I just heard the news that Johnny Winter died last night. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to beat the odds and live to be at least as old as William Burroughs. But he was 70, which is probably longer than I’ll last, so that isn’t too bad.
I learned so much about playing the blues guitar from him. Not the solos—he was too good, too creative, and too fast for me. But his great blues rhythm guitar work was just so clear, and beautiful, and profound. Listening to him as like taking a master class.
We celebrated his last birthday here, Johnny Winter’s Mississippi Blues. Here he is doing “Sound the Bell” and making it all look so easy and sound so impossible:
I’ll miss knowing he is still out there doing what he was clearly born to do.
On this day in 1797, the great French painter Paul Delaroche was born. He is known as a “historical” painter, because he painted scenes from history. As a result, there are some complaints that sometimes his history wasn’t quite right. Or maybe it is more likely that some pedantic graduate student had his way with Delaroche’s Wikipedia page. It is said he cared more about creating dramatic paintings than in portraying history accurately. And I say, “Thank God for that!”
He was an amazing talent. Just check out this painting Napoleon Abdiquant a Fontainebleau (Napoleon Abdicating in Fontainebleau). Was that the way it was? I don’t know. I don’t care. It is the way it ought to have been!
One painting the Wikipedia page has special criticism for is, The Execution of Lady Jane Grey. It says, “The Execution of Lady Jane Grey is represented as taking place in a dungeon, which is badly inaccurate.” Oh my God! It turns out she was actually executed in the open air. We should just burn the painting! After all, look at how poorly it is rendered:
Delaroche is best know for painting the Hemicycle, which is an almost 90 foot long mural at the Ecole des Beaux Arts. It was supposed to be in the style of Raphael, and it is; and as a result, I think it is some of his weakest work. It is still, however, insanely great. This is the middle of three sections with Phidias, Ictinus, and Apelles sitting up there like the kings of architecture, sculpture, and painting:
It is also said that he was so in love with his wife that he never got over her death, and confined himself to religious painting after that. I think that is largely true. Regardless, we shouldn’t remember Delaroche as he was but as he ought to have been. That’s how he would have wanted it.
Happy birthday Paul Delaroche!