How Many Robert Indianas Are Lost Per Year?

This is Robert Indiana's screenprint "Autumn", from the "Four Seasons of Hope (Gold)" portfolio. Executed in 2012, it was produced in an edition of 82. There were also some printer's proofs and hors commerce proofs set aside, so let's say that a total 100 of these prints were created.

Robert Indiana is a prominent artist and he has an active secondary market. A copy of this piece, for instance, is up for auction next week with an estimate of $3,000 - $5,000. That's far from jaw-dropping by art world standards, but it's definitely something worth keeping around if it's in your house.

So here's my question: of the circa 100 copies of this print that were created, how many do we think are "lost" per year? Or put differently, how many copies of this print still are, functionally speaking, "in existence" in the art world?

By lost, I mean to include things like:

• The work being damaged beyond reasonable repair.
• The work being thrown away or otherwise disposed of.
• The work being in a location where it is forgotten about, or its owner not knowing what it is, such that it is unlikely that it would ever reemerge into the art world.

The last category does not include circumstances where the work is in someone's private collection and have no interest in selling it (but they know what they have), but does include situations where someone just puts it in a box in their garage and forgets about it because they don't realize it is a prominent work by a prominent artist.

Presumably, all editioned art (or all art by a given artist, if we consider their entire career production as a whole) has an attrition rate. Once the edition is produced (or the artist dies), no more is created. Meanwhile, as life goes on and entropy takes its course, work progressively gets lost. Pieces in museum collections are, relatively speaking, safe from becoming "lost". But pieces in private hands are a different story -- it gets gifted to someone who doesn't realize the work is important, or someone dies and the print is tossed while the house is being cleaned up, or it is ruined a natural disaster. Stuff happens, in short, and so practically speaking that 100 figure is going to progressively tick down as time passes.

But I'm curious what people think the rate is. When one sees an editioned work by a prominent artist, how many of those works have disappeared?

Maybe 2012 is too recent for much of this particular edition to have been lost. Robert Indiana was very well-established by then; one would imagine most people who obtained his work would be people who knew what they were getting. The proportion of "lost" pieces for earlier works may be higher -- in part simply because of the passage of time, but in part because earlier in his career his work was more likely to end up in the hands of people who didn't really think of it as an artifact to be preserved.

My parents have a couple of great limited edition prints by some of the most famous artists from the mid-20th century, and last year I did a little project where I tried to "account for" as many copies of those pieces as possible -- looking at auction records, museum collections, gallery inventories, and so on. Even for the most prominent work with the smallest edition size (28 with 7 asides), I was only able to find info on less than half; for most of the works the number was far less. That doesn't mean those unaccounted for prints are "lost" as I defined it above -- I suspect many are in private hands with owners who know full well what they are* -- but it was still interesting to witness how much of even the most famous artwork in the world is, in practical terms, missing.

Anyway, no deep thought here, just a musing of the day.

* For example, my research would not have revealed anything about my parents' ownership of these prints, but for the fact that I obviously knew what they had.

Lies, and the Lying Liars Who Believe Them

 

The above conversation captures two different accounts of why people voted for Trump. In one corner, there are those who voted for him because "he'll do what he says" (unlike, presumably, other more feckless politicians who make big promises but never keep them). In the opposite corner, there are those who voted for him because he won't do what he says -- it's all bluster and trolling and hyperbole to trigger oversensitive woke libs, but in reality he's just playing a transactional game and will be reasonable.

Emma Briant flags these two accounts with the observation that it's interesting how Trump has been able to effectively activate both camps even though they have seemingly opposite priors. I'll suggest, though, that paradoxically these two opinions about Trump are not as far apart as they seem, and can -- albeit with a very healthy dose of self-delusion -- coexist in the same voter.

Start with the premise that Trump "tells it like it is." Obviously, this seems absurd to anyone who spends a half minute listening to Trump -- he's a grade-A bullshitter whose open lies can be spotted a mile away. But for a certain type of observer -- the self-styled cynic who prides himself on knowing that every politician is some type of liar or fraud -- Trump's very brazenness loops back around into a form of trustworthiness. At least he isn't trying to pull the wool over our eyes. The lies are so obvious that they don't even count anymore. But they're deemed to be in service of some greater agenda, an agenda which the listener is confident Trump very much believes in.

