William Shakespeare was a commoner who wrote witty plays attended by Queen Elizabeth. Sir Francis Bacon was a noble who served as her Attorney General. Right?
LONDON — Outside The Mosaic Rooms, a small gallery and cultural center in Kensington, a red and white-striped air sock hangs improbably from the otherwise uniform stone façade.
The theory that statesman and scientist Francis Bacon was the ghostwriter behind Shakespeare, and embedded the Bard’s plays with ciphers, had a major influence on modern cryptography.
This week the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC, announced that its Digital Image Collection is now under a Creative Commons Attribution–ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
Thunder and rain hurtle over the violent, staged sorrow of this new spectacle of Macbeth, installed heath and all in the gaping drill hall of the Park Avenue Armory.
BERKELEY, California — Ratio 3 gallery’s new show of work by Lutz Bacher is a must see. The large, skylight-lit, raw gallery space is perfect for Bacher’s captivating installation of audio, visual, and sculptural work. Upon entering the gallery one immediately focuses on the small black spheres scattered about the floor. After a hesitant test, the black orbs turn out to be squishy balls. Along the walls are framed black and white astronomy prints cut out from a book. As one weaves their way through the balls (or in my case, kicked my way until I was asked to avoid touching the work) the visual connection between the galactic formations and the floor installation was obvious.
Even though we all think we know what Shakespeare looks like from our middle school Hamlet textbooks, only one portrait was (probably) painted in the writer’s lifetime. In this singular work now on view at New York City’s Morgan Library, Shakespeare is a total 17th century hottie with glowing skin, a stylish goatee and overwhelmingly large collar. Sexy. Unveiled in 2009, the quality and age of the portrait means it is now believed to be the original in a long line of Shakespeare portraits, the ancestors of our textbook copies.