A Stunning Man

 I love finding the names of models behind Pre-Raphaelite paintings as I think the histories of these (often working-class) women are important in regards to the creations of the works. Over the last few years especially, we seem to have made great strides in uncovering the names and lives of all the fleeting models who appeared in one or two pictures but today I'm going to tell you about a model who appeared in some of the best known Pre-Raphaelite (and adjacent) images and continued to work well into the twentieth century.  However, when I read the name in the newspaper I had no idea who they were. Let's change that today because this Pre-Raphaelite stunner is a bit different, not least because he's a chap.  Say hello to Domenico Antonio Reitzo...

Sketch for King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid (1884) Edward Burne-Jones

Now with the lovely Mr Reitzo, there is a lot of dreamy mythology which I am in no mood to shatter because I think it is an important part of who he was and what he meant to countless generations of artists.  This is a chap who spanned artworks from John Everett Millais until the Second World War, and was still modelling into his 80s. I will attempt to tell his story as best I can but I suspect when we start looking, his contribution to art will be enormous.

The story goes that while Valentine Cameron Prinsep and his friend Edward Burne-Jones were in Italy in 1859, he saw a small Italian boy running down the street. So bewitched was he with the child's appearance that he sponsored the boy (and possibly also his family?) to come to England and continue modelling.  While that is a lovely story, Domenico Reitzo, also known as Prinzi and 'Dom' to the countless artists he modelled for, wasn't born until December 1861 or possibly 1863 depending if you rely on the 1939 census or the certificates he brought from Italy. However, there are further issues with this timing when you see some of the paintings he posed for, so I'm guessing he was actually born earlier but still brought over to London as a child to act as an artist's model.  There are some definite issues of child welfare, and I'm not at all sure his parents were brought with him.  Goodness, the nineteenth century was exciting, wasn't it...?

As a child, Dom was very much in demand, but it was when it grew up that he became the superstar of the Victorian art world.  He was allegedly one of the first models at the Slade, employed by Edward Poynter, and he continued to model there every year until the 1940s. The painting that brought him to celebrity was undoubtedly Millais' image of Walter Raleigh as a boy...

The Boyhood of Raleigh (1870) John Everett Millais

You see the problem of his birth-date as Dom is not one of the little boys, but the man who is pointing out to sea. If you believe Prinsep's account that he met a little boy in the late 1850s then that could be a chap in his late teens with a false moustache, but there is no way he is a 10 year old. From the Slade work, Edward Poynter used him in a fresco in St Stephen's in Dulwich for the Trial and Martyrdom of St Stephen between 1871 and 1873. It seems amazing that Dom managed to fit this fairly steady modelling work around making and selling his own ice cream, which feels a bit of a stereotype for an Italian man in England but I bet a handsome man with a cornetto is popular everywhere...

Habour of Refuge (1872) Frederick Walker

Here we have Dom as the chap with the scythe, representing the inevitability of death as he cuts down people like grass. F G Stephen's reviewing the piece in The Athenaeum made much of the labourer's 'lithe limbs' in 'an agony of energy' and he seems to have turned the head of the young woman about to come down the steps. The romantic potential of the young man is something that the artists who flocked to him couldn't wait to exploit...

Harmony (1877) Frank Dicksee

Harmony was a painting reported as featuring the handsome features of our chap, but the writer in the newspaper in 1939 attributed it to Luke Fildes.  I can only imagine that they meant this one, and the young man looking devotedly at his lady love certainly looks like Dom.  What I love about this is that Dicksee was so young when he painted it, only 24 years old.  The girl was Hilda Spencer (not Hilda Carline Spencer), a young art student at Queens College where Dicksee was teaching, so these three young people produced such a wonderful, romantic image.

Romeo and Juliet (1884) Frank Dicksee

As Dicksee had scored so big with Harmony, it's unsurprising that he would try and recapture the magic in another picture and so we have 1884's Romeo and Juliet. This image was one of the plates in a gift book of the play in 1884 and was described in The Bookseller as featuring 'such a man and woman as Shakespeare must have pictured to himself.' 

