July 26, 1978

Remember the cat in Alice in Wonderland, and those in Cinderella, the films Disney made? They were bright and fat and striped and they are illustrations of the art of Mary Blair (October 21, 1911 to July 26, 1978). Last year Google reminded us of Mary Blair with one of their doodles on her birthday. Below we quote from an article the doodle in question linked to:

Her distinctive style, .... inspired several of Disney's early productions....[like] "Cinderella" or "Alice in Wonderland,"..."Her vibrant colors and stylized designs pervade Disney animated films from 1943 to 1953," writes animation historian John Canemaker, author of "The Art and Flair of Mary Blair."

"Beneath her deceptively simple style, lies enormous visual sophistication and craftsmanship in everything from color choices to composition."She graduated from the Chouinard Art Institute of Los Angeles at an important time. The Depression loomed heavily over the art world. Blair set aside her hopes of being a fine artist and accepted an animation job at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. She brought with her a strong background in watercolor, with its colorful tones and playful style. In 1940, she went to work for Walt Disney, who quickly assigned her to several big projects."Mary's unique color and styling greatly influenced [Disney's] postwar productions" reads the company's biography of her. Blair's keen eye helped craft "Cinderella," "Alice in Wonderland," and "Peter Pan."Color meant everything to Blair, and she experimented in ways that other animators dared not to. "Mary was the first artist I knew of to have different shades of red next to each other," remembered animator Frank Thomas. "You just didn't do that! But Mary made it work."After a decade at Disney, she left to pursue other projects. She illustrated a children's book, "I Can Fly." She designed advertising for Nabisco and Maxwell House. And when Disney wanted an attraction for the 1964-65 World's Fair, Walt himself "asked Mary to assist in the design of the It's a Small World attraction, which is pure Mary Blair in its style and concept," according to the company's biography. Like many of Google's past novelty banners, this one honors someone whose work is remembered well, even if her name has slipped away.

July 25, 1844

You could make a case that Thomas Eakins (July 25, 1844 to June 25, 1916) is the greatest American painter. And he cared for cats. The Smithsonian has a photo labeled "Mrs. Thomas Eakins's Cat,"which they describe as being researched. Another anotation of interest reads:

"Thomas Eakins painted "Home Scene" where we see a woman at a piano with a black and white cat at her side its tail up in an attitude of wanting attention..."

The Met owns this photo titled "Four Cats."

Those cats definitely have an air of the backyard conversation. I am not even sure they are all cats. I am sure they are connected with Thomas Eakins.

July 24, 1924

Palmer Cox (April 28, 1840 to July 24, 1924) was a Canadian writer. He went to California as a youth, and then to New York, where in 1875 he focused on writing children's books, which he also illustrated on occasion, and humorous pieces. This we learned from his Who's Who article.

Squibs of Everyday Life, 1874;
How Columbus found America, 1878;
The Brownies, their Book, 1887;
Queer People with Wings and Stings, 1888;
Brownies around the World, 1894;
The Brownies in Fairyland, a musical cantata, 1894;
Queer People with Paws, Claws, Wings, Stings, and Others Without Either: Goblins, Giants, Merrymen and Monarchs, Stories of Their Mischievous Pranks and Humorous Doings, (1894)

These are just a few titles. He wrote a lot about brownies, which are little people, in an era where this was very popular. Here is a cartoon he did.

There is something harsh about this cartoon, but it may just represent an era before children were protected from certain realities. Palmer Cox died rich, in Quebec. 

July 23, 1888

The man who wrote,

The Big Sleep (1939),
Farewell, My Lovely (1940),
The Little Sister (1949), and 

The Long Goodbye (1953),

Dashiell Hammett,  (July 23, 1888 to March 26, 1959) has been labeled a serious writer, not just a detective novelist.

I am not sure of the distinction. Nor was Taki, his black Persian cat. Here is author and cat



Chandler lost Taki after almost twenty years, just before Christmas, 1951.  He wrote to a friend on January 9, 1951, "Thanks for the letter and Christmas card. I didn't send any this year.We were a bit broken up over the death of our black Persian cat. When I say broken up I am being conventional. For us it was tragedy." 

They  got another Persian, another black one, within the year. Chandler named it, also, Taki. Probably just as hard-boiled as the original Taki.

July 22, 1903

According to a Guardian retrospective:

For years Eric Ravilious (July 22, 1903 to September 2, 1942) was dismissed as a mere craftsman rather than an important mid-century artist...The past decade has seen a change in attitudes...... [H]is Englishness borrowed from modernism and surrealism.....

