Explore 1,000,000 Digitized Artworks from Across the UK: Paintings, Sculptures, Street Art & More

No art enthu­si­ast’s vis­it to the Unit­ed King­dom would be com­plete with­out days at the British Muse­um, the Tate, the V&A and the Nation­al Gallery. The fact that all those respect­ed insti­tu­tions are in Lon­don con­sti­tutes a plau­si­ble excuse nev­er to stray out­side the cap­i­tal. But that cap­i­tal is sur­round­ed, lest we for­get, by not just a whole coun­try, but a whole Unit­ed King­dom’s worth of coun­tries. Each region of Eng­land has its own muse­ums and gal­leries worth vis­it­ing, and so do Scot­land, Wales, and North­ern Ire­land. But why just vis­it muse­ums and gal­leries? Uni­ver­si­ties, libraries, town halls, hos­pi­tals, homes: these places and more also put art on dis­play for any­one who cares to vis­it them, which you can now do not just phys­i­cal­ly, but also online at Art UK.

A free-to-all por­tal that “con­nects every­one with the UK’s pub­lic art col­lec­tions,” Art UK has tak­en it as its mis­sion to “dig­i­tal­ly unite one mil­lion art­works from 3,500 insti­tu­tions.” Some of the most pop­u­lar of the rough­ly 70,000 artists whose work it makes avail­able to view online include Fran­cis Bacon, Agnes Mar­tin, Sal­vador Dalí, Andy Warhol, Tracey Emin, Paul Gau­guin, Con­stan­tin Brân­cuși, Damien Hirst, and Yay­oi Kusama.

As even that short list reflects, what’s on dig­i­tal dis­play at Art UK is by no means lim­it­ed to British works, nor are there any restric­tions on medi­um or sen­si­bil­i­ty. Paint­ings, draw­ings, pho­tographs, sculp­tures, ceram­ics, dig­i­tal art: if it’s held at a UK insti­tu­tion, it’s avail­able for your view­ing plea­sure — or your edu­ca­tion, your research, what­ev­er your pur­pose may be.

A decade into Art UK’s evo­lu­tion, one of the most fas­ci­nat­ing sec­tions of its dig­i­tal hold­ings may hard­ly con­tain any work by artists whose names you’ve heard. That’s because it’s a col­lec­tion of the UK’s murals and street art, whose dig­i­ti­za­tion began in ear­ly 2024. “The project fol­lowed the suc­cess­ful, award-win­ning sculp­ture dig­i­ti­za­tion and engage­ment project, which firm­ly estab­lished Art UK as the home for show­cas­ing the UK’s pub­lic realm art­works,” writes pho­tog­ra­ph­er Tra­cy Jenk­ins. “We have now record­ed over 6,600 murals, bring­ing the total num­ber of pub­lic art­works on the web­site to 21,400.” Dat­ing from 1000 AD to the present, these “include wall paint­ings in his­toric church­es, post-war ceram­ic and con­crete works, and con­tem­po­rary paint­ed murals and mosaics.” Col­lec­tive­ly, they remind us that, in our haste to tour the most august tem­ples of art, we ignore at our per­il the muse­ums with­out walls — or rather, the muse­ums that are walls. Enter Art UK here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The British Muse­um Puts 1.9 Mil­lion Works of Art Online

Down­load 60,000 Works of Art from the Nation­al Gallery, Includ­ing Mas­ter­pieces by Van Gogh, Gau­guin, Rem­brandt & More

Art Trips: Vis­it the Art of Cities Around the World, from Los Ange­les & Lon­don, to Venice and New York

Great Art Cities: Vis­it the Fas­ci­nat­ing, Less­er-Known Muse­ums of Lon­don & Paris

Google Puts Online 10,000 Works of Street Art from Across the Globe

The British Muse­um is Full of Loot­ed Arti­facts

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Every Known Work by Georgia O’Keeffe Has Been Digitized and Made Available Online