In the meantime, Dom was also living a normal life. In 1890, he married local lass Mary Richards, signing the register with a cross as he was illiterate.  What I found interesting is that, despite being unable to write or (allegedly) read, Reitzo was never frightened to come forward and do the right thing in terms of participating in legal proceedings.  There are at least two instances of his involvement in crime (on the right side, I hasten to say), once where he tackled a mugger and made a citizen's arrest, and again where he witnessed a fight that resulted in a death.  He went to the Old Bailey as a witness testifying in Italian and English and putting up with cross-questioning.  

Speak! Speak! (1895) John Everett Millais

At the same time, he was still appearing in famous paintings. He was the startled husband, crying out at the spirit of his dead wife in Speak! Speak! and the Bromsgrove and Droitwich Messenger called the work 'one of the principal points of attraction in this year's Academy pictures.'

King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid (1884) Edward Burne-Jones

I have found newspaper articles that claim Dom modelled for Leighton, Alma Tadema, Watts, Rossetti, Perugini, Shannon and Ricketts, Harry Bates, Singer Sargent, Orpen, Sickert and Glyn Philpot which is a really extraordinary collection of artists.  He was King Cophetua in Burne-Jones' picture, which is so important I can't believe I never asked who that was, but once you see his face, you can spot him everywhere. In an article written about him in 1949, it was claimed that every living artist who had studied in London would have drawn him at the very least. In total, he posed for around 80 years which is an astonishing contribution to art.

He and Mary had children and continued to live their extraordinary/ordinary life, appearing in the 1911 census living at 50 Lancaster Street in Southwark (which is definitely not there anymore, which is a shame as I am constantly looking for people to propose for Blue Plaques) and he is listed as an 'ice cream vendor.'  Of the seven children they had, only two, Betsy and Mary, survived. By 1921, Mary is still living at home, although has been married and now has her son, Domenico (obviously named for her Dad) living with them as well. They had moved to the very lovely (if it is original, and I'd love a building historian's view on this) Fryers Street in Vauxhall. The 1920s also saw Dom pose for the Exeter war memorial as one of the soldier's around the base...

He's in his 60s by this point and still working and looking glorious.  By the 1930s, he had moved to Grace House in Kennington, and the newspaper article on him recorded his 'two surviving sons' had done well in life, one an engineer and the other a solicitor - possibly they meant son-in-laws or even grandsons by this point. Mary's son is listed as a baker in 1939, on Kensington Park Road, which still seems to be an Italian eatery according to Google Maps.

The South London Observer ran an article on Dom's career in July 1939.  In this version of the story, the little boy was running along the road in St John's Wood when he was discovered by Prinsep and whisked away to artistic stardom.  It reported on the queues of Royal Academicians who lined the streets vying for his services (which is a brilliant visual) and how he had been courted by the greats of the nineteenth century.  Even after all those years, and despite saving enough money to retire, our chap was far too much in love with his career to give it up. Grace House was also a very short walk to the City and Guild of London Art School on Kennington Park Road where he still modelled. Innes Fripp, head of the school in 1939, had known Dom for 45 years, stating he had posed at every art school in London. One anecdote he shared was that the model had been mistaken for Peter the Painter and almost lynched by a mob in Whitechapel.  The police hauled him off to the local station but he was rescued by some famous artists who he called and announced he was their favourite model. 

Apologies for the quality, I pinched it off the Newspaper Archive

I am delighted that finally in the 1939 register, Domenico Reitzo is finally listed as an artist model. He and Mary are living at 47 Kennington Oval (which must be Grace House, looking at the map). The London Evening News catch up with him again a decade later in June of 1949, aged almost 90 and the star of the Royal Academy once more. Henry K McElwee's picture The Old Model caused quite a stir, not only because it is a moving piece but because of the heritage. In the newspaper article, they place the grainy image above next to a Poynter sketch from St Stephen's just to emphasise that although art had changed, the inspiration behind it had not.  A further charming article from the summer of 1949 reported on a 'Grandfather's club' that had been formed and there was a weekly get-together of elderly gentlemen in Camberwell including 89 year old Mr J Webb, renown Dahlia grower and broadcaster known as 'Daddy Dahlia', and one who had been at the relief of Ladysmith and the Egyptian campaign of the 19th century, but the star was, as ever, the 'most immortal' Domenico Reitzo, praised to the hilt as the superstar he was.

Finally, on 3rd December 1949, Reitzo died. He had been taken into hospital after the death of his beloved Mary in November, and in the London Evening News, it was reported that hers was a loss he couldn't recover from. His 'immortal face' graced many walls, both domestic and gallery, and the question remains, if he is so 'immortal' why is he not better known?

