Juegos de casino que pagan dinero real, también conocidos como juegos de azar, son una forma popular de entretenimiento en línea. Estos juegos ofrecen a los jugadores la oportunidad de ganar dinero real mientras se divierten y disfrutan de la emoción de apostar. Hay una amplia variedad de juegos disponibles, desde tragamonedas y juegos de mesa hasta póker y ruleta. Las tragamonedas son uno de los juegos de casino más populares, y ofrecen la posibilidad de ganar grandes premios. Estos juegos funcionan mediante la combinación de símbolos en los carretes para formar líneas de pago ganadoras. Los jugadores pueden seleccionar el número de líneas de pago y la cantidad de apuesta por línea para aumentar sus posibilidades de ganar.

Pagan Roman paintings

Virtually the only example of painting in Rome and Latium to have survived from before the 1st century bc is a fragment of a historical tomb painting with scenes from the Samnite Wars, found in a family tomb on the Esquiline and probably dating from the 3rd century bc (Palazzo dei Conservatori, Capitoline Museums, Rome). In addition to Metrodorus and Demetrius, ancient writers mention the names of three painters, each of whom worked in a temple: Fabius Pictor, in the Temple of Salus in Rome at the end of the 4th century; Pacuvius, a dramatist and native of Brundisium, in the Temple of Hercules in the Forum Boarium in Rome during the first half of the 2nd century; and Lycon, an Asiatic Greek, in the Temple of Juno at Ardea in the late 3rd or early 2nd century. Nothing is known about the work of these artists.

At Pompeii during the 2nd century bc the interior walls of private houses were decorated in a so-called Incrustation, or First, style; that is, the imitation in painted stucco of veneers, or crustae (“slabs”), of coloured marbles. But in the second half of the 1st century bc , there suddenly appeared in Rome and in the Campanian cities (the most famous of which is probably Pompeii) a brilliant series of domestic mural paintings of the so-called Second style, the aim of which was to deny the walls as solid surfaces confining the room space. This was sometimes done by covering the whole area of the walls with elaborate landscapes, in which depth, atmosphere, and light are rendered in a highly pictorial, illusionistic manner. Such are the Odyssey paintings found in a Roman house on the Esquiline (now in the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City), which consist of a continuous flow of episodes that unfold, filmlike, beyond a colonnade of pilasters, with vertical, bird’s-eye-view perspective and human figures strictly subordinated to their settings. Other wall paintings, such as those in a room from Livia’s Villa at Prima Porta (transferred to the Museo Nazionale Romano), represent a great park or garden filled with trees, shrubs, flowers, and birds, with no pilasters in the foreground to interrupt the prospect and no human figures to distract attention.

The possibility of Hellenistic models for this type of painting has already been mentioned, though the surviving Hellenistic precursors were no preparation for the important Roman developments. Most examples of the type, which survived into the Fourth style, have been found on the back walls of the colonnades running around real gardens. The cool painted scenes would have given the illusion that an idler in this part of the house was surrounded by shrubs or groves of trees. Another type of landscape combined sacred and idyllic features and was often placed as though behind elaborate stage buildings. These monotone compositions held sacred columns or rustic shrines and were closely related to other illusionistic scenes peopled with little figures whose antics, the written sources make clear, were a source of endless amusement for the householder and his guests.

A celebrated frieze of life-size figures, depicting Dionysiac initiation rites and the prenuptial ordeals of a bride, in the so-called triclinium of the Villa of the Mysteries (or Villa Item) outside the Herculaneum gate of Pompeii, also belongs to the Second style. There the walls are denied by the device of substituting for them a narrow stage on which the figures carry out the ritual before a drop scene of continuous painted panels. But the most common Second-style paintings are known as Architectural and show a threefold horizontal division of the wall into dado, central area, and cornice, combined with a triple vertical scheme of design that consists of a large central panel (in the main, intermediate horizontal area), framed by flanking columns and a pediment, and two smaller panels on either side. The central panel and often the lateral panels as well are views seen through windows that break through the walls and link the spectator with the world outside, as in the house of Augustus on the Palatine in Rome.

In the Third style, which covers most of the Augustan period, the central panel picture on a wall is no longer thought of as a scene through a window but as a real picture hung on or inserted into a screen or woven into a tapestry, which partially conceals an architectural vista behind it. The columns, entablatures, and so on are completely unreal and so complicated that this Third style is sometimes dubbed Ornate.