Upon hear­ing the names of Arthur Dove or Mars­den Hart­ley, the sat­u­rat­ed col­ors and organ­i­cal­ly askew lines of those painters’ land­scapes may appear before your mind’s eye. But unless you have a spe­cial inter­est in Amer­i­can mod­ernists of the ear­ly twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, they prob­a­bly don’t. The name Geor­gia O’Ke­effe, by con­trast, can hard­ly fail to bring a few images even to the mind of the strict­ly casu­al art appre­ci­a­tor: New Mex­i­can mesas, ani­mal skulls, and above all flow­ers in extreme close-up. Apart from the artis­tic skill and dis­tinc­tive vision with which she cre­at­ed it, O’Ke­ef­fe’s work per­sists in the wider cul­ture because of how well it hap­pens to repro­duce in a vari­ety of con­texts, includ­ing post­cards, mugs, and even appar­el, such as that sold at her epony­mous muse­um in San­ta Fe.

Keep­ing such prod­ucts around is, of course, no sub­sti­tute for see­ing the real thing; in their phys­i­cal real­i­ty, O’Ke­ef­fe’s paint­ings have a way of rebuff­ing all the inter­pre­ta­tions with which they’ve been freight­ed for more than a cen­tu­ry now. If you can’t make it out to New Mex­i­co, the Geor­gia O’Ke­effe Muse­um has been work­ing to make every sin­gle one of her pieces (includ­ing sculp­tures and pho­tographs) avail­able for view­ing online at a just-launched por­tal called Access O’Ke­effe.

The muse­um describes it as a “user-friend­ly, search­able web­site with high-res­o­lu­tion images, visu­al descrip­tions, exhi­bi­tion his­to­ries, archival mate­ri­als, and research data asso­ci­at­ed with the artist’s two-vol­ume cat­a­logue raison­né.” The site’s vis­i­tors “can browse by col­or, shape, or medi­um, explore the con­text of works cre­at­ed before and after a spe­cif­ic paint­ing, trace his­toric exhi­bi­tions, cre­ate lists of favorites, and down­load images.”

Access O’Ke­effe makes it easy to find the artist’s most famous paint­ings, but also works that may sur­prise view­ers who only know her mesas, skulls, and flow­ers. Take, for exam­ple, such noc­tur­nal­ly themed can­vas­es as her ear­ly Starlight Night, from 1917, or her late Unti­tled (City Night), from the nine­teen-sev­en­ties. O’Ke­ef­fe’s Amer­i­ca, we must remem­ber, isn’t lim­it­ed to the desert: though she did spend most of her near­ly cen­tu­ry-long life’s sec­ond half in New Mex­i­co, it also took her from Wis­con­sin to Vir­ginia to Texas to New York, with stints in South Car­oli­na and Hawaii. Giv­en the impor­tance of under­stand­ing any artist’s con­texts both geo­graph­i­cal and social, Access O’Ke­effe also pro­vides an archive of arti­facts and exhi­bi­tions relat­ed to the peo­ple and orga­ni­za­tions asso­ci­at­ed with her — Arthur Dove and Mars­den Hart­ley includ­ed.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Geor­gia O’Keeffe: A Life in Art, a Short Doc­u­men­tary on the Painter Nar­rat­ed by Gene Hack­man

How Geor­gia O’Keeffe Became Geor­gia O’Keeffe: An Ani­mat­ed Video Tells the Sto­ry

An Intro­duc­tion to the Paint­ing That Changed Geor­gia O’Keeffe’s Career: Ram’s Head, White Hol­ly­hock-Hills

The Real Geor­gia O’Keeffe: The Artist Reveals Her­self in Vin­tage Doc­u­men­tary Clips

Recipes from the Kitchen of Geor­gia O’Keeffe

Alfred Stieglitz: The Elo­quent Eye, a Reveal­ing Look at “The Father of Mod­ern Pho­tog­ra­phy”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The Met Releases High-Definition 3D Scans of 140 Famous Art Objects: Sarcophagi, Van Gogh Paintings, Marble Sculptures & More

We can go through most of our lives hold­ing out hope of one day see­ing in real­i­ty such works as van Gogh’s Sun­flow­ersMon­et’s Haystacks, a clay tablet con­tain­ing actu­al cuneiform writ­ing with our own eyes, or the ancient Egypt­ian Tem­ple of Den­dur. We can actu­al­ly come face to face — or rather, face to sur­face — with all of them, tem­ple includ­ed, at New York’s Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art, which con­tains all those and more arti­facts of human civ­i­liza­tion than any of us could hope to exam­ine close­ly in a life­time. But even if we did, we might only feel tempt­ed to look at them more close­ly still, even to touch them. That may be an improb­a­ble hope, but we can at least get clos­er than ever now thanks to the Met’s new archive of high-def­i­n­i­tion 3D scans.

