Art for your Mamma

Mother's day is less than 48 hours away and you haven't bought a card yet. ooops. Just like I did for Valentine's Day, I have scanned the collections of major museums and print makers and rustled up a handful of artworks worthy of a home-made mother's day card.

Mary Cassatt was famous for her images of mother and her child. Of Cassatt's painted portraits, these tend to be my least favorite. But none the less, their tenderness and the atmospheric effect of Cassatt's brushwork makes these heart warming Hallmark worthy scenes. My favorite is the Banjo Lesson. Mother is a teacher and the daughter leans over her shoulder eager to lean. Give this one to a mom who's taught you everything you know.

If this Cassatt doesn't do it for you, google her and you'll find dozens of prints and paintings that depict mother and child (her most famous center around bath time).

Adam Shattuck's 1850 painting, The Shattuck Family, Mother, Grandmother and Baby William is a beautiful image of ideal 19th century femininity but also of the timelessness of motherhood. Corsets may go in and out of style, but motherhood is always in. I think this is a great one to give to both your mother and her mother. (The actual painting is in the permanent collection at the Brooklyn Museum -- a place worth taking your mum if you have the day)


Blessed art thou among Women is a beautiful photograph from the turn of the century. A mother's tender kiss, the doorway and image of the annunciation on the wall referencing the western world's ideal mother (a Virgin named Mary), the soft glow around the subjects -- it's just beautiful. The photograph lives at the Met and is the work of an American Photographer, Gertrude Käsebier.


When Edward Curtis traveled across the US photographing Native Americans in the first quarter of the 20th century, he captured several dual portraits of mothers with their infants. Assiniboin mother and child ranks as my favorite -- beautiful natural light, the forest blurring in the background. For Curtis, this was an image of the next, and most likely last, generation of a disappearing race. For today's viewer, it's a warm vintage photograph of a new born and its loving parent.


For the mother to be? How about Demi Moore's famous cover shot for Vanity Fair? Her stomach is huge (she looks like she's about to pop at any second) but she's still as sexy as can be -- and you know your favorite pregnant friend is feeling pretty far from sexy right now as she watches her butt expand.


The last is my favorite -- a New Yorker cover by Danny Shanahan published in 1992 for mothers day. It's cute and reminds us that motherhood is universal among earth's creatures (as should be an appreciation of mothers!). This is going on my card.

And Now What?

My thesis is done! Woooooot. 100 pages, 20 illustrations, 60 sources and over two years worth of tears, sweat, barnes and noble bills and overdue library books. I confess -- there are two typos. Bugger. None the less, Columbia's art history department now has in its possession, "A Painter's Print: Ellen Day Hale and the American Lady Painter Etchers" by Kathleen Reckling. I can clear my shelf in Avery and relish the joy in having the freedom that follows a life without deadlines. I graduate on May 20th, yet that inevitable question that chases a pending grad has already reared its ugly head: you have a masters, now what?

You have a bachelors in Economics and a master's in art history from Columbia. What are you doing next?

You've written a thesis on the professionalization of women artists in the 19th century and the revival of the painter-etcher in the 1880s. Whaccha gonna do with that?

It's an economic recessions. What are your options?

You're 23 going on 24. What now?

It's a question that can be phrased in a thousand ways. Often it's coupled with further queries into my personal life, usually "is there a boyfriend?" (I've gotten particularly good at dealing with the second one! "No, not yet it's on my to do list... but they're just so much work and I already have 3 dogs!") The pair of questions are not new to me -- I went through graduating two years ago. Then I was fortunate enough to have the master's program lined up and thus an easy and credible explanation about my future. It's a little different this time round.

When people ask me "now what," I respond honestly but with hesitation: I'm taking the next year or two to write a book. About what? It's an expansion of my thesis -- my advisor wants me to do it. (paraphrased: "You're a wonderful writer," she said over breakfast, "really this [thesis] is just a page turner, and Hale is such a rebel, oh and the circle of women around her! You just have to do it.") It sounds impressive doesn't it? "I'm writing a book." And if I'm wearing my glasses and when I tell you this, it's even more impressive because I look like a legitimate intellectual.