The Fourth style, which runs from the close of the Augustan Age to the destruction of Pompeii and its fellow Campanian cities in bc 79, is less homogeneous than its predecessors and exhibits three main variants: first, an architectural design soberer and more realistic but still with a central screen or tapestry partly covering a retreating vista; second, an architectural layout that imitates a scaena (“stage background”); and third, a method (sometimes known as “intricate”) by which the whole surface of the wall is covered with a flat, white, neutral ground painted with an allover, latticelike pattern of fantastic architectural elements, arabesques, grotesques, small figure motifs, or small panels containing pictures. This third type of Fourth-style painting came into vogue at Pompeii between an earthquake of ad 63 and the catastrophic volcanic eruption of 79, and one of its most impressive exponents is the Golden House of Nero in Rome.

The subjects of the panel pictures of the Second, Third, and Fourth styles are for the most part drawn from Greek mythology. Some of them recall literary descriptions of famous classical Greek and Hellenistic paintings or show motifs that suggest their originals were painted on the Greek mainland or in Asia Minor. It is certain that many masterpieces of Greek painting did make their way to Rome as the booty of Roman generals of republican days, and wall painters could have studied them at first hand. But often those artists must have had to rely only on sketches of the celebrated pictures, and it is not known how faithfully the Roman and Campanian murals reproduce the prototypes. Other panel pictures present scenes from contemporary religious ritual, and a few show themes from Roman legend. Frequently, in the case of the Greek mythological subjects and those taken from rustic religious cults, the artist produced landscape with figures, as in the Odyssey frescoes, not figures with landscape, as on Trajan’s Column. These late republican and early imperial set pieces are competently executed, remarkably vivid, and extremely naturalistic. But, with a few exceptions, they reveal that the principles of a single vanishing point and unified lighting from a single source of illumination either were not understood by Roman painters or did not interest them.

The flat, uniform background of the last phase of the Fourth style remained a constant feature of mural painting in houses, tombs, temples, and other religious shrines throughout the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th centuries. The decoration, which stands out against that ground, takes any of several forms: (1) latticelike, allover patterns, as in many pagan tombs; (2) small groups of figures or figure panels spread out at intervals across the field, as in the Christian catacombs of Rome; (3) a mixture of large human figures and extensive scenes with small-scale figures, as in the early 3rd-century Hypogeum of the Aurelii on the Viale Manzoni in Rome, the interesting painted content of which is Gnostic or crypto-Christian; or (4) large scenes with relatively large figures, such as a group of marine deities in a 2nd-century Roman house under the Church of SS. John and Paul on the Caelian, a late 2nd- or early 3rd-century leopard hunt on the south wall of the frigidarium of the hunting baths at Leptis Magna (on the coast of modern Libya), or the early 3rd-century biblical scenes from a baptistery at Doura-Europus, an important archaeological site on the Euphrates in what is now Syria.

In the case of the Roman tombs, cross- or barrel-vaulted ceilings, where preserved, normally carry out the painted decoration of the walls, showing either a latticelike pattern or a series of small, spaced-out, figured panel pictures. At Trier (in what is now West Germany) remains have been found of a flat, coffered ceiling with panels of painted plaster from an early 4th-century imperial hall destroyed to make room for a Christian basilica. Large portions of eight painted panels are preserved. Four depict female busts—three of them with nimbi—which may be either personifications or portraits of members of the imperial family; the other four show pairs of dancing or sporting cupids. As the skillful modeling and lively naturalism of these figures show, late Roman painting could reach high standards.

Roman portrait painting comes only a short way behind portrait sculpture in technical skill and realism. One of the earliest extant examples is a group of Terentius Neo and his wife, from Pompeii (National Archaeological Museum, Naples). Both figures recall mummy portraits in Egypt, being painted in encaustic (a technique by which colours are mixed with liquid wax and fixed by heat) and ranging in date from the Flavian period to the 3rd century. A circular portrait group of frontal figures painted on wood, probably in Egypt (now in the Staatliche Museen Preussischer Kulturbesitz, West Berlin), seems to have originally depicted the emperors Septimius Severus and Caracalla, Julia Domna (Septimius Severus’ wife), and Geta (Caracalla’s brother); but Geta (so it seems) was subsequently washed out (perhaps most consequent upon his murder by Caracalla). Particularly attractive are the portraits done on gold-glass medallions, which in the exquisite refinement of their treatment may be compared to 16th-century European miniatures. A medallion in the Museum of Christian Antiquities, Brescia, dating from the 3rd century and carrying a portrait group, is a veritable masterpiece.