“View­ers can zoom in, rotate, and exam­ine each mod­el, bring­ing unprece­dent­ed access to sig­nif­i­cant works of art,” says the Met’s offi­cial announce­ment. “The 3D mod­els can also be explored in view­ers’ own spaces through aug­ment­ed real­i­ty (AR) on most smart­phone and VR head­sets, as a resource for research, explo­ration, and curios­i­ty.”

High­lights include “a mar­ble sar­coph­a­gus with lions felling ante­lope (3rd cen­tu­ry); a stat­ue of Horus as a fal­con pro­tect­ing King Nectanebo II (360–343 BCE); Kano Sansetsu’s Old Plum (1646); and a house mod­el by Nayarit artist(s) (200 BCE–300 CE).” Or per­haps you’d pre­fer an inti­mate view of an eigh­teenth-cen­tu­ry tile depic­tion of Mec­ca, a nine­teenth-cen­tu­ry mar­ble sculp­ture of Perseus with the head of Medusa, or a suit of armor belong­ing to King Hen­ry II of France?

Brows­ing this archive of more than 100 dig­i­tized his­tor­i­cal objects, you’ll also notice pieces from Japan like sev­en­teenth-cen­tu­ry screens by the artists Kano Sanset­su and Suzu­ki Kiit­su. These must have been pri­or­i­ties for the Met’s insti­tu­tion­al part­ner in this project, the Japan­ese tele­vi­sion net­work NHK. It all came about “as part of the pub­lic broadcaster’s ini­tia­tive to pro­duce ultra-high def­i­n­i­tion 3D com­put­er graph­ics of nation­al trea­sures and oth­er impor­tant art­works,” with “fur­ther edu­ca­tion­al pro­gram­ming and poten­tial con­tent using these cut­ting-edge, best-in-class mod­els” in the off­ing. For now, though, the archive offers us more than enough to behold from any pos­si­ble angle. To do so, just click the “View in 3D” but­ton below the image on the page of your arti­fact or art­work of choice. It may not be the same as hold­ing the object in your hands, but it’s as close as you’re going to get — unless, of course, you find your­self inspired to pur­sue the dream of becom­ing a cura­tor at the Met.

via Colos­sal

Relat­ed con­tent:

Take a New Vir­tu­al Real­i­ty Tour of the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art

See Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Ear­ring in 3D in a New 108-Gigapix­el Scan

3D Scans of 7,500 Famous Sculp­tures, Stat­ues & Art­works: Down­load & 3D Print Rodin’s Thinker, Michelangelo’s David & More

Explore Metic­u­lous 3D Mod­els of Endan­gered His­tor­i­cal Sites in Google’s “Open Her­itage” Project

Open­Ver­te­brate Presents a Mas­sive Data­base of 13,000 3D Scans of Ver­te­brate Spec­i­mens

The Earth Archive Will 3D-Scan the Entire World & Cre­ate an “Open-Source” Record of Our Plan­et

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The Fascinating History of Tarot Card Decks: From the Renaissance to the Modern Day

Whether or not we believe that the cards of the tarot have super­nat­ur­al pow­ers, we all think of them pri­mar­i­ly as tools for div­ina­tion. It might seem as if they’ve played that cul­tur­al role since time immemo­r­i­al, but in fact, that par­tic­u­lar use only goes back to the eigh­teenth cen­tu­ry. They were, at first, play­ing cards, used for a game known as taroc­chi in Renais­sance Italy. That was the orig­i­nal pur­pose of the old­est tarot cards in pos­ses­sion of the Vic­to­ria and Albert Muse­um, which you can see unboxed by cura­tor Ruth Hib­bard in the video above. Through­out its fif­teen min­utes, Hib­bard and two col­leagues also “unbox” five oth­er decks pro­duced across the half-mil­len­ni­um of tarot his­to­ry.