Okay, so I know I shout 'retrospective!' far too much, but I am seriously going to try and get something done for Domenico Reitzo, if only in the publishing of this post.  I will try (as I always do) to get him a Blue Plaque because his contribution is massive to the art we all love. I know that our interest in models is quite a niche thing in art history in many ways, but it strikes me that it can be a bit sexist. I'm guessing, in the case of the Pre-Raphaelites, the men were a bit of a side-show with the women being the main event, and quite often they used each other as models, but there is no excuse for me not knowing this handsome chap's name. The list of people Dom posed for is extensive, so if you are more familiar with the output of some of the above and want to suggest other pictures Mr Reitzo could be the model for, email them over or pop them in the comments as I will be compiling a case for him. It's about time he got to be immortal again.

#TeamPainting or #TeamPhotograph?

 If you have been known me for a while, you will recognise this photograph and its source material...

The Bridesmaid (c.1900) Unknown Photographer

The Bridesmaid (1851) John Everett Millais

Somebody, for reasons we don't know other than they quite fancied it, recreated Millais' The Bridesmaid in a photograph about half a century after it was painted. It might have been for a photographic competition, it might have been just for a laugh because they had a camera, extremely long hair and a spare afternoon. We shall never know.  While I'm used to seeing models posed in photographs that are the source material for paintings, such as Jane Morris' many photographs for Rossetti, and photographs that are sort of based on the same iconography as paintings such as this one...

The Blessed Damozel (After Rossetti) (c.1906) Sidney Carter

...which is based on Rossetti's Blessed Damozel poem and paintings, I've never really seen pictures where they go out on purpose to see which is better, painting or photograph. That was until I stumbled over a wonderful article in The Quarterly Illustrator, a magnificent publication from 1894. Imagine my relief that Will Hicok Low (1853-1932), an artist and writer, had taken time out of his busy day to compare images of semi-draped actress to semi-draped figures in paintings. The things we do for art...

His article, entitled 'Contrasts of Life and Art' starts by stating an obvious point but I'm still impressed that anyone in 1894 said it out loud - nine out of ten models in paintings are women. He quotes Robert Burns (and why not) saying Nature 'her prentice hand she tried on man, and then she made the lasses' giving a very academic explanation that women are a far superior aesthetic creation than men, rather than male artists just want to a job where they see boobs. Anyway, Mr Low goes on to say that the relationship between the beauty of women on the canvas and the beautiful model is down to the artist. If the artist is a realist, then the similarity will be great. If the artist works from 'the within outwards', then the image will be less portrait-like, for which he cites Rossetti as a perfect example. Anyway, his splendid idea was to get models (in this case famous actresses) to pose for the picture to measure how realistic the effect is. It's not to say that the model looks exactly like the model in the picture but how much the overall effect can be reproduced and what are the difficulties. I offer my apologies in advance - I've tried to find as many colour reproductions as possible for the paintings but some seem very obscure now so I've made do with the scanned copy from the article where no other is available.

 

Nydia (undated) Cuno von Bodenhausen

Caroline Miskel as Nydia

First out of the trap is Cuno von Bodenhausen's blind Pompeian girl, Nydia (which I'm guessing is pronounced like 'Lydia' but with an N). Mr Low announces it has 'as much grace and sentiment...as the original picture' and that Miss Miskel does a fairly decent job in matching the model. The only difference is in the poise of the head and that Miss Miskel is less 'divinely tall' (rude) but this is a universal problem - 'painters as a rule are more generous in the proportion of length in comparison to the size of the head than nature.' For critics of Rossetti who always go on about the weirdness of his models various body parts, he's just being as 'generous' as the rest of them, apparently...

Fabiola (undated) Jean Jacques Henner

Theresa Vaughn as Fabiola

One of the difficulties I had with the article is that Will H. Low keeps getting everyone names wrong, so he calls the model for Fabiola Teresa Vaughan, but I think he means 'Theresa Vaughn'. Low rightly points out that the most simple subjects like Fabiola are the most difficult to reproduce as there really is only the head and no two heads are likely to be of the same type. He also states that painters habitually show an arbitrary and somewhat unnatural light effect.  In Fabiola, the shadow under the chin is so dark that it blends with the drapery into shadow.  By contrast, 'Miss Vaughan's fair complexion - very properly, one must admit - refused to descend' to such darkness. Well done to Miss Vaughn on being able to glow in the dark...