A Review of Distant Relatives: Ancient Imagery of the Classical Pagan Past and Modern Byzantine Icons

This fall, Fordham’s Museum of Greek, Etruscan, and Roman Art opened a new exhibition entitled “Distant Relatives: Ancient Imagery of the Classical Pagan Past and Modern Byzantine Icons.” The exhibition features large mixed media collages by artist Joni Zavitsanos , whose work combines the traditional aspects of Byzantine Christian iconography with motifs of modern society. I had the opportunity to explore the exhibit in depth and speak with Zavitsanos about the exhibition. Initially, some viewers may be offended by the artist’s choice to use elements of traditional Byzantine iconography in modern creations. Yet, Zavitsanos explains that her work can be seen as a break from tradition because of her drastic modifications to longstanding pictorial motifs. While Zavitsanos makes her own artistic interventions, it is not her intention to undermine the authority of Orthodox Christian imagery.

Zavitsanos’s artwork is heavily influenced by Byzantine iconography. She learned about this pictorial tradition early, since her father, Diamantis Cassis, was a Greek Orthodox Iconographer or painter of icons in the Greek Orthodox tradition. Orthodox Christianity holds certain modes for representing Christ, the Virgin Mary, and other saints to be authoritative. Because of this, Orthodox icons feature a limited range of motifs leaving the iconographer with minimal room for individual interpretation. A Byzantine icon from the early centuries of Christianity can look much like one made today. The consistency of imagery invites viewers throughout time to understand the message that these icons are meant to communicate: the everlasting and the divine.

However, Zavitsanos sees the value of making her own interventions. She utilizes linoleum and wood cut prints, which she made, along with cut outs from popular magazines, scriptures and other media, to create new compositions of these devotional images. Through her mixed media work, she produces a message about Orthodox Christianity and weaves in her own perspective on the connection between humanity and the divine. In each collage, Zavitsanos modifies the colors and adds unexpected elements to motifs found in traditional icons . A prominent recurring motif is the butterfly, which, to Zavitsanos, represents the Holy Spirit. Butterflies embody beauty and weightlessness, while their metamorphosis resembles the resurrection. In her embrace of the butterfly motif, she steps away from the traditional use of the white dove as representation of the Holy Spirit, and thus pushes boundaries by reinterpreting a centuries-old tradition. Her intervention sparks new questions: Can we actually fully understand the nature of the Holy Spirit? And further, is there a single right way to represent theological concepts through art?

Perhaps the most familiar Byzantine icon reinterpreted by Zavitsanos is the Christ Pantocrator (Fig. 1). Zavitsanos’s take is strikingly different (Fig. 2). Usually, Byzantine iconography must have consistently proportional facial features . In her depiction of Christ, a mixed media composition entitled “Make Love not War” (2017), Zavitsanos rejects traditions for representing Christ in his Divine form with a smooth and youthful face, instead, underscoring his humanity by exaggerating His wrinkles and giving Him a weary expression. Zavitsanos’s new mode perhaps indicates a Christ that has overseen exceptional human struggle and sin.

Through her various modifications to the traditional Pantocrator, Zavitsanos communicates the constant duality and connection between humanity and divinity. Christ’s garments, in her version, are simplified to a modest black with thin parallel lines rather than the traditional vibrant colors that are commonly used the Byzantine tradition. This contrast of black clothing on top of a gold background may refer to the complement of the human and divine natures of Christ: black to indicate that He is in this world and gold to remind us that He is not of this world. The nature of mixed media continually allows Zavitsanos to accomplish the constant connection and contrast between man and God. Zavitzanos integrates objects of our Earth, like the butterfly and the flower, with indications of the divine such as Christ’s halo and traditional composition of the icon. Most significantly, she includes a sign that is centered in the foreground within Christ’s hands which reads “Make Love not War.” She could have put this message at the top as a title, but she purposefully chose to place it within His hands, perhaps as if he is offering to the larger viewership. The placement of His hands and what He is holding is a subtle but drastic departure from standard compositions. In traditional icons, His left hand holds the Gospel to represent judgement and His right hand is held upwards with His fingers aligned in a blessing gesture . The choice to show Christ holding a sign advocating peace, rather than a judicious book invites viewers to understand the Lord, not as a figure who only dispenses judgments or blessings, but rather is a figure who symbolizes the triumph of good over evil.