These include the ear­ly eigh­teenth-cen­tu­ry Minchi­ate Deck, whose name refers to a slight­ly more com­plex Flo­ren­tine card game that evolved along­side tarot. The word itself pos­si­bly orig­i­nates from the term sminchiare, “to play your high­est card” (though in Sicil­ian dialect today, it has a rather dif­fer­ent mean­ing).

Lat­er, cir­ca 1807, comes Le Petit Ora­cle des Dames, “the petite ora­cle of women,” the ear­li­est deck in the video express­ly pro­duced for car­toman­cy, or pre­dic­tion of the future through cards — albeit only as a form of light enter­tain­ment for gath­er­ings of ladies. A decade or two lat­er, out came the lux­u­ri­ous Taroc­co Soprafi­no, which bears lav­ish illus­tra­tions made with cop­per-plate engrav­ing and col­ored sten­cil­ing.

The V&A also has an ear­ly twen­ti­eth-cen­tu­ry tarot deck with rich, live­ly art cre­at­ed by the occultist Pamela Col­man-Smith, whose work has pre­vi­ous­ly been fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture. “What makes these cards so great is that they’re just so rich with mythol­o­gy and sym­bol­o­gy and mul­ti­lay­ered mean­ing,” says cura­tor Beck­ie Billing­ham, “allow­ing you to read the cards in many dif­fer­ent ways.” That’s even true of the much more the­mat­i­cal­ly delib­er­ate deck that fol­lows, an exam­ple from the ear­ly two-thou­sands that brings into our dig­i­tal cen­tu­ry the mis­sion of tarot art to “reveal clan­des­tine knowl­edge and the hid­den pow­ers at work in the world.” Com­put­ers, drones, Aldous Hux­ley, world wars, the World Wide Web: per­haps these cards let us see our future, but they cer­tain­ly give us a clear view on our present.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Meet the For­got­ten Female Artist Behind the World’s Most Pop­u­lar Tarot Deck (1909)

Behold the Sola-Bus­ca Tarot Deck, the Ear­li­est Com­plete Set of Tarot Cards (1490)

Carl Jung on the Pow­er of Tarot Cards: They Pro­vide Door­ways to the Uncon­scious & Per­haps a Way to Pre­dict the Future

Sal­vador Dalí’s Tarot Cards Get Re-Issued: The Occult Meets Sur­re­al­ism in a Clas­sic Tarot Card Deck

Ale­jan­dro Jodor­owsky Explains How Tarot Cards Can Give You Cre­ative Inspi­ra­tion

Divine Decks: A Visu­al His­to­ry of Tarot: The First Com­pre­hen­sive Sur­vey of Tarot Gets Pub­lished by Taschen

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

A Tour of the New David Bowie Archive Featuring 90,000 Artifacts from His Life & Career

With the tenth anniver­sary of David Bowie’s death com­ing up ear­ly next year, more than a few fans will have their minds on a pil­grim­age to mark the occa­sion. Per­haps with that very time frame in mind, the V&A East Store­house in Lon­don has just opened the David Bowie Cen­ter. Run by the Vic­to­ria and Albert Muse­um, to which Bowie left an archive of about 90,000 of his pos­ses­sions, this new insti­tu­tion will show a few hun­dred of those arti­facts at a time, and even make a range of them avail­able on request to vis­i­tors. As for what exact­ly is in there, Jes­si­ca the Muse­um Guide makes a brief sur­vey of the Bowieana cur­rent­ly on dis­play in the video above.

Some of the fea­tured objects, like the suits Bowie wore in his videos for “Life on Mars?” and “Let’s Dance” or the crys­tal ball he held aloft as Jareth the Gob­lin King in Labyrinth, may well be rec­og­niz­able even to casu­al Bowie appre­ci­a­tors. Longer-term fans will sure­ly rec­og­nize the out­landish but ele­gant Kan­sai Yamamo­to-designed cos­tumes that visu­al­ly defined per­son­ae like Zig­gy Star­dust and Aladdin Sane, the Alexan­der McQueen-designed Union Jack frock from the cov­er of Earth­ling, and per­haps even the met­al angel wings Bowie donned onstage dur­ing the high­ly ambi­tious but much-derid­ed Glass Spi­der Tour of the late nine­teen-eight­ies.