But there are a few other things I could say, and have said that are also equally honest. I'm doing what all the cool people are doing -- being unemployed for a while. That usually elicits a good laugh, and if not a laugh starts a serious conversation about the current state of the job market and looks of wonderment at the idea that a girl with 2 ivy league degrees is still not qualified for anything more than an unpaid internship in the present economic environment. I tell them I need a Rhodes -- that's the masters degree that promises legitimate jobs, PhD program acceptances and big-time book deals. If you have a Rhodes, everyone assumes you're the next Bill Clinton, regardless of what that degree is in. If you have a master's in art history, everyone assumes you're going to be the next star of The Real Housewives of New York...

Which brings me to my other response to all those who ask, "what now."

Trophy Wife.

Two years ago as a weapon against those puzzled faces that appeared when I told people I was doing graduate work in art history, I pulled out the "but it's really a practical degree in Trophy Wifedom and cocktail party conversation." Of course, I wasn't serious. Art History is fantastic as a discipline because it forces you to deal with a broad range of topics and fields as well as with the visual world. So yes, it does make you a fantastic conversationalist at cocktail parties and does lend you an air of sophistication (when required). But I aspire for a career in academia or as a museum curator... wife to a trophy husband or not.

Ya.. well that was before the economic crash. I have a fatal addiction to shoes and DVF dresses, and my little book on Ellen Day Hale ain't going to pay those credit card bills. So, surely there's some financially stable guy out there who's just pining for an art historian wife? Did I mention I can cook too?

Please, Sir, Will You Stop Tapping... It's interfering with my blogging

I'm currently sitting in Columbia's Art and Architectural Library -- Avery. It's a lovely, cavernous, old-world sort of place with grottoes of books, iron railings around the second level of shelves, and huge wooden tables with proportionately huge wooden armchairs. On days like today, when the outside temperature is in the 60s and the sun is shining, the big floor to ceiling windows illuminate the marble columns and recessed white ceiling, making it a warm and cheerful place to get some writing done.

Across the table from me at this very moment is one very STRESSED business schooler. Or maybe he's an undergrad in economics -- I don't know, neither do I care. His book bag and coat are both on the table, intruding into my work space. He has a venti starbucks cup, which must have once contained a non-fat, extra-shot iced latte. Now all it contains is ice, which at evenly spaced intervals he feels the need to shake and tip into his mouth and then CRUNCHING on them. He has a lot of ice cubes still to go. I hope they turn the heating on soon...

In between the ice-rattling, he rotates among "spider push-ups" (this is the name my parents have given to the act of spreading out one's fingers, holding the two hands in front of your face and then pushing them together so that the fingers tap and spring off one another... it makes a tap-tap-tap-tap-tap sound... especially when the fingernails need a good trimming), face scratching, pen chewing, head scratching, frenzied writing, watch checking and over-zealous page turning.

Oh! Oh! Oh! He just picked his nose and looked at it... now he's resuming the writing. Back to the nose now... now the ice.. now the writing... page flipping... face scratching...

Now he's standing, finger twitting, page tapping, sneezing (I am not gonna say gablessyou), page sorting... he hasn't stopped moving and noise making.

I've decided this man shouldn't drink coffee. Not only is he red in the face, clearly HE HAS A LOW CAFFEINE TOLERANCE... so low in fact it makes him act like he's on crack.

Typically, when I'm working in Avery, I find it counterproductive to listen to my i-pod -- it just ruins the ambiance. Except for today. Today, the ear buds are in and Stevie Ray is cranked up all the way.

This fellow has just confirmed my belief that B-Schoolers should stick to their own library. There they can crunch ice, hell, even talk on their blackberries. Once upon a time I was all for cruising for future CEOs in Uris, but I think my tablemate (did I mention we're the only two people at the table... the other end is totally empty) has officially made me change my mind... that and the increased number of architectural students now making use of the art history study room... did I mention how very sexy architects can be? ;)

Homage a William Kentridge and Sergeo Leone???

So like any properly procrastinating student attempting to get work done on an icy Friday night, I've just been cruising around YouTube where I stumbled on this video, a homage to Sergeo Leone's famous spaghetti western, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. The animation is actually done with sand on a light table. I found the finished product to look remarkably similar to the animated drawings of South African artist William Kentridge. His short animated films, like History of the Main Complaint, are actually only one drawing, photographed, edited and photographed and edited and photographed on and on continuously -- you can see the erasure marks. It's a phenomenal layering and morphing process -- a process of continual erasure and addition. While I'm not a fan of the dark content, I can't help but be captivated by Kentridge's process (oh artists and their processes!). For a lighter Kentridge film, watch this homage to George Melies' 1902 Voyage dans la Lune.