“Make Love not War” is not just about promoting love, but knowing that it is God that ultimately offers unconditional love. While there is a constant battle between good and evil in our humanity, Zavitsanos’s work indicates that love always prevails. To further drive this message, Zavitsanos frames Christ with the beatitudes in the background beneath a gold layer of paint, similar to the original icon which would have gold leaf. The synthesis of Christ’s words and a gold background allows the viewer to read His words with the notion that He is divine.

One of the most striking works in the exhibition is “Weeping Icon Series II: Malala (2018)” (Fig. 3). Using a composition that is standard for Orthodox images of saints, the artist shows Malala Yousafzai with a halo and the rest of her body seems to melt away, covered by collaged photographs and text. When looking at a portrait, viewers are often drawn to the face first. Therefore, to include a contemporary face, rather than a saint, is a radical departure from tradition. Zavitsanos also draws our eye to her face by her use of line and contour around Malala’s halo; the halo is outlined black and accompanied by a lighter warm tint within the halo. And, the brightest part of this collage forms the right side of her face which is contrasted by the shadows on the left. Her use of contrast of dark and light serves to accentuate her facial features in order to invite the viewer to centralize the figure. In addition, the rest of her body is outlined by a thin silhouette which also serves to draw the viewer to her face. These elements are reminiscent of traditional Byzantine composition, where the figure is centered in the work and the body is covered by drapery.

These compositional choices are not a coincidence. Zavitsanos wants viewers to see Malala as a saint, not because of her particular religious beliefs, but because of her humanitarian actions. Saints in Orthodoxy are considered to be role models and, for Zavitsanos, Malala is a true role model. I believe that this work also expresses a similar message that her aforementioned work, “Make Love not War (2017). It promotes unconditional love; anyone can be revered if they are generous and work for humanitarian principles.

Overall, Zavitsanos draws from Greek Orthodox pictorial traditions, not to appropriate the tradition but to allow the traditional Christian depictions to be accessible to a contemporary audience. She understands the distinct difference between an icon that is venerated in a devotional space and an artwork that is displayed in an exhibition. Her artwork serves as an educational vehicle to bring others to the love of Christ and to share that message through a new medium. In the words of Zavitsanos, the holistic message of her exhibit is that “God is perfect love, we are imperfect, but He can make us perfect.”

Still unsure how her collages speak to you? Go see her exhibit for yourself before it closes on December 12th, 2019 at the Fordham Museum.

When Christian Art is Pagan (And Pagan Art Becomes Christian)

We as the Western Church have our own brand of art. It is relatively safe, clean, and historical. Though often kitsch and sentimental, it draws from the giants of western art history like Giotto, Michelangelo, and Rembrandt. A brief survey of art history according to any well-known publisher reveals Biblical scenes and gospel illustrations aplenty.

With this established history behind us it is tempting for both the Christian artist and art-viewer to refrain from engaging with creative culture beyond our little world. Anything outside of the church’s output can be considered ‘worldly’ and ought to be avoided: all the more so if it contains themes or motifs that are distinctively ‘non-church’.

As an example, for many Christian communities Harry Potter is an absolute no-go. Despite the narrative following the chosen one who overthrows the illegitimate rule of the dark Lord, Christians will often complain that there is too much ‘darkness’ in the series. All that realistic talk of magic and ritual is too close to the reality referred to (ED: I wonder whether the same thinking is behind some Christians’ negative reaction to Doctor Strange).

In this post I want to look briefly at the origins of some of the Church’s ‘safe’ art motifs. As we’ll see, ‘Christian art’ is not quite as ‘Christian’ as we often think and this raises some important questions for Christians making art today.

The early church and the artists who laid the foundations for our brand of Christian art were an eclectic bunch of folk whose unity was found in their faith alone. The first artists in the church found themselves in a cultural Babylon. Naturally, styles and attitudes towards art varied greatly, and with no uniform Jewish art source to draw inspiration from, ‘Christian art’ drew heavily from pagan influence.

Though today we as Christians can prefer work that is sanctified by our particular publishing houses or church record labels, the first Christians had no ‘clean’ art before them. All surrounding and indigenous artistic culture was ‘pagan’: it didn’t represent the monotheism they had inherited from Judaism, and yet as the church began to meet in a increasingly pictorial world, murals and icons soon emerged in their communal places.