Going deep­er, there’s also the Sty­lo­phone, a kind of toy elec­tron­ic instru­ment from the late six­ties, that Bowie used on “Space Odd­i­ty” (and had to repur­chase on eBay); the much more pro­fes­sion­al-grade EMS suit­case syn­the­siz­er giv­en to him by Bri­an Eno, which he used on the “Berlin tril­o­gy” albums they made togeth­er; the per­son­al deck of Oblique Strate­gies, co-cre­at­ed by Eno, that shows signs of inten­sive use in Bowie’s own cre­ative process; his cor­re­spon­dence with Let’s Dance pro­duc­er Nile Rodgers (a cura­tor of the Bowie Cen­ter’s cur­rent exhi­bi­tion), about their sec­ond album Black Tie White Noise; and mate­ri­als from Omikron: The Nomad Soul, the com­put­er game to which he con­tributed music as well as a dig­i­tized per­for­mance in the late nineties.

The col­lec­tion that Bowie donat­ed to the V&A already came care­ful­ly orga­nized and cat­a­loged, which shows a metic­u­lous­ness uncom­mon to rock stars, and a delib­er­ate­ness about not just cul­ti­vat­ing his pub­lic image at any giv­en cul­tur­al moment, but also active­ly curat­ing the mate­ri­als of his own his­tor­i­cal nar­ra­tive. It seems Bowie always had one eye on the past: his own, of course, but also more dis­tant eras, rich with dis­used aes­thet­ics to revive and make his own. The oth­er eye he kept on the future, espe­cial­ly as the inter­net was grow­ing into a cul­tur­al force. The David Bowie Cen­ter has his per­son­al notes on the sub­ject, which include a ref­er­ence to BowieNet, the inter­net ser­vice provider he found­ed around the turn of the mil­len­ni­um. BowieNet is now long gone, of course, but Bowie’s lega­cy — espe­cial­ly now that it’s been insti­tu­tion­al­ly enshrined and made so acces­si­ble to the pub­lic — will out­last us all.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stream David Bowie’s Com­plete Discog­ra­phy in a 19-Hour Playlist: From His Very First Record­ings to His Last

The Art Col­lec­tion of David Bowie: An Intro­duc­tion

Behold The Paint­ings of David Bowie: Neo-Expres­sion­ist Self Por­traits, Illus­tra­tions of Iggy Pop, and Much More

Meet the Mem­phis Group, the Bob Dylan-Inspired Design­ers of David Bowie’s Favorite Fur­ni­ture

David Bowie Is: The First Major Exhib­it Ded­i­cat­ed to Bowie Spans 50 Years & Fea­tures 300 Great Objects

The Musi­cal Career of David Bowie in One Minute … and One Con­tin­u­ous Take

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Explore and Download 14,000+ Woodcuts from Antwerp’s Plantin-Moretus Museum Online Archive

We appre­ci­ate illu­mi­nat­ed man­u­scripts and his­tor­i­cal books here on Open Cul­ture, adhere though we do to a much more restrained aes­thet­ic style in our own texts. But that’s not to deny the temp­ta­tion to start this para­graph with one of those over­sized ini­tial let­ters that grew ever larg­er and more elab­o­rate over cen­turies past. The online archive of Antwer­p’s Plan­tin-More­tus Muse­um offers plen­ty of wood­cut Ws to choose from, includ­ing designs sober and bare­ly leg­i­ble, as well as Ws that incor­po­rate a sprout­ing plant, some kind of saint, and even a scene of what looks like impend­ing mur­der.

If you’re not in the mar­ket for fan­cy let­ters, you can also browse the Plan­tin-More­tus wood­cut archive through the cat­e­gories of plants, ani­mals, and sci­ences. Some of these illus­tra­tions are tech­ni­cal, and oth­ers more fan­ci­ful; in cer­tain cas­es, the cen­turies have prob­a­bly ren­dered them less real­is­tic-look­ing than once they were.