Once one adopts that approach, one can absolutely simultaneously believe that Trump obviously won't do what he says he'll do and that he alone will do what he says he'll do. Simply put, if one doesn't like something he says or if some ramble taken "literally" is acknowledged to go too far, then it is one of those obvious lies that can be discounted -- the listener patting himself on the back for his sophistication in not taken the clearly absurd seriously. And everything one does like is slotted into that greater agenda that is presumed to represent a substrata of absolute, passionate commitment -- the core promises that the listener does want to believe in, desperately, and so is willing to project onto Trump with reckless abandon.

Others have categorized Trump as a classic scam artist, and we see that here too -- the trick is convincing his followers that they're in on the con, as opposed to the marks. Seeing the lies doesn't drive them away from Trump, it makes them feel like they're insiders. Believing they've spotted the ruse, they become more confident that the underlying play is whatever they're being sold.

I've said before and I'll say again: it's no accident that Arendt identified this sort of cynical outlook as a harbinger of totalitarianism, because it leads to worse than believing lies -- it leads to an indifference towards truth. There's no falsifying this outlook, since it can equally and happily accommodate belief and disbelief in equal measure.

Can One Man Really Stop the Senate?

As Donald Trump's disastrous march through America's legal institutions continues unabated, progressives are desperately looking for something -- anything -- that can stem the tide. One possibility folks have seized upon is Senate obstructionism. The line goes that even a single Senator can do a ton of things to throw sand in the gears -- objecting to unanimous consent, slowing down hearings, delaying votes -- that can extract real costs on the MAGA agenda and provide Democrats with some negotiating leverage. So far, no Senator has taken this approach, and that in turn is a source of considerable frustration to progressive partisans who feel that Democrats have been rolling over without a fight.

But for me, the fact that no Senator has done this raises a different question: If this strategy was so effective, wouldn't someone have done it by now?

There are 47 Democratic (or Democratic-aligned) Senators in Congress right now. And as a collective, I absolutely believe there are plenty of plausible explanations for why they're hesitant to adopt the defiant, resistant pose so many of us are thirsting for. If you told me that (too) many still harbor a gut desire for "bipartisanship" and "working across party lines", I'd believe you. If you told me that (too) many remain attached to Senate norms of civility and comity, I'd believe you. If you told me that Chuck Schumer has attempted to unify the caucus around a strategy that, for whatever reason, doesn't include maximal obstructionism, I'd believe you.

But if it's really true that just one Senator has in his or her power the ability to grind Congress' gears to a halt, is it really possible that not one of the forty-seven would try it? There wouldn't be a single defector?

Do you really think Bernie Sanders is afraid to rattle cages? Do you really believe that Adam Schiff has in the past few weeks become enamored by venerable Senate traditions? Do you really imagine that Tammy Baldwin is inclined to cower before any and all Chuck Schumer diktats (do you really believe Chuck Schumer is that good at keeping his entire caucus in absolute ramrod lockstep)?

It just doesn't seem plausible to me. Someone would have defected by now. In fact, even if this strategy was considerably less effective than it's cracked up to be, or even if you think Senate Democrats are all fat cat posers who don't actually care about resisting Trump at all, you'd still think someone would have tried it simply to be a clout-chaser. The fact that nobody has done it suggests that either it is a lot less effective than people think, or there are a lot more (and more serious) hidden costs to it than people recognize.

I won't claim to be an expert on Senate procedure, and reading about the various machinations around blue slips and unanimous consent and holds makes my head spin. So it's entirely possible I'm missing something here. But whatever I'm missing has to explain not why "Senate Democrats", collectively, aren't adopting an obstructionist strategy; it has to explain why every single individual Senate Democrat has so far refrained from using their power as a one-Senator army to bring things to a halt. And I just don't see what that explanation is, aside from this alleged silver bullet not actually being one.

It's "Historical Significance", Not "Contemporary Significance"

A South Carolina rabbi's speech at a Holocaust memorial ceremony was deleted from rebroadcast by the state's Holocaust "Council on the Holocaust". The rabbi took aim at such actions as book bans, anti-immigrant and refugee policies, and anti-LGBTQ policies, and noted the parallels to the run-up to the Holocaust. This, the Council decreed, was far too "political" for an event commemorating the Holocaust, which of course was not enacted by "political" actors but rather was, I don't know, some sort of meteor strike? Who can really say.

