Sunday, November 7, 2010

Alfred Krupp's Last Day



An etching inspired by a story I heard about a former inhabitant of Capri:

At the beginning of the 20th century, Alfred Krupp's life of untrammelled indolence and wealth was marred only by the fact that everything about his love life was illegal in his native Germany. So like many before him, he took off for Italy, and led an idyllic life on Capri.

But he overestimated the liberality of his hosts, and when some Neapolitan reporters got wind of his close relationship with a local fishing boy, Alfred Krupp found himself faced with the threat of blackmail.

Animated, perhaps, by the ghost of the Duke of Wellington, he told them "Publish and be damned!" They did, and he was.

Insinuations in private are one thing, open publications another. In a single day, the world turned black around him. Shortly afterwards he committed suicide.

This is the second version of the etching. A third is underway.

2 comments:

  1. love the robust tonal areas juxtaposed against the delicate line work.

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  2. Indolence, of course, is an absolutely crucial part of the creative process: you do not find poets sitting in rows in cavernous word factories, staring at screens. They are rather to be found lolling on the sofa or strolling through the groves, nursing their melancholic temperaments and losing themselves in extended reveries.

    Tom

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