Not all the more than 14,000 wood­cuts now in the archive would seem to fit neat­ly in one of those cat­e­gories, but if you take a look at par­tic­u­lar entries, you’ll find that the muse­um has also labeled them with more spe­cif­ic tags, like “clas­si­cal antiq­ui­ty,” “map/landscape,” or “aure­ole” (the bright medieval-look­ing halo that marks a fig­ure as holy).

All these wood­cuts, in any case, have been made free to down­load (just click the cloud icon in the upper-right of the win­dow that opens after you click on the image itself) and use as you please. Back in the six­teenth cen­tu­ry, Christophe Plan­tin and Jan More­tus, for whom the Plan­tin-More­tus Muse­um was named, were well-placed to col­lect such things. The Plan­tin-More­tus Muse­um’s web­site describes them as “a rev­o­lu­tion­ary duo.

They were the first print­ers on an indus­tri­al scale — the Steve Jobs and Mark Zucker­berg of their day.” And if these decon­tex­tu­al­ized arti­facts of the print rev­o­lu­tion strike us as a bit strange to us today, just imag­ine how our sur­viv­ing inter­net memes will look four cen­turies hence. Enter the wood­block col­lec­tion here.

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed con­tent:

Down­load 215,000 Japan­ese Wood­block Prints by Mas­ters Span­ning the Tradition’s 350-Year His­to­ry

800 Illu­mi­nat­ed Medieval Man­u­scripts Are Now Online: Browse & Down­load Them Cour­tesy of the British Library and Bib­lio­thèque Nationale de France

Stephen Fry Takes Us Inside the Sto­ry of Johannes Guten­berg & the First Print­ing Press

Behold the Beau­ti­ful Pages from a Medieval Monk’s Sketch­book: A Win­dow Into How Illu­mi­nat­ed Man­u­scripts Were Made (1494)

Clas­sic Films and Film­mak­ers, Ren­dered in Wood­cut By a Los Ange­les Artist-Cinephile

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Download 1,600+ Publications from the Metropolitan Museum of Art: Books, Guides, Magazines & More

Many of us in these past few gen­er­a­tions first heard of the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art while read­ing E. L. Konigs­burg’s nov­el From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweil­er. More than a few of us also fan­ta­sized about run­ning away to live in that vast cul­tur­al insti­tu­tion like the book’s young pro­tag­o­nists Clau­dia and Jamie Kin­caid. Yet among oth­er, more prac­ti­cal con­cerns, we might have won­dered where we were going to secure enough read­ing mate­r­i­al to get us through those long after-hours nights. Konigs­burg had Clau­dia and Jamie vis­it the for­mer Don­nell Library Cen­ter, but what about in the Met itself?

What we prob­a­bly did­n’t real­ize in our youth was that, in addi­tion to being a muse­um, the Met is a pub­lish­er. Now, at the Met­Pub­li­ca­tions dig­i­tal archive, we can read a great vari­ety of the books, guides, and peri­od­i­cals it’s put out for more than a century–from a 1911 cat­a­log of the muse­um’s col­lec­tion of pot­tery, porce­lain, and faïence (which refers to pot­tery of the tin-glazed vari­ety) to — as of this writ­ing — the lat­est issue of the Met’s Bul­letin, on Mex­i­can print­mak­ers includ­ing Diego Rivera and José Clemente Oroz­co. They and the more than 1,600 pub­li­ca­tions that lie between them are free for you to explore, some read­able online, and some down­load­able in PDF form.

You might find issues of the Bul­letin on every­thing from Frank Lloyd Wright to inter­war pho­tog­ra­phy to Kore­an art, as well as cat­a­logs for exhi­bi­tions like Anglo­Ma­nia: Tra­di­tion and Trans­gres­sion in British Fash­ion, The Art of Illu­mi­na­tion: The Lim­bourg Broth­ers and the Belles Heures of Jean de France, Duc de Berry (whose cen­tral work of cal­en­dri­cal art was pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture), Van Gogh in Arles, The Milk­maid by Johannes Ver­meer, and The Poet­ry of Nature: Edo Paint­ings from the Fish­bein-Ben­der Col­lec­tion. Met­Pub­li­ca­tions offers plen­ty of inter­est­ing read­ing, but if you find you sud­den­ly have to do some seri­ous art-his­tor­i­cal research, you’ll also find that it’s a far more con­ve­nient resource than Clau­dia and Jamie had.