Victorians Imaging Love

I'm a confessed Victorianophile -- yes, I love all things Victorian: the clothes, the books, the art, the royal families, the economic climate, the scientific advancements, the neuroses, the philosophers &c. Of course I'm also a print-fanatic (see my thesis proposal), and funnily enough, Valentine's Day gives me yet another opportunity to discuss Victorians and art/prints/visual culture. WOOOT!

The way we celebrate Valentine's Day, with Hallmark cards and lace and pink and hearts, pretty much began in the 1800s. Esther A. Howland was the first to mass produce fancy Valentines here in the states -- in 1850, she set up an assembly line of ladies all armed with lace, lithograph cupids, lines of verse and other necessary romantic addons. Meanwhile, the first machine-produced, and thus reproduced, Valentine was printed around the same time in the UK.

Here are some prints about Love just in time for a holiday that celebrates love. (I saved my favorite for last) So Right Click, Save As, Open, and Print these out for your sweetheart come February 14. Hey, it's a recession and those Hallmark cards are overpriced.

Art for a Valentine

St. Valentine's Day -- a cold day in mid February dedicated to the warmth and cheerfulness of romance and love (and lusty one night stands). This is the first of two posts intended to help those in need of those little details that make the day really meaningful. This one is about Valentine-appropriate art. For those with significant others, many of these images will make fantastic Valentine cards. For those that intend to spend the day with chocolate/alcohol, some of these images will hopefully remind you that love is possible (or, in modern times, is over rated)


Sacred and Profane Love (1514), Titian (pictured above)
This is an interesting one. On one side stands "Profane Love" -- lust, one night stands, promiscuity, etc. On the other is "Sacred Love" -- true, eternal, romantic, spiritual, soul mate kind of love. But which is which? As it turns out, Sacred Love is the beautiful nude to the right of the central stone table. She is Venus incarnate. Vouluptous, yes. But ultimately modest (look at her avert gaze) and divine.

The Kiss (1907-1908), Gustav Klimt
I've always found this one a little troubling. It is generally accepted that this is the image of two lovers in an embrace -- of a woman submitting to her lover's touch and submitting to ecstasy. Though there's something about the way her head is tilted that makes me think otherwise. But for the sake of Valentine's Day, let's stick to the popular interpretation.


Olympia (1863), Edouard Manet
This famous painting is a late 19th century modernization of Titian's Venus of Urbino. How is it a modernization? Manet's Venus is a prostitute who sells love as a commodity. So, this isn't exactly the image you want to present to your lover. It's more of a reminder how impersonal love in the modern era often is.

At Père Lathuille's (1879), Edouard Manet
This scene is so full of light and joy -- who wouldn't want to be one half of the couple at Pere Lathuille's?


Cupid and Psyche (1783), Canova
Canova's Cupid and Psyche is one of the most arresting sculptures at the Louvre. Delecate and pure, it is an image of that moment Love awakens you to the world.


The Kiss (1889), Auguste Rodin
Seriously, this sculpture is the reason I'm an art historian (and Rodin's the Burghesses of Calais). Pure passion, pure romance, a pure moment. This is what a kiss should be.


The Swing (1766), Jean-Honore Fragonard
Valentine's Day almost requires a bit of Baroque-over-the-topness. So the fella is looking up her skirt and all those petticoats. She knows what she's doing. And I think we all get the inuendo implied in the swing. Those dirty 18th Century Frenchmen ;) All the dripping sexiness aside, it is a pretty image -- very chocolate box or Card with doily appropriate.


At a New York Restaurant (1922), Edward Hopper
A little less joyful than Manet's cafe scene. However, unlike many of Hopper's other paintings of individuals in American cities, there is a greater sense of intimacy, or perhaps a lesser sense of isolation and loneliness. I really like the painting -- we're given a glance into a private moment, in a public place, between a man and woman and it's up to us to tell their story.



Lovers in a small cafe in the Latin Quarter (1932), Brassaï
Romance only the way the French can picture it -- making out in a corner of a small cafe in Paris. It's a cliche we hold dear to this day.