Magdalen (undated) Bartolome Esteban Murillo

Estelle Clayton as the Magdalen

Theresa Vaughn as the Magdalen

Low starts to get over-ambitious at this point, and brings us a two-for-the-price-of-one on Magdalens. According to Low, both models, and we welcome Miss Estelle Clayton to the party for this one, appear at the disadvantage of this image in terms of character, modelling and realism.  He complains that the painted Magdalen is too pretty and softened. Murillo's a 17th century, no doubt Catholic religious painter, I'm not sure what Low was looking for in terms of brutal realism. Possibly Low would have preferred this corking piece of restoration of one of Murillo's works, here. Lovely.

Cynthia (no date) Frank Dicksee

Estelle Clayton as Cynthia

I really regret that I couldn't find the Dicksee in colour as his stuff is always gorgeous. Low is very harsh and almost refuses to compare them as Estelle inclined her head in the wrong direction and ruined the comparison, which is a bit harsh.  Again, a bit like Fabiola, when it is a close up comparison of two women, one painted and one real, it's hard to compare especially when the artist romanticises the subject.

The Greek Girl (no date) Oskar Begas

Marguerite Cortillo as The Greek Girl

Now, I have not managed to find a damn thing about the lovely Miss Cortillo (no, Google, I didn't mean Michael Portillo, that's not helpful) so I don't know if she died horrifically young or ended up in an asylum or anything. Low loves this picture and states 'the living quality of the photograph from nature, not to insist on more evident superiorities to the original in point of beauty, make Begas's painting seem commonplace to the last degree.' I think he likes the photograph, but he does have a long winded way of saying that Begas's Greek Girl is a bit bland. The photo is possible the most lovely of all of them, I agree.

Lydia (no date) Joseph Lieck

Caroline Miskel as Lydia

 Oddly, Low didn't have a lot to say about this one and it's not a bad comparison, although the painting is absolutely gorgeous. He does clarify his previous comment about Miss Miskel not being 'divinely tall' by add she is 'divinely fair'. I'm sure Miss Miskel was delighted to hear that...

The Pompeiian (no date) Nathaniel Sichel

Theresa Vaughn as The Pompeiian

Caroline Miskel as The Pompeiian

Again, we have a double bill of ladies for Sichel's The Pompeiian (that feels like it has too many 'i's) and Low, running out of steam just seems to be complimenting the women, possibly hoping one will read it and get in touch - 'the painter would have been fortunate had he found such models to his hand.' Low, you old smoothie. Both actresses have a look of 'How long do I have to balance this on my head?!' about them...

Judith (1887) Charles Landelle

Theresa Vaughn as Judith

This was the reason I ended up on the article as Charles Landelle's magnificent Judith is going to be part of the exhibition I am working on in the Autumn. Imagine my utter delight to find Miss Vaughn's version, especially when I read she was hot from her success in '1492'.  I thought that was a serious play about the founding of America, but no, it's a smashing romp where she plays her banjo. According to Low, Holofernes would have nothing to fear from Miss Vaughn (unless she got her banjo out) and that the emotion present in the painting is not in the photograph. I think it is a bit unfair to get the actress to give us smouldering and passionate murder without good lighting.  She just looks a bit fed up by this stage, to be honest.

Listening to the Fairies (no date) Cuno von Bodenhausen

Caroline Miskel is Listening to the Fairies

So, to the last of the experiment and the one that Low announces the most successful. A bit like Nydia this is a picture from a distance, and Miss Miskel is not required to look exactly like the painting, just have the same whimsical energy, which I think she pulls off.  Low concludes that single figures in a landscape are easier than up close work, and the lighting is always going to be a tricky thing in reality. Groups are a nightmare for lighting, as are individual, separate figures, but 'with time, patience, a studio capable of affording a variety of lights, and, above all, that quality of genius which we name taste, the task would be an alluring one.' He signs off by saying 'think for yourself: and then - and only then - let the camera "do the rest".' So that's fine then, all I need is a camera, a studio, expert lighting and genius...

The Mona Barbie/Barbie Lisa, from an article here...