The Council's remit is to "instruct their students about the facts and historical significance of the Holocaust." Apparently there's a strong emphasis on the historical in that mission statement.

I'd say that witnessing "anti-woke" politics take aim at Holocaust education was predictable, but that would suggest that this is some sort of new evolution and it definitely isn't.

Nothing Else Like It

In one sense, what we're going through in America is highly reminiscent of other countries which have recently gone through authoritarian regresses. Hungary, India, Israel, the Philippines, and Brazil, to name a few, all have seen liberal democratic institutions decay in the face of far-right populist demagogues.

I've found this weirdly comforting -- not because what's happened in those countries hasn't been awful, but because somehow knowing this sort of thing doesn't stand outside history is reassuring. It's not the end of time, it is a thing happening in time.

Yet even this reassurance is, I fear, somewhat misleading. Because while it may be true that Hungary, India, Israel, etc. have gone through this before; and even true that (some of) these countries have or will come out the other side, what we have not ever seen is a global hegemon going through this sort of regression. Without understating the havoc that a recklessly authoritarian India or Israel can wreak on a local or even regional scale, they're unlikely to take down the entire international order with them. An out-of-control America could tank the global economy, could cause anarchic chaos to break out all over the planet, could set off a literal World War III. There's literally been nothing like it.

And domestically, with the possible exception of the Redemption-era South, we haven't in American history seen as rapid an authoritarian rollback of democratic equality and rule of law as what the Trump administration has inaugurated in its first week(!) in office. Every aspect of our constitutional order feels like it under attack, all at once, and nobody really knows how to respond.

This uncertainty, unfortunately, is sometimes paired with a strangely confident certainty that purports to know exactly how to respond -- which is to say, "something not what we're doing now."

At one level, I understand where this frustration is coming from -- "what we're doing now" can't be the right response, because it's not stopping things that need to be stopped. At another level, it really does elide the brute reality that nobody knows exactly what the most effective response is to Trump's blitzkrieg fascism. For example, I saw a report that House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries (D-NY) was taking the stance that Democrats should ignore Trump's "flood the zone" tactics and focus, laser-like, on the economic damage he was wreaking. I also saw many panning this tactic as leaving many critical issues unaddressed while missing opportunities to make hay out of massively unpopular oversteps that weren't clearly economic. I certainly see the weight of this critique, but I also understand the other side -- that trying to cover everything will inevitably result in an unfocused, chaotic response that lacks a clear narrative and just reinforces a "Dems in disarray" sensibility. How do I resolve that tension? I'm not sure -- and to be blunt, I think most people are unsure too.

My best proposal is this: the important thing is to keep fighting. The where or when or how is far less important than that it happens at all. This means I do agree wholeheartedly with the stance that Democrats' job is to be the opposition party and not give any free inches to Republican policies. But beyond that, I'm not sure the best use of our energy is engaging in internal sniping regarding who is prioritizing what messaging or narrative point best.

Is that a possible line to hold? I don't know. Is it even the best line to hold? I don't know! We're in new territory here. There's been nothing else like it.

Constitutional History

My baby's bris was yesterday. The Rabbi came -- the first time we met him, in fact (we joined the synagogue in December) -- and asked me what I did for a living. I told him I was a professor at Lewis & Clark Law School, teaching constitutional law. "Are they going to move you to the history department?", he quipped.

Ha ha ha [sob].

For many, many, many reasons, I'm glad I'm not teaching this semester. But for a while now, I've been reflecting on how I teach constitutional law, and in particular how I triage the limited time I have each term. New law keeps being made and the length of a semester stays the same, so there's always a question of what to drop in order to make room for new material.

In my classes, I actually teach a fair amount of constitutional law "history" -- that is, going through doctrinal periods whose prevailing law is no longer valid (alongside, of course, the "current" doctrine" as well). For example, I devote substantial attention to the Lochner era of substantive due process and the pre-New Deal federalism/commerce clause cases. More recently, I've kept teaching Roe and Casey even after Dobbs, and Gratz/Grutter after SFFA. I teach the new cases too, of course, but I do think it is important to trace where we came from, and I don't shirk on allocating time to that project. 

At one level, these cases are the easiest to prune for space. They aren't good law anymore; one does not need to know them in order to know what "constitutional law" is today. And I suspect there will soon be even more venerable old cases whose holdings are going to be overturned or superseded in the coming years, to be replaced by new upstart doctrines.