Coronado Beach (c. 1930), Unknown photographer
Joy. Bliss. and Beach. Just a lovely scene of a lovely couple. And there's something immortal about black and white images... dontcha think?



stay tuned for Valentine's Day appropriate playlists.

Arizona vs. Pittsburgh vs. Austen

Superbowl Sunday: The most male day in the American year. Football jerseys, buffalo wings, chili, nachos, indigestion, smashing, bashing, neck braces, etc. Yes, you couldn't possibly get anymore uber-male than Superbowl Sunday.


Which is why I found it particularly awesome that PBS and Masterpiece Theater put up Jane Austen's "Sense and Sensibility" opposite the testosterone fest. So, while the men are off chest-bumping with their posse, the ladies can indulge in the most feminine of female entertainments -- romance a la Georgian England. For, there really is no game more entertaining than the one played between men and women for love and money.

In Case You were Wondering...

what I was writing my thesis on, here's a slightly abbreviated version of my proposal...

Born in 1855 to a prominent and pious Boston family, Ellen Day Hale was one of thousands of girls who enrolled in art schools in the latter half of the nineteenth century. She was one of a handful of these girls who made art-making their lifelong profession. She lived through the American Civil War and the First World War, the 17th Amendment and the 19th Amendment, the Roaring Twenties and the Great Depression. She died in 1940 on the eve of a Second World War and the rise of Rosie the Riveter. Her life and artistic career straddled two centuries and two opposing feminine personas -- that of the “Ideal” Victorian Woman and of the “New” enfranchised twentieth century woman.

Hale was a prolific artist, who besides a number of less formal portraits and still-lives, amassed a large portfolio of etchings and earned several commissions to paint portraits of Washington, D.C.’s most prominent residents including the President and Vice-President. Today, Hale is best known for a handful of her paintings. However, during her lifetime, Hale was as well known, if not more celebrated for her etching. I believe it is her work as an etcher and her involvement in the painter-etcher movement of the late nineteenth century that offer the most new insights into Hale’s biography, and furthermore, offer insight into the position of women in the American artistic community.

In the late 19th century, women who sought economic independence through art-making benefited greatly from a burgeoning publishing industry that demanded illustrators and printers (wood engravers, lithographers, and photographers). As printmakers, women could enter the work force and earn an income without radically rebelling against societal norms. Many women, including Hale, sought formal education in painting and proceeded to have successful careers as painters, domestically and abroad. Hale and a number of these women would venture beyond the canvas to take part in the etching revival that migrated across the Atlantic from France and took hold in America in 1877. These women looked to etching not only for its commercial viability but also for its appeal as an alternative artistic outlet.

Before examining Hale’s turn to printmaking, it is important to understand the context under which she made this move. What was the etching revival, known as the painter-etcher movement? What was its impetus and who was at the forefront? What distinguished the painter-etchers from others who employed the printing technique? A number of important and influential American artists tried their hand at etching, including Mary Cassatt and James Abbott McNeil Whistler. Some gave up painting and centered their careers entirely on etchings. What was the appeal of medium to American artists like Whistler, Thomas Moran and Ellen Day Hale?

In 1887, hot off the heels of hosting the first major exhibition of etching in the US, the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston opened the Exhibition of the Work of the Women Etchers. This 400+-work exhibit sought to carve out a place for women in the etching world while also further promoting the art form. Yet, in the same year, the New York Etching Club, the country’s most well-known etching club and the group that launched the etching revival in America, still only boasted one female on its membership roster. Only a few years earlier, art critic and author Mariana Griswold van Rensselaer called the painter-etchers “our men.” Additionally, the language critics employed to describe the revival’s artists echoes the rhetoric found in the speeches of Frederick Jackson Turner and President Theodore Roosevelt – rhetoric that ultimately characterized the American national identity as male. Thus, while printmaking might have been a traditionally female art form, the painter-etcher movement was decidedly male. The critics and exhibitions present conflicting views on the activeness of women in the painter-etcher movement and beg the question: what was the role of women in the etching revival of the 1880s and 1890s?

