It seems to be the job and perhaps the occupation hazard of the historian to remember the past, write about it and remind readers, students and citizens what happened long ago, as well as yesterday -- and who made it happen and why.
When you think of the New-York Historical Society, you may imagine exhibitions about the Founding Fathers, or programs about the Civil War. Or maybe you picture the rare Colonial-era books and documents in our research Library, or our spectacular collection of Tiffany lamps.
New-York Historical's exhibition observes that American graphic art has now largely been replaced by graffiti, online postings and social media. Still, it is arguable that there is a direct line from the images crafted by artists of the past and the videos captured by ordinary citizens today.
Following Lincoln's death, New York became the nation's center for enshrining Lincoln's legacy for the ages. It is, for that reason, particularly fitting that Lincoln and the Jews be on view at New-York Historical during this year's 150th anniversary of his assassination.
Americans responded to the art in the Armory Show with excitement, confusion, and dismay. Some members of the press called the exhibition's Gallery I, with its European modernist works, a "Chamber of Horrors."
A hundred years ago, in February 1913, some 87,000 art lovers viewed the International Exhibition of Modern Art, sponsored by the Association of American Painters and Sculptors at the Lexington Avenue Armory at 25th Street.
When my novel Running in Bed was published, one commentator questioned whether the world needed another book about AIDS. A new exhibit opening today at the New-York Historical Society, "AIDS in New York: The First Five Years" answers that question with a resounding "yes."
Max depicts his dad, a native New Yorker who would have turned 100 this year, in many iconic New York City sites. Each of the paintings in the exhibition convey intimacy, where his father -- often alone in the scene -- exudes a sense of isolation.