I really love seeing people recreate paintings, with themselves, dogs, dolls or whatever is to hand.  It says a lot about the life of the painting and what it means to people that they try and reproduce it as a living thing. It shows that art has a life beyond the artist and the canvas, that it lives in the minds of everyone who sees it as a spark to make something of our own in response. Low's idea of comparing a photograph with a painting is, by his own admission, flawed because it is hard, especially in 1894, to recreate the impossibilities of an artist's vision. The paintings he uses are not meant to be realistic so attempting to make a photograph, which is by its very nature a realistic thing, be 'painterly' is a difficult task. What is interesting is when it actually comes close, as in Nydia or actually arguably improves it, as in The Greek Girl. I hope to uncover more photo/painting images to bring you but I will conclude with our lovely models. as I said, I could find nothing about Michael Portillo, I mean Marguerite Cortillo, but here are the others...

Theresa Vaughn (and banjo)

Theresa Vaughn (1867-1903) was a singer and comedian on the American stage, specialising in music with her banjo. Her first success was in a production of Gilbert and Sullivan's The Gondoliers in Boston.  She married her manager William Mestayer, but after his death in 1896, her performances suffered.  Following the death of her brother soon after, she was committed to an asylum due to her overwhelming grief, where she died in her 30s.

Estelle Clayton

Estelle Clayton (1867-1917) made it to the grand old age of 50 before dying which is quite an achievement.  She was also a writer, producing plays and libretti, but I can't find much more than that.

Caroline Miskel

Lastly, we have the splendidly brief and tragic Caroline Miskel (1873-1898) who manages to pack in a career, a come-back and a marriage into 25 years before popping off due to kidney issues after the birth of her son (who also died). She became famous at 18 and retired after her marriage at 21. She made a come-back in 1897 but by the beginning of 1898 she was pregnant and that was that. Her husband died less than two years later, on which cheerful note I'll be off to see if Michael Portillo really did perform on the Victorian stage...

Monday 7th December - Romeo and Juliet

Into the second week of Snogvent we go, and I'm hoping we are all staying healthy and safe.  It seems contradictory to be staying away from those we love just at the time of year when we need every reason for joy and togetherness as we head towards the shortest day and longest night of the year.  Mind you, sometimes the absence of those we love could be a cause of joy, so I best move on swiftly.  Actually, on the subject of parting from those we love, here's today's picture...

Romeo and Juliet (1884) Frank Dicksee

Parting is such sweet sorrow, especially when there is a hot chap in tights leaping off your balcony (not a euphemism).  As you can well imagine, I was spoiled for choice when it came to Romeo and Juliet snogging images...

Romeo and Juliet (1867) Ford Madox Brown

Mind your giblets on the ironwork!

Romeo and Juliet (1867) Alfred Elmore (attrib)

Juliet seems to have come down to the garden for this one so there is none of that balcony malarkey, which is preferable, health and safety-wise...

Romeo and Juliet (1879) Wilhelm Trubner

 It hadn't occurred to me that Romeo had to do all that sneaking and climbing about in tights.  He must have spent half his time darning his ladders, if my life is anything to go by.  Also it has to be applauded how much bosom Juliet often has on display.  That's the spirit! If only they had continued the sneaking about and balcony snogging and less suicide-y end bit then the play would have been a far more cheery affair all round. I've always felt that it would have been much improved by the ending the amateur dramatics group give it in the movie Hot Fuzz. Anyway, back to our Dicksee...

Our kissing couple are bidding farewell at day-break, with the powdery shimmer of dawn creeping over Verona through the window.  Juliet is still in her nightie, but Romeo has had to get decent in order to make a get away.  The purse on his belt is interesting.  If you excuse the undeniably phallic dagger, then the purse looks like a heart with an arrow going through it, but the heart is black, revealing tragedy and death.

There are also passion flowers growing up the pillars, which hints at suffering and more death, which is all very jolly.  Interestingly, the leaves of some varieties can be dried and used as a sedative.  The Victorians loved passiflora because who doesn't love a religious flower? Also the temporary nature of the flower, which only lasts a day, adds to the fleeting happiness of our happy couple.  One day you are getting your leg over on a balcony, the next you are poisoning yourself in a sulky teenage strop. Kids, eh? Altogether now - 'Love me, love me, say that you love me...'

On that romantic/tragic note, I shall catch up with you tomorrow...