More specifically, what was Ellen Day Hale’s place within the painter-etcher movement? How much of her oeuvre is made up of etching and what were her motivations for exploring the medium? What does her biography and work tell us about the painter-etchers broadly speaking, and particularly, about the women painter-etchers? Finally, what does her long career as an artist – as a painter as well as an etcher -- tell us about Ellen Day Hale? Academics in the last decade have frequently invoked her life and work in discussions of women artists in ¬fin-de-siècle America, yet there seems to be little understanding of the character of the woman whose biography has made her an art historian’s artist. This is something I hope to remedy while also challenging earlier writings that establish 1907 as the end of Hale’s career.

Thinking Domestically

"It is the aim of this volume to elevate both the honor and the remuneration of all the employments that sustain the many difficult and sacred duties of the family state, and thus to render each department of woman's true profession as much desired and respected as are the most honored professions of men." (Catherine Beecher & Harriet Beecher Stowe, The American Woman's Home. 1873 edition, p13).

Christmas is upon us and if there is one thing I do, without fail, during the holiday season it is that I turn absurdly domestic. Those that know me best know that I am happiest in the kitchen (when I'm not in a museum) and most at peace in the bucolic "country." But when the air turns crisp and the white puffs of snow gather on the evergreens, my affinity for cooking and roaring fires transforms this 4th Wave Feminist into a Victorian housewife. It's amazing how with a little holiday cheers I can so quickly sell my soul to the Cult of Domesticity.

As I was baking multiple batches of holiday cookies tonight, I started thinking about some of the interesting texts that have popped up while I've been researching my thesis. My work is grounded in the history of 19th century women, and to me the most captivating primary sources are the Lady's journals and advice books that flooded the market beginning mid-century.

Women like "Mrs. Beeton" and Catherine Beecher were the original Martha Stewarts, providing advice to freshly minted housewives in their lengthy publications on household management. Meanwhile, author Edith Wharton was writing "The Decoration of Houses" -- the woman's go-to guide of interior decoration -- and the Philadelphia-based Godey's Lady's Book was circulating coast to coast.

It's oddly appropriate that this nerdy art historian's thoughts wander back to the 19th century during the Christmas season (and let's put aside the fact that when I refer to "the 60s," I mean 1860). Christmas as we know it was essentially invented in the Victorian era. In 1843 Prince Philip imported the tradition of the Christmas tree to England, which then hopped the Atlantic. In the very same year, Charles Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol. The first Christmas card was printed mid-century while department stores were also a phenomenon of the 1800s.

Given my obsession with all things Victorian (from their neuroses to their corsets), I could go on and on. But there should be a point to these ramblings and it is this: sometimes, we take traditions for granted and in doing so, these traditions lose a bit of meaning and a bit of their freshness.

So a few words to close from Dickens' masterwork:
"it was always said of him, that he [Scrooge] knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!"

Getting Personal in my Personal Statement

I am Sisyphus and the wrath of my gods have given boulders in the form of research proposals, papers, and "personal statements." Right now, my boulder has taken on the shape of a personal statement, and it's a little heavier than the ones I've pushed before.

This is the third time I've had to apply to institutions of higher learning and I'm still not entirely sure what constitutes a "personal statement." I mean, when journalists want to "get personal" with a celebrity or politician, they usually ask about their love life. Now, I don't think the admissions board of Columbia or Princeton wants to hear a Carrie Bradshaw-esque rant about why I'm still single. I mean, I'm no Elle Woods here... and this ain't no Harvard Law School -- a video of me in a bikini won't sufficiently plead my case.

What I do know is that the personal statement required for graduate school applications is not the same thing as the personal essay required by college applications. The "Personal Essay" allows room for creativity, for nostalgia, for anecdotes and for recollections of life-altering events. It can be sentimental. It can be funny. It can have a moral. It can be about a pet dog. etc. The Personal Essay is its own genre of non-fiction writing -- a great genre of non-fiction writing; my favorite genre of non-fiction writing.

The big difference between the personal essay and the personal statement is that the personal statement comes with that "statement" clause. Just as in the personal essay, I'm supposed to talk about me -- I'm supposed to tell my audience something about what makes me a beautiful and unique snowflake. And then I'm supposed to add a "statement of intent" which essentially means "research proposal." Oh, and I'm supposed to tell them what I want to be when I grow up. Can I say: "Simon Schama complete with the Emmy?"