But as we prepare to enter what in all likelihood will be a very grim period in our constitutional jurisprudence, I increasingly believe that teaching the history is more important than ever -- simply because it demonstrates that the law does not have to be this way. There is nothing inexorable about the choices that will be made, they are not simply the way the constitution is. Keeping alive the flame of alternative possibilities -- legal regimes that once prevailed and could prevail again -- is going to matter, and it is a way of not surrendering to the totalitarian darkness that is attempting to consume us.

This, after all, is one thing that conservatives did very well with their "constitution in exile", and I have no shame in following their example. And while the arc may be long and the path may bend, ultimately, mir veln zey iberlebn -- "we will outlive them."

What Will Go Wrong Hardest, Fastest?

It's hard to keep track of the firehose of sewage the Trump administration has already started pumping out in its first few days. From civil rights to cybersecurity, the administration has been taking a wrecking ball to the American governmental project, with consequences that will likely reverberate for years, if not decades.

But I don't want to wait that long. I'm curious: which of Trump's endeavors are likely to blow up hardest, fastest, in a way that is noticeable to the broader public?

For example, take the cancellation of scheduled funding meetings at the National Institute of Health. This is a terrible thing, that will needlessly obstruct critical medical research. But while it's certainly noticeable to the doctors and scientists on the inside, the public impact of it won't be felt for a long time. It's not like there's a cancer cure that was scheduled to come out tomorrow that now is being shelved.

Ditto Pete Hegseth likely getting confirmed as Secretary of Defense. It is very bad that an alcoholic sexual predator is overseeing America's military, but we're not going to lose Buffalo to a Canadian invasion in the short-term. The fallout -- in terms of military readiness, efficiency, professionalism, and so on -- will occur over a longer timescale.

By contrast, the myriad governmental hiring freezes Trump has announced do seem to be breaking out of containment, insofar as they are kneecapping many people who in many cases were all set to move long distances to start a new job, only to have it abruptly pulled out from under them. I'm already seeing a few "leopards ate my face" posts by Trump supporters who are sure that Trump couldn't possibly have meant to do exactly what he said he was going to do.

Tariffs are another good candidate for something that will immediately, dramatically, and noticeably impact American pocketbooks -- especially if they set off another bout of inflation.

But maybe there's something else that will explode harder, faster, and stronger than I anticipate. I would say I can't wait to find out, but I suspect my preferences will have little to say on the matter.

Does the ADL Care That Republicans Admire Hitler?

Shortly before the election, I posted about the alarming fact that (a) Trump seems to admire Hitler and (b) Republicans don't seem to care that Trump admires Hitler. In the course of that post, I asked rhetorically what the ADL's response to this news was going to be, observing that the actual answer appeared to be covering their eyes with a "lalala" see-no-evil approach. This was of a kind with the new direction Jonathan Greenblatt had taken the organization, which was steadfast and resolute in never, ever, giving offense or more than the most mealy-mouthed critique to the American right no matter how open their antisemitism became.

Fast forward a few months and some increasingly pathetic acts of ADL supplication, and we reach inauguration day, where Acting President Elon Musk appears to have given a Nazi stiff-arm salute (the Nazis sure think so). 

Is the ADL on the case? Only if dismissing the case counts!

On possible basis is there to extend any sort of "grace" or "benefit of the doubt" to Elon Musk of all people? He's basically a modern-day Henry Ford (oops, bad comparison)! He's been one the leading figures injecting extreme-right antisemitism back into mainstream discourse! There are few people -- even including Donald Trump -- who have been more open than Elon Musk about wanting to resurrect the reputations and the political influence of the modern-day Nazi movement. Extending "grace" to Elon Musk should be like extending "grace" to, I don't know, the Alternative for Germany party.

But of course, none of that matters. The ADL has, over the past few months, made it abundantly clear that it views the American far-right as its friend, and so will extend infinite grace to them no matter how obvious their antisemitism becomes. It's disgusting. It's despicable. It is a grotesque abdication of the ADL's core mission. And the worst part it is, it's no longer even surprising.

I spent today taking care of my newborn, doing my best to keep him fed, warm, and safe. My only thought on the inauguration I wanted to have was that it was a shameful, shameful day. Which it was -- but it didn't occur to me that the ADL would add to that shame. 

Maybe it should have.

What a shameful, shameful display.