Rare Stradivarius violin sells for $11.3 mn at Sotheby's
"This extraordinary violin represents the pinnacle of craftsmanship and classical music history, its unparalleled sound and storied provenance captivating collectors and musicians alike," Sotheby's chair Mari-Claudia Jimenez said in a statement.
It said the buyer chose to remain anonymous.
Known for its extraordinary sound, the "