Chelsea Haines of Guernica Magazine, regarding his new collection of essays Art is a Problem.

Guernica: How did you arrive at the book’s title?

Joshua Decter: It took some time. But upon arrival, it seemed the most effective means of embodying my longstanding ambivalence about art, criticality, and other matters in a humorous, plaintive, and hopefully serious manner. I think many people have, and continue to, harbor doubts about whether art is a useful vehicle to engage with, or engender change within, broader political, economic, social, and ideological conditions, even as we struggle to reconcile this doubt with commitment and optimism. Art engenders important problems, yet it is also a problem. So why not be a bit provocative, and deploy a title that might startle some readers.

Guernica: You started your career as a critic and curator around the same time as a massive rise in interest in the relationship between art and politics. How do you see this shift being indicated in your writing over time?

Joshua Decter: I grew up resolutely middle class in Manhattan and was taken to museums and galleries by my parents, so art was always a part of my life. After college, I participated in the curatorial/critical studies component of the Whitney Independent Study Program (ISP) from 1984 to 1985, where I met artists such as Andrea Fraser, Mark Dion, and Glenn Ligon. There I engaged in a year-long one-on-one theory tutorial with Benjamin Buchloh—experiences that drove home the point that one cannot think about art outside of its embedded relationship within larger systems. And the ’80s were actually a rather contradictory period in New York, [there was] a significant expansion of venues and markets for contemporary art, as well as the emergence of various forms of art and cultural activism and politically-engaged practices. There are some relevant parallels to today’s situation. When my art criticism first started being published in the mid-’80s, part of me wanted to tear down the idols of art history, while another part maintained faith in—the illusion?—that art could be oppositional in some way.

These illusions began to fade a bit while working in my first curatorial job at an institution, PS1, in the late ’80s. A few years later, in the early ’90s, I became increasingly uncomfortable with how the work of the aforementioned generation of Institutional Critique artists—my friends and peers—seemed to have become at home within the institutions under critique. The bogeyman became the sugar daddy. These contradictions bothered me. Still do to a certain extent. So in a way, my problem with art is just how smoothly critique has been assimilated within museums and other cultural institutions. And now, how institutions have evolved into contradictory platforms. I’m conflicted, since I still want art to put pressure on conditions of economic, social, and political injustice, yet unsure about what results from that pressure. And this is not merely a theoretical dilemma—it’s also an existential question about one’s work and position in relationship to the field.

 

For a link to the full interview, please click here

More information on Decter’s book, Art is a Problem, can be found on Artbook, Amazon, and Guernica Magazine.

As part of Art in General’s ongoing New Commission with the Brooklyn-based Still House Group, Brendan Lynch’s new exhibition at +1 relies on social media as a means of sharing images and identities. Somewhat cloaked, Lynch functions as a medium through which the viral becomes physical, creating a life-size cast of a woman behind an influential tumblr. Fronted by images from her site, all selected by Lynch, this exhibition exposes a lone figure using technology to reach an invisible audience.

Pictured above, Lynch’s concurrent solo exhibition at Vladimir Restoin Roitfeld’s gallery takes on similar themes of identity, this time using supermodel Kate Upton as the central figure. Lynch asked Upton a series of shoot-from-the-hip questions (the press release for the show): favorite color, TV show, cats or dogs? Her answers form the basis of the exhibition, providing an alternate view of a person who lives in infinite images. JR

For more information on +1, The Still House Group’s 2013 Art in General New Commission, click here

For information on Lynch’s exhibition at Vladimir Restoin Roitfeld, click here

Philip Seymour Hoffman’s famous scene from Almost Famous. New York Magazine mentioned this scene as one of Hoffman’s best and I couldn’t agree more. CF

+1 is a new artist-run space in the heart of Chinatown.  Housed in a storefront space under the Manhattan Bridge, +1 present a series of exhibitions by The Still House Group’s permanent roster of eight artists: Alex Perweiler, Isaac Brest, Zachary SusskindLouis EisnerJack GreerBrendan LynchDylan Lynch, and Nick Darmstaedter. Each exhibition is a solo presentation with a plus one – the addition of another artwork, object, or artist to the space. This month’s show (in the shot above) features Brendan Lynch + Naomi Larbi.

+1 is located on the west side of Forsyth between Division and East Broadway. Exhibitions can be seen 24/7 through the window or by appointment. For more information, please visit www.artingeneral.org

"I used to go there quite a bit. Oh, years ago now. But I stopped. I used to like that place. Spent quite a bit of time in there. That was before I went away. Just before. I think that … place had a lot to do with it. They were all … a good bit older than me. But they always used to listen. I thought … they understood what I said. I mean I used to talk to them. I talked too much. That was my mistake. The same in the factory. Standing there, or in the breaks, I used to … talk about things. And these men, they used to listen, whenever I … had anything to say. It was all right. The trouble was, I used to have kind of hallucinations. They weren’t hallucinations, they … I used to get the feeling I could see things … very clearly … everything … was so clear … everything used … everything used to get very quiet … everything got very quiet … all this … quiet … and … this clear sight … it was … but maybe I was wrong."

Images taken from Ola Vasiljeva’s New Commission, Jargot, currently on view at Art in General.

Text caption: Pinter, Harold: The Caretaker. London: Dramatists Play Service, Inc.,1961. p. 41

Installation is in full swing for Jargot, our New Commission with Latvian artist Ola Vasiljeva. Opening Friday January 24th- here are some images of her previous installations to get you excited!

Barbara Kruger at Kunsthaus Bregenz.
Image caption: Barbara Kruger, Untitled (Are we having fun yet?), 1987 Collage. 38,5 x 30,5 cm Courtesy Sprüth Magers Berlin London

Barbara Kruger at Kunsthaus Bregenz.

Image caption: Barbara Kruger, Untitled (Are we having fun yet?), 1987
Collage. 38,5 x 30,5 cm Courtesy Sprüth Magers Berlin London

(Source: contemporaryartdaily, via hiddenarchive)

So excited for The Morgan Library’s exhibition, The Little Prince: A New York Story, which opens on January 24, 2014. CF

Since its publication seventy years ago, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince has captivated millions of readers throughout the world. It may come as a surprise that this French tale of an interstellar traveler who comes to Earth in search of friendship and understanding was written and first published in New York City, during the two years the author spent here at the height of the Second World War.

As he prepared to leave the city to rejoin the war effort as a reconnaissance pilot, Saint-Exupéry appeared at his friend Sylvia Hamilton’s door wearing his military uniform. “I’d like to give you something splendid,” he said, “but this is all I have.” He tossed a rumpled paper bag onto her entryway table. Inside were the manuscript and drawings for The Little Prince, which the Morgan acquired from her in 1968.

Focusing on the story’s American origins, this exhibition features twenty-five of the manuscript pages—replete with crossed-out words, cigarette burns, and coffee stains—and all forty-three of the earliest versions of drawings for the book. Also on view are rare printed editions from the Morgan’s collection as well as personal letters, photographs, and artifacts on loan from the Saint-Exupéry estate, private collections, and museums and libraries in France and the United States.

The Little Prince: A New York Story is the first exhibition to explore in depth the creative decisions Saint-Exupéry made as he crafted his beloved story that reminds us that what matters most can only be seen with the heart.

Text from The Morgan Library & Museum website.

Image captions: Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1900–1944), drawings for The Little Prince, The Morgan Library & Museum, New York, © Estate of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. Photography by Graham S. Haber, 2013.