Unveiling the True Terms of Isabella Stewart Gardner’s Will | September 18 2026, 22:26

Earlier today I wrote a post about the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum and, like everyone else, I referenced her will: it says that if the trustees change the layout, the entire collection goes to Harvard. This statement is quoted in every article, every guidebook, and every podcast about the 1990 heist. Then I got curious: what else is in the actual document? I went looking — and to my surprise, I found that the will is not publicly available. Everyone refers to it, but you can’t find it: not on the museum’s website, not in archives, nor in legal databases. All I found was a fragment on Scribd, where just the pages I needed were missing.

So I just wrote a letter to the museum archive. I sent it at 3:54 pm. By 3:58 pm, I had received a response — with photos of the original: seventeen handwritten pages on lined paper with red margins, red ribbon, wax seal, and the signature “Isabella Stewart Gardner” dated May 9, 1921, plus a typewritten codicil from 1924.

The most interesting part — the famous stipulation about Harvard is actually much more specific than it is recounted. It kicks in if the trustees display something she did not own at her death, or change the “general arrangement” of items on the first, second, and third floors — “except for the kitchen and adjacent bedrooms on the first floor.” Then everything — the land, the building, paintings, statues, trinkets, furniture, books, and a $1.2 million fund — must be sold by Harvard, and not in Boston, but in Paris, with the proceeds going towards either salary increases for professors or scholarships no less than $1,200 each per year. The fourth floor and the attic are not included in this restriction — that’s where the director lived, to whom she bequeathed an apartment rent-free, $5,000 a year, a month of vacation, and up to two servants paid for by the museum.

The will does not grant free admission to everyone named Isabella — some online sources refer to the will, but no, that’s a marketing ploy. Moreover, it states precisely the opposite: the director himself should nearly personally collect admission fees, “as the greatest public good will be achieved by such a fee,” and the museum should be open only on specific days. So the twenty-five dollars for a ticket is literally her will. She also prohibited “extravagant expenditures” on maintenance, with any excess to be given every five years to two Boston hospitals, one for a free bed.

Every year on April 14th, on her birthday, trustees are required to conduct a memorial service in the chapel at the end of the Long Gallery — the museum still does this to this day. The remainder of her estate was divided between the children’s hospital, child and animal protection societies, with the animal protection society receiving money on the condition that they spend $75 a year on a free stall in memory of the horses Dolly, Pluto, and Lady Betty and $35 on a kennel in memory of the dogs Kitty Wink and Patty Boy.

Free Admission for Isabelles at the ISG Museum: A Legacy of Eccentricity and Art | September 18 2026, 17:33

Hey, if your name is Isabella, you get free admission to the ISG Art Museum in Boston (otherwise $25). Or a discount if you show up in an “Oh, you Red Sox” T-shirt. I’m at the museum right now. You won’t find this information at the ticket counter. It’s not a promotion, but a clause in the will of the founder—Isabella Stewart Gardner, who built herself a Venetian palazzo in the middle of Boston in 1903, stuffed it with Titian, Rembrandt, and Vermeer. She also walked a lion on a leash and came to the conservatory with an “Oh, you Red Sox” band around her forehead—for this very reason, fans in gear still get a discount here.

The scariest place here is the Dutch Room, where empty frames hang on the walls, but right now it’s under renovation, and instead of empty frames, there are empty rectangles made of painter’s tape. In March 1990, two people in police uniforms entered at night, tied up the guard, and in 81 minutes took out 13 works worth about 500 million dollars, including Rembrandt’s only seascape and Vermeer’s “The Concert”—the most expensive stolen painting in the world. The case is still unsolved, and the reward for information is $10 million. The frames hang empty because the will forbids changing anything in the museum: if you move one thing, the entire collection goes to Harvard for sale 😉

If you know an Isabella—tag her, she gets in free for life 😉

P.S. I requested the museum’s will, they sent me a scan, and there’s a lot of interesting stuff https://www.facebook.com/share/1DJAbebsEH/

Mastering the Art of Russian Paints: A Guide to Rare Pigments and Where to Buy Them | September 15 2026, 00:29

I brought the paints. It’s a rare case when something made in Russia is worth buying and bringing to the USA or Europe. So, if you have artist friends, you can bring them some, they’ll be 100% happy (but only the Master-Class brand). Moreover, even China doesn’t make decent paints that you could order cheaply from AliExpress with shipping to the USA. To be precise, there are some, but they aren’t highly valued by artists outside of China.

The most valuable here is Volkonskoite. It’s a rare mineral pigment, mined almost exclusively in one place in the world (Perm region), and in tubes, it’s essentially only made by “Nevskaya Palette”. The only option on our market — dry pigment Rublev Colours: Volkonskoite Pigment, from $26.40 for 10 grams (raw material from the same place, Yefimych in Perm region), needs to be ground into oil by oneself. In Russia, I bought it for 1200 RUB ($14).

