An excellent catalog of graphic artworks by this famous student of Dürer. A good chunk of this deals with how Baldung’s work relates to that of his former master. As such, many of Dürer’s and other possible source works are also included for comparison. All art history books should do this. Eventually, Baldung emerges from Dürer’s shadow and his prints are some of the most weirdly fantastic (in both senses of the word) prints to emerge from the Northern Renaissance.

All of Baldung’s images are presented in large and clear reproductions, many of which are printed at actual size. Unfortunately, any of his chiaroscuro prints and drawings don’t quite survive the transition to black and white. Those images end up being murky and difficult to read. A few color plates would have been nice.

As an added bonus, the writing is actually quite interesting with overviews of historical context, related source imagery, and thematic discussion. Not quite your typical drab art history narrative.

A perfectly serviceable Poirot mystery involving the most despicable kind of people on earth. That’s right, theater people.

The Witcher continues with more of Geralt not fighting monsters. There’s a conclave of sorcerers, a double-crossing, a big battle then lots of Ciri. This is not quite the series I expected. I’m not as excited to continue reading as I was before.

While wood engraving was the method of illustrating books for at least a century, there doesn’t seem to be many books about the great works of the media. With the help of Ebay and Amazon’s long-tail I have slowly been collecting whatever books on the topic that I could find. Scene Through Wood is the accompanying catalog for a large Ashmolean Museum exhibition of (mostly) British wood engravings. The exhibition was derailed by the 2020 pandemic but I think it eventually was open to the public by the end of the year. I saw the catalogue hyped by many of the printmaking artists I follow on the Insta-G (Insta-G is what us cool dudes call Instagram), so, of course, I had to buy it.

As one would expect, it is filled with many excellent reproductions of the various wood engravings featured in the exhibition. Even the abstract stuff, which I normally don’t cotton to, is lovely. Of course there are several stinkers, but overall it’s a very good collection of art with lots of variety. The author, Anne Desmet, includes several of her works throughout the book. I can’t decide of this is bold or douchey.

Each piece includes a few paragraphs about the artist. These mostly are just a laundry list of societies and titles which I’m sure is meaningful in Britain’s lingering class-based society, but here in the good ol’ U.S. of A. we just do the patriotic thing and skim over them. I did like the introduction by Simon Brett which does provide some context but, overall, this more of an overview of the variety styles and themes of 20th Century wood engraving rather than a straight-up art history lesson.

This book is massive. Over a thousand pages filled with colorful photos, poster art and columns upon columns of content. It weighs in somewhere around twenty pounds and I think I may no longer be able to have children after the hours I spent with it resting on my lap. This is basically like having an Internet search in book form. Everything you could possibly want to know about Mario Bava is here.

I got it about a year after its release—when the price dropped for a holiday sale—and vowed to read it cover to cover. I combed through every word over the course of the better part of a decade. I’d read a chapter and then seek out whatever film was being discussed. With the arrival of streaming media services, this has gotten easier as the years have gone on. But, to be fair, the first third of the book covers films where Bava’s part was limited to cameraman of special effects so I wasn’t obsessive about most of that era. Everything from Black Sunday onwards is golden.

This is the most thorough account of the life and work of an artist I have ever read. In many ways this level of miniscule detail a bit of a detriment to a casual reader, but, let’s be serious, you probably have more than a passing interest in Mario Bava if you are shelling hundreds of dollars to own a monumental work such as this (recently saw a copy on eBay listed for around $3000!). In the end, I have grown to have even more respect for Bava’s work and his genius thanks to Tim Lucas and this wonderful book.