So, not only do I have to explain why this girl with a BA in Economics and a MA in Art History would be a valuable addition to the PhD student body, but I also have to put forward an intelligent and original topic of research that some established academic would want to mentor into a dissertation.

Oh Good Grief.

No wonder this Sisyphus is sweating a little more than usual as she plods up her mountain of academia, personal-statement-boulder on her back. But remember, like Camus said, "Il faut imaginer Sisyphe heureux." And believe me, I'm far far happier pushing this boulder than the one I'd be towing if I wanted to be a banker...

An Art Historian's Take on Michael Phelps

Michael Phelps is the new Belvedere Torso.

I've been saying this for the past four years, but this month's GQ officially confirms the intuition I've had since that 2004 Vanity Fair Bruce Weber shoot. (I love Bruce Weber).

The Belvedere Torso, a fragmented male nude sculpted in the age of Ancient Greece, inspired artists for centuries. Not only was it held as an image of the ideal masculine physique, but it was also the model for bodies in the Last Judgment of Michaelanglo's Sistine Chapel and continues to be copied by artists, in all media, up to the present day. Google it and you'll find thousands of 19th engravings that are either pure copies of or are images inspired by the Belvedere Torso (I'm also fairly certain several plates in Goya's "Disasters of War" are modeled on the Torso... morbid, but Goya was an artist who loved his art history).

And now we have uber-Olympian Michael Phelps. There are so many levels on which this comparison between an Olympian and a Grecian sculpture works, so I'll leave most of them for you to ponder while I gush over this particular photograph and why it's so interesting to us art history nerds.

To me, the true beauty of Mark Selgier's image (above (c) GQ) lies in its reference to the classical masterpiece -- an image of marble-white torso caught in action, twisting to reveal his divine musculature. I should mention that the Belvedere torso is thought to be a representation of the demi-God Hercules. And let's face it, Phelps has become the modern version of a demi-God, both for his athletic prowess and for his A-list celebrity status.

So many photos of Phelps are images of pure sex (check out the GQ cover and the water shot from the same issue). Yet while the composition of this photograph does ultimately draw our attention to Phelps' "manhood," we don't look at the image and think nights between satin sheets with an Olympic stud-muffin. We see an athlete and an ideal masculine body -- which is pretty sexy, but is also breathtakingly beautiful in a very chaste sort of way.

Art? Art History! It's reputable!

Questions folks have asked me about my life as an art historian, my replies, their responses:

At the salon to a visibly very wealthy woman:
"You're at Columbia! That's fantastic. So is my son. What are you studying."
"I'm a grad student in art history."
My mother: "But she did her undergrad there in Economics."
Woman: "Well thank goodness for that. She knows some men then."
Me: "Not enough that make enough money. That's why I study in the business school library."

With a friend:
"So, are there any straight men in art history."
"Yes! There are 3."
"In your program?"
"No. In the whole world of art history. oh, and 2 are married."


With my High School Physics teacher:
"What are you doing graduate work in?"
"Art history."
"So that means you're going to be a barista at Starbucks."
"No, that means I'm going to own a coffee shop in the east village."
"So really you plan to unemployed."
"More or less."

With my nail technician:
"What can you do with a PhD in Art History? Be a curator at the Met or something?"
"Sure. But I want to be a professor and write books."
"Is there any money in that?"
"Not really. But I plan to marry well, so it'll be okay."


at a book launch at an art gallery:
"So what kind of art do you study?"
"American art, but I focus on the period between 1860 and 1940."
"Why that particular field?"
"Because no one believes there was art in American before 1940."


At an alumni event 2 days later:
"What kind of art do you study?"
"American Art made between 1860 and 1940."
"There was art in American before 1940?"


At a downtown party, with a lawyer:
"What are you writing your paper on?"
"I'm working on a piece about images of logging on the West Coast of Canada and in general, the history of environmentalist concerns in Canadian painting. So, I'm focusing on this fantastic early 20th century Canadian artist names Emily Carr and a contemporary indigenous Canadian painter."
"There are artists in Canada?"


A Friend:
"So why exactly do you want to rush back into academia?"
"Because my boobs are too small for me to have a viable career as a porn star."
(tilted head, squinted eyes. pauses. I laugh, they laugh. inquisitor assumes look of relief)