The early artists didn’t shy away from the pagan art around them but selectively chose elements from the Roman and Greek world to appropriate into their own in order to effectively communicate the new truths of the Gospel through the old systems. I imagine that the norms of the art world were the letters with which the early artists began to write new words.

Many of our current ‘Christian’ motifs actually originate from this early cross-cultural borrowing. The halos we expect to see enshrining the heads of Christ and the saints seem to have been created in ancient Egyptian times to denote Ra as the sun god and found their way into the Middle East through depictions of the Roman sun god Apollo (there is no mention of haloes in the Bible).

The Egyptian god, Ra (with solar disc)

Another interesting appropriation by the early Christians is the Good shepherd motif. Though we can affirm with certainty that Jesus would have been an almost middle aged bearded Jewish man at the time of his ministry, the earliest ‘good shepherd’ images saw a clean-shaven Yeshua in Roman clothing carrying a sheep over his shoulders (even equipped with pan-pipes on occasion). The now certified-Christian image borrows heavily from the legend of Orpheus and possibly the Moscophorus Calf-bearer image, but within its own system of meaning, it referenced the young King David from whom the Christ King descended.

The sarcophagus of Cyriacus, detail of the good shepherd

As the early Christians looked at their surrounding culture they didn’t just see a debauched world in need of salvation but a whole realm of images that could be used to better communicate their message to all nations. It can be argued and has been argued that Roman and Greek art forms were heavily borrowed under times of persecution so that the early Christian congregations would not be betrayed by their catacomb arts. However, even after Constantine’s conversion, pagan motifs were being assimilated into the church’s oeuvre: for example, winged angels only appear in Christian imagery after 313AD.

But the likenesses didn’t just stop at the visual. The early artists were also theologians who found similarities in the Christian, Jewish, and Pagan stories. In Greek mythology Endymion was a youth who perpetually slept under the protective love of the goddess Selene. Depictions of Endymion soon became the prototype for images of Jonah lying under God’s protective gourd: this then evolved into a reference to Christ’s descent into hell and his story of salvation for the Gentile world.

One of my favourite works of the early church is found on the floor of an early Basilica in Aquileia (Italy). The image sees the whole story of Jonah depicted as one scene, the prophet lay under the gourd while simultaneously being spewed out of a mythical creature’s mouth. The seascape is alive with realistic fish of all kinds, octopi, ducks, and even some fishing cherubs. The vast work would have required great forethought and planning, and though we may not understand all of what has been handed down to us, I can still marvel at this design as a work of brilliance. It is both fully Christian yet fully ‘pagan’ (not-Christian in our understanding of historic Church design).

You may now be wondering where I am going with this. It is not my intention to discredit the early church artists, but quite the opposite. I believe that the versatility of the craftsmen and their openness to the neighboring world helped them envision a universe where all people could find the Christ in all things. It is not universalism or heresy to see the type of Christ in creation and humanity’s interpretations of it.

In fact, C. S. Lewis argues that this is exactly the type of world we should expect to find, writing,

“We must not be nervous about ‘parallels’ and ‘pagan Christ’s’- they ought to be there – it would be a stumbling block if they weren’t.”

Lewis argues that the myths of pagan cultures (and we could add the stories of superheroes and villains of our times) could have acted as a

“preparatio evangelica, a divine hinting in poetic and ritual form at the same central truth which was later focused on and (so to speak) historicized in the Incarnation” (from essays Myth Became Fact and Religion without Dogma).

My questions are:

Is there a place to borrow the contemporary ‘pagan’ images found in the arts in order to more effectively communicate what we have received?

If so, how can we as Christians appropriate from the world around us in order to create words that rightly convey the mystery of the Christ?

Pagan Philosophy

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Los jugadores pueden seleccionar el número de líneas de pago y la cantidad de apuesta por línea para aumentar sus posibilidades de ganar. Algunas tragamonedas incluso ofrecen rondas de bonificación y características especiales que pueden aumentar los pagos. Los juegos de mesa, como el póker y la ruleta, también son juegos populares que ofrecen la oportunidad de ganar dinero real.