Second is Glauconite — another natural Russian green earth paint. You can buy alternatives, but basically, only from Rublev. You need to order it, plus there are many imitations, but this is pure pigment (Rublev writes that most “green earth” paints from other manufacturers are not natural minerals, but a mix of chromium oxide and ochre).

Third — Pink Ultramarine. This pigment is rare, offered by literally two or three brands – about $17-$25 plus shipping. In Russia, I bought it for 780 RUB ($9).

Two cobalt violets (dark and light) are expensive in their own right — cobalt violets everywhere fall into the highest price group, but buying them in America is not difficult (Winsor & Newton, Gamblin, Williamsburg, etc.). The value is more in the price than in the rarity. For example, Williamsburg Cobalt Violet Deep 37 ml costs $46.01 (Michaels / Jackson’s), it’s currently $53.68 at Jerry’s with a list price of $76.69. And I bought it for 1200 RUB ($15).

Cerulean. In the USA, you can buy the same class Gamblin Cerulean Blue 37 ml, from $28.80, while I paid $15. Like cobalt blue, they’re just wonderful, absolutely standard paints, easy to find anywhere. I just bought them at the same time, it turns out cheaper that way.

All these paints are artist grade, the very top. The brand “Master-class”. In Serbia, I went into five Art Supplies stores and from the Nevskaya Palette range, they only had “Sonet” – those are the simplest ones in their line (there’s also Ladoga, between Master-Class and Sonet).

After 2022, “Nevskaya Palette” almost disappeared from American and European stores. You can carry them on a plane, but in case someone objects that you can’t bring such items onboard, it’s advisable to have an SDS with you (I have one, can send it). But they’ve survived three flights over the last week, and successfully so.

Discovering New Details in “Hedgehog in the Fog” | September 14 2026, 23:50

While walking with Yuki, I watched “Hedgehog in the Fog” again. Listen, pure discoveries. I always thought he walked with a little bundle tied to a stick. Turns out, he was just carrying the bundle in his paws, and the stick was there to poke into the fog. Did you also imagine him carrying a bundle on a stick, or was it just me?

Then I thought he was wandering around shouting “horsey!” But it turns out, he only said horse sadly once, and that’s it. And actually, the horse was off to the side, and his friend, a bear cub, was calling him off-screen throughout the cartoon.

It also turned out that the hedgehog speaks with the voice of Uncle Fyodor from “Prostokvashino”.

I read also that they made the animation simply by moving cut-out characters at different distances from ordinary tracing paper.

After that, Norstein has been shooting “The Overcoat” based on Gogol since 1981. Still not finished.

The Evolution of Mermaids in Russian Folklore: From Legged Creatures to Aquatic Tails | August 08 2026, 02:15

WOW, it turns out that mermaids in Russia actually had legs, and if you asked about the tail, they would tickle you to death or drown the curious in the nearest pond. A specific feature — tousled blonde hair, hence the phrase from Dal “walks like a mermaid.” The name itself, however, is not from the type of blonde hair, but from “rusalki” — a spring commemorative festival.

And the tail actually came from sea maidens (mermaids). Mermaids are an invention of peoples living by the sea. In general, how mermaids merged with them in our perception is unclear, but it happened relatively recently.

Although there is one assumption. In Andersen’s tale, the little mermaid — literally a sea maiden (Den Lille Havfrue). But in Russian translation, it was called “Rusalka.” Lermontov has a poem “The Mermaid” from 1831, where she swims in a river. Surely the modern reader imagines a tail. There’s also a tale by Orest Somov, where the mermaid runs away from her mother, and her unfaithful lover—the Pole, was tickled to death by mermaids.

I illustrate with an 1871 painting by Ivan Kramskoy. With legs and Makovsky’s “Mermaids” (1879) – Makovsky painted it on an estate on the border of Chernigov and Poltava provinces, near Dikanka — that very Gogolian Ukrainian night, i.e., the same literary source as Kramskoy. They would have been very surprised by a tail. Also adding Prushkovsky’s Mermaids” (water nymphs) from 1877. Also attaching a drawing by Ivan Bilibin (1934).

By the way, those who depict mermaids with tails on trees – think about how she climbed up there.

The Art of Beauty Marks in Historical European Portraiture | July 28 2026, 06:34

It is interesting that the artist did not hesitate to place a black beauty spot on the temple of the hawthorn seller in this painting. At that time, it was a very typical accessory. They were applied to cover skin defects and quickly became an essential element of makeup. The black color of the beauty spot fabric created a strong contrast, visually emphasizing the aristocratic paleness and whiteness of the face, and also drawing attention to the eyes. In Europe (including Spain, where Lorenzo Tiepolo worked), there was a complex “language of beauty spots”. Depending on where the piece of fabric was attached, it conveyed a specific message to suitors.

But they probably would not have understood piercings and tattoos 🙂