 

Endless Night

Welcome to 2015, my lovely readers and what a splendid year it should prove to be!  There are a veritable bevy of gorgeous exhibitions littering the horizon, including one this autumn on the artist Edward Robert Hughes.  Probably better known as 'The Other Hughes', he is best known for late Victorian, Pre-Raphaelite influenced works, including this one...

Night with her Train of Stars E R Hughes

Dark hair and dress, Night flutters through the sky, shushing a baby who scatters poppies into the air, which turn into a flight of golden birds.  All is movement, travel, but on silent wings, and cherubs cling to the folds of her dress.  I can't quite work out her wings, it is as if another figure of equal size to her travels behind her, just out of our sight.

Night and Sleep Evelyn de Morgan

It is not unusual for Night to travel with a companion; de Morgan shows us two androgynous figures, swirling through the sky.  Night leads Sleep, shelters them, while Sleep rains down poppies, symbol of both dreams and death.  The sky is not dark, but Night seems to be holding up a cloak that symbolises the night sky and both have closed eyes.  I love the echoes in the figures, the girdle and the shoes, the cloak held by night and the robe worn by sleep.  Night leads us, protects us and we are powerless but to echo its movement.

The Spirit of the Night Constance Phillott

More often than not, Night is a woman and there is a feeling of protection, of a mother tucking in her children to sleep.  Because of the darkness, the deep colouring of the robes, there is also a slight hint of threat. Night covers and smothers, Night renders us unconscious and the poppies speak both of dreams and death.  The bats that fly Phillott's Night are not comforting or protective and she looks like Death, rather than Night, about to engulf the slumbering young woman.

Night and Sleep (1894) Simeon Solomon

When Night and Sleep appear together, they can appear like lovers.  Solomon's images of Sleep and Dreams often have them intertwined, echoing lovers in the night, bound by darkness.  Possibly the safety of the dark can enable love, allowed by Society or otherwise, to express what cannot be looked upon in the light of day, expressed and explored.  Night can allow things to happen, things to be seen that would otherwise not be approved of.

Night (1885) Heinrich Faust

Moon Nymph Luis Falero

The sexuality of Night, Night as a saucy nymph, is expressed in works such as the ones above.  Again I have to call for a full exhibition of Falero's work because it is delicious.  Night as wanton streaker, her skin glowing like the moon, her hair as dark as the night sky, is the flipside of Night as Mother.  This is not a woman who wants to tuck you up and she certainly doesn't seem to want any sleep.  The presence of bats reflects the animalistic nature of Night, unruly, somewhat demonic but irresistible.

Night Edward Burne-Jones

Night Wilfred Gabriel de Glehn

When not enticing the viewer to nocturnal orgies, Night can appear as a solitary, almost lonely figure.  Night can be a time when we feel alone, that all other people are absent from our landscape and we travel friendless and unaided.  Burne-Jones' Night floats, her face turned away, unaware of our presence and de Glehn's figure closes her eyes, her arms protectively across herself.  Night is often a time for worry, the unending roll of thought which is devoid of light or hope.  Night sees no company, no help, she travels alone.  In the endless stasis of the night, we feel vulnerable like de Glehn's figure, yet completely alone.  There is no threat, nor any company, in the landscape of the night, so why do we feel so afraid? Possibly it is the darkness, disguising the things we fear, the eternal anticipation of attack as they remain unseen, untackled.  All we need to do is wait for morning, and all can be revealed and relieved.

Dawn Frank Dicksee

 Night, for once almost recognisably male, is driven from his position by the glory of Dawn, who seems a nice girl if a little ostentatious. There is nothing dynamic about Night who looks, for want of a better word, sad, weary, and just trundling off down from the hill.  Dawn seems to be shouting 'Ta Dah!' in a golden triumph of rebirth, but the figures echo each other, her swirl of scarf becoming Night's mists.

On the Wings of Morning E R Hughes

So back to Hughes, and the coming of the dawn over the landscape of night.  Dawn is winged, like Night and her confetti of birds shower from her pastel wings and the blush of the clouds. Below her, bats of night turn to birds of day.  Her face is definitely one of triumph, day over night, life over death, hope over despair.  She, like Night, is alone, but she is flying towards something, bringing with her the day in all its golden splendor.

We are past the shortest day of the year and although our nights are long, Spring is coming.
Sleep well, dear readers.

Night (19th Century) Unknown American Photographer