Artwork Details

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Title: Pagan Philosophy

Artist: Arthur Dove (American, Canandaigua, New York 1880–1946 Huntington, New York)

Medium: Pastel on paperboard

Dimensions: 21 3/8 x 17 7/8 in. (54.3 x 45.4 cm)

Credit Line: Alfred Stieglitz Collection, 1949

Accession Number: 49.70.74

the artist (to Stieglitz); Alfred Stieglitz, New York (possibly 1913–d. 1946; his estate, 1946–49; gift to MMA)

New York. Whitney Museum of American Art. "Pioneers of Modern Art in America," April 9–May 19, 1946, no. 39.

Art Institute of Chicago. "Alfred Stieglitz: His Photographs and His Collection," February 2–29, 1948, extended to March 7, 1948, no catalogue (checklist no. 72).

Museum of Modern Art, New York. "From the Alfred Stieglitz Collection: An Extended Loan from the Metropolitan Museum of Art," May 22–August 12, 1951, no catalogue (checklist no. E.L.51.653; loan extended to June 9, 1958).

New York. Whitney Museum of American Art. "The Decade of the Armory Show: New Directions in American Art 1910–1920," February 27–April 14, 1963, no. 32.

City Art Museum, Saint Louis. "The Decade of the Armory Show: New Directions in American Art 1910–1920," June 1–July 14, 1963, no. 32.

Cleveland Museum of Art. "The Decade of the Armory Show: New Directions in American Art 1910–1920," August 6–September 15, 1963, no .32.

Philadelphia. Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. "The Decade of the Armory Show: New Directions in American Art 1910–1920," September 30–October 30, 1963, no. 32.

Art Institute of Chicago. "The Decade of the Armory Show: New Directions in American Art 1910–1920," November 15–December 29, 1963, no. 32.

Buffalo. Albright-Knox Art Gallery. "The Decade of the Armory Show: New Directions in American Art 1910–1920," January 20–February 23, 1964, no. 32.

New York. The Metropolitan Museum of Art. "Arthur Dove: Nature Abstracted," April 16, 1991–April 6, 1992, no catalogue.

New York. Terry Dintenfass Gallery. "Arthur G. Dove: Pastels, Charcoals, Watercolors," February 6–March 13, 1993, no. 2.

Washington, D. C. Phillips Collection. "Arthur Dove: A Retrospective," September 20, 1997–January 4, 1998, no. 14.

New York. Whitney Museum of American Art. "Arthur Dove: A Retrospective," January 15–April 12, 1998, no. 14.

Andover, Mass. Addison Gallery of American Art. "Arthur Dove: A Retrospective," April 25–July 12, 1998, no. 14.

Los Angeles County Museum of Art. "Arthur Dove: A Retrospective," August 2–October 4, 1998, no. 14.

New York. The Metropolitan Museum of Art. "Stieglitz and His Artists: Matisse to O'Keeffe," October 13, 2011–January 2, 2012, no. 63.

New York. Museum of Modern Art. "Inventing Abstraction, 1910–1925," December 23, 2012–April 15, 2013, no. 82.

Henry Geldzahler. American Painting in the Twentieth Century. New York, 1965, pp. 52–54, ill.

George Heard Hamilton. "The Alfred Stieglitz Collection." Metropolitan Museum Journal 3 (1970), p. 389, ill.

Ann Lee Morgan. Arthur Dove: Life and Work, with a Catalogue Raisonné. Newark, Del., 1984, pp. 114–15, no. 13.2.

Sherrye Cohn. Arthur Dove: Nature as Symbol. Ann Arbor, Mich., 1985, p. 101, fig. 77.

Doreen Bolger et al. American Pastels in The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Exh. cat., The Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York, 1989, ill. p. 189.

Marjorie Shelley in American Pastels in The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Exh. cat., The Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York, 1989, p. 189.

Melanie Kirschner. Arthur Dove: Watercolors and Pastels. New York, 1998, p. 33.

Jessica Murphy in Stieglitz and His Artists: Matisse to O'Keeffe. The Alfred Stieglitz Collection in The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Ed. Lisa Mintz Messinger. Exh. cat., The Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York, 2011, pp. 108–9, 258, no. 63, ill. (color).

Rachel Mustalish in Stieglitz and His Artists: Matisse to O'Keeffe. The Alfred Stieglitz Collection in The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Ed. Lisa Mintz Messinger. Exh. cat., The Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York, 2011, pp. 108–9, 258, no. 63, ill. (color).

Rachael Z. DeLue in Inventing Abstraction, 1910–1925: How a Radical Idea Changed Modern Art. Exh. cat., Museum of Modern Art. New York, 2012, p. 189, colorpl. 82.

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