Their point is the original assessment of Ravilious as a remnant of the arts and crafts movement overlooked the significant integration of this artist into a modernist mainstream.
They describe a person always internally at home:

Eric Ravilious had a predilection for the homely and the humorous. He was, he said, "inordinately fond of tea" and his favourite author was PG Wodehouse. Both his work – as a painter, illustrator and designer – and his personality reveal a complete lack of artistic angst. Helen Binyon, an art school contemporary as well as Ravilious's first biographer and his lover, described him as "gay and easy and ready for anything", to the point where "friends thought of him as a butterfly".

..... [A]n examination of Ravilious's output in various fields, from his woodcuts, book illustrations and murals, via his work for Wedgwood potteries and his fabric designs to his pictures for private collectors and those he made as an official war artist [allows a sophisticated reassessment.] It was his work as a war artist that cut short his life.

And here is the Ravilious's rendering of a fellow artist, his friend Edward Bawden: 

July 19, 1875

Alice Dunbar-Nelson (July 19, 1875) was a native of New Orleans, and for a while the wife of Paul Laurence Dunbar. She wrote memorable poetry and prose. We excerpt a few lines from her story:
                                               

                                                     "M'SIEU FORTIER'S VIOLIN"

...When Courcey and Martel entered the gate of the little house on Bayou Road the next day, there floated out to their ears a wordless song thrilling from the violin, a song that told more than speech or tears or gestures could have done of the utter sorrow and desolation of the little old man. They walked softly up the short red brick walk and tapped at the door. Within, M'sieu Fortier was caressing the violin, with silent tears streaming down his wrinkled gray face.

There was not much said on either side. Courcey came away with the instrument, leaving the money behind, while Martel grumbled at the essentially sordid, mercenary spirit of the world. M'sieu Fortier turned back into the room, after bowing his visitors out with old-time French courtliness, and turning to the sleepy white cat, said with a dry sob:

"Minesse, dere's only me an' you now."

The story ends though with the old man so distressed that he tries to get his violin returned.

"M'sieu Fortier," he said, bowing low, as he handed the case to the little man, "take your violin; it was a whim with me, a passion with you. And as for the money, why, keep that too; it was worth a hundred dollars to have possessed such an instrument even for six days."

Alice Dunbar-Nelson was an activist for civil rights and women's suffrage, as well as a poet, journalist, short-story writer, and playwright. An amazing artist about whom we will be writing more.

July 18, 1817

One must face the fact:  Jane Austen (December 16, 1775 to July 18, 1817) had no cat. She never lived away from family members, and who knows what scruples may have affected this decision, were it even a decision. Surely Claire Tomalin in her biography Jane Austen (1993) would have mentioned any feline connections. Tomalin, after all, mentions that Jane's brother James, wrote TWO cat poems. Nothing about Jane though. 

Beyond cats, this quote from a friend of Jane Austen, regarding the horrors that would ensue should a woman include her real name with a published work, is quite interesting. The result of such would be "to be pointed at -- to be noticed &;... commented upon--to be suspected of literary airs--to be shunned as literary women are..." Jane Austen's name did not appear in her lifetime on her novels.

We do have a cat metaphor, and let me be leisurely in leading up to it, from Jane Austen, Her Life and Letters: A Family Record written and edited by William Austen-Leigh, and Richard Arthur Austen-Leigh (1913). The correspondence is with her sister Cassandra.

Thursday [September 16, 1813, ...]

Thank you, my dearest Cassandra, for the nice long letter...
We . . . went to Wedgwood’s, where my brother and Fanny chose a dinner set. I believe the pattern is a small lozenge in purple, between lines of narrow gold, and it is to have the crest.
With love to you all, ...I remain,

Yours very affectionately,

J. Austen
....

Godmersham Park : Thursday [September 23, 1813]. My Dearest Cassandra—Thank you five hundred and forty times for the exquisite piece of workmanship [a letter] which was brought into the room this morning, while we were at breakfast, .... and which I read with high glee, much delighted with everything it told, whether good or bad. It is so rich in striking intelligence that I hardly know what to reply to first. I believe finery must have it.

I am extremely glad that you like the poplin. I thought it would have my mother’s approbation, but was not so confident of yours. Remember that it is a present. Do not refuse me.  I am very rich.

Let me know when you begin the new tea, and the new white wine. My present elegancies have not yet made me indifferent to such matters. I am still a cat if I see a mouse...

The picture of women turning into cats when they see a mouse, goes back to the Greeks, over two thousand years. The presumption is that women are essentially cats and their true nature is revealed in the irresistible circumstance of spotting a mouse.