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This is Camille Pissarro’s last self-portrait, painted in his Paris apartment. The artist has seated himself in front of a window, perhaps reflecting the fact that many of his paintings of Paris…
I was born in Tunisia, in Tunis, a few steps from that city’s large ghetto. My father, a harness maker, was somewhat pious, naturally somewhat so, as were all men of his trade and his station in life…
The story of my life is only exceptional in that it represents a great change of identity in the heart of the Jewish people. [ . . . ]
I was born a Jewish Algerian—a French citizen to boot—and during…
I wasn’t a very political adolescent. I had grown up surrounded by unexplained cautions, by ellipses, and all these silences had sealed off the public world, so that I didn’t really believe in it…