Life, 1920-09-23 · page 7 of 40
Life — September 23, 1920 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page satirizes early 20th-century artistic and literary circles. The upper section praises "Miss Isadora Quigley," a fictional dancer-artist embodying the era's bohemian ideal—someone who defies social convention through "rhythmic" movement and avant-garde work. The cartoon below mocks pretentious interior decoration. Mrs. Catterton mentions "highbrow disposition," while Mrs. Parker's response—"He wanted to fix up the house with things that nobody would notice"—jokes about wealthy patrons who spend lavishly on fashionable but invisible or incomprehensible art and decor. The satire targets both bohemian artists claiming radical freedom and affluent society figures attempting to appear cultured by acquiring incomprehensible modern art—a commentary on the gap between artistic pretension and actual taste.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Our Own Home Talent ISS ISADORA QUIGLEY pays Terpsichore devotion ; In rhythmic bliss, she bends and sways— The true vers libre of motion. She blithely bounds o'er field and stream, Attired with Greek simplicity, And gives, the while, her basic scheme A lot of free publicity, Her genius is, as all agree Who watch her do her dances, An infinite capacity For taking awful chances, You may not care for it—but there! It keeps her in the open air. The name of Mr. Eustace Young, « Our author, sharp and Shavian, Some day will be on every tongue— Including Scandinavian. He has, he’s often told, a flair For tense and throbbing crudity; On every page his soul lies bare, In literary nudity. Already he is hailed as great By cultural minorities, For all his works have been, to date, Suppressed by the authorities. Our literati have confessed Nothing succeeds like the suppressed. Now art Miss Iris Blount employs; Her batik and her stencil Express her maiden griefs and joys. She swings a wicked pencil! In forms of cube and octagon, Ignoring technicalities, She splashes her impressions on, In broadest generalities. She paints no view of moonlit glen, No landscape, green and grassy; Her subjects run to gentlemen And ladies, in their chassis. Her art, our connoisseurs imply, Is all in the beholder’s eye. To down all kings and presidents Our Mr. Tench proposes; His loudly uttered sentiments Are redder than the roses. He urges anarchism’s cause In terms concise, but notable; And what he says about the laws Would scarcely pass as quotable. He pleads that marriages be few, While love be free, in plenty— Which last endears him greatly to The local cognoscenti. His word is law, among our set, On rules of sovictiquette. Dorothy Parker. Mrs. Catterson: 1 THOUGHT YOU WERE HAVING YOUR NEW HOUSE DECORATED. Mrs. Purser: We ARE, BUT WE HAD TO DISCHARGE THAT HIGHBROW DECORATOR, “ WHAT WAS THE MATTER?” “HE WANTED TO FIX UP THE HOUSE WITH THINGS THAT NOBODY WOULD NOTICE.” comicbooks.com