Enter the Met­Pub­li­ca­tions dig­i­tal archive here, and, once there, par­tic­u­lar­ly explore the “Free to Down­load” sec­tion.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art Puts 490,000 High-Res Images Online & Makes Them Free to Use

Take a New Vir­tu­al Real­i­ty Tour of the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art

An Unbe­liev­ably Detailed, Hand-Drawn Map Lets You Explore the Rich Col­lec­tions of the Met Muse­um

A World of Art: The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Frank Lloyd Wright Thought About Making the Guggenheim Museum Pink

Image via The Frank Lloyd Wright Foun­da­tion Archives

Seen today, the Solomon R. Guggen­heim Muse­um, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, seems to occu­py sev­er­al time peri­ods at once, look­ing both mod­ern and some­how ancient. The lat­ter qual­i­ty sure­ly has to do with its bright white col­or, which we asso­ciate (espe­cial­ly in such an insti­tu­tion­al con­text) with Greek and Roman stat­ues. But just like those stat­ues, the Guggen­heim was­n’t actu­al­ly white to begin with. “Few­er and few­er New York­ers may recall that the muse­um, in a then-grim­i­er city, used to be beige,” writes the New York Times’ Michael Kim­mel­man. “Robert Moses thought it looked like ‘jaun­diced skin.’ ” Hence, pre­sum­ably, the deci­sion dur­ing a 1992 expan­sion to paint over the earth­en hue of Wright’s choice.

Not that beige was the only con­tender in the design phase. Look at the archival draw­ings, Kim­mel­man writes, and you’ll find “a reminder that Wright had con­tem­plat­ed some pret­ty far-out col­ors — Chero­kee red, orange, pink.”

The very thought of that last “leads down a rab­bit hole of alter­na­tive New York his­to­ry,” and if you’re curi­ous to see what a pink Guggen­heim might have looked like from the street, David Romero at Hooked on the Past has cre­at­ed a few dig­i­tal­ly mod­i­fied pho­tos. The result hard­ly comes off as being in taste quite as poor as one might expect; in fact, it could have fit quite well into the Mem­phis-embrac­ing nine­teen-eight­ies, and even the post­mod­ern nineties. The image above, show­ing the Guggen­heim imag­ined in pink, comes from The Frank Lloyd Wright Foun­da­tion Archives.

But as it is, “closed off to the city around it, the building’s anti­sep­tic, spank­ing-white facade, today is in keep­ing with the neigh­bor­hood.” That itself is in keep­ing with Wright’s ideas for trans­form­ing the Amer­i­can city, which he kept on putting forth until the end of his life. Attempt­ing to solve “the prob­lem of the inner city,” he con­ceived “fan­tas­ti­cal megas­truc­tures for places like down­town Pitts­burgh, Bagh­dad, and Madi­son, Wis­con­sin,” all of them “city-based but anti-urban projects, divorced from the streets.” Even work­ing in the Unit­ed States’ dens­est metrop­o­lis, Wright expressed a long­ing for the splen­did iso­la­tion of the Amer­i­can coun­try­side, where a man — at least as the lore has it — can paint his house any col­or he pleas­es.

via Messy Nessy/Hooked on the Past

Relat­ed con­tent:

Frank Lloyd Wright Designs an Urban Utopia: See His Hand-Drawn Sketch­es of Broad­acre City (1932)

The Unre­al­ized Projects of Frank Lloyd Wright Get Brought to Life with 3D Dig­i­tal Recon­struc­tions

When Frank Lloyd Wright Designed a Plan to Turn Ellis Island Into a Futur­is­tic Jules Verne-Esque City (1959)

Build Wood­en Mod­els of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Great Build­ing: The Guggen­heim, Uni­ty Tem­ple, John­son Wax Head­quar­ters & More

Behold Ancient Egypt­ian, Greek & Roman Sculp­tures in Their Orig­i­nal Col­or

The Guggen­heim Puts 109 Free Mod­ern Art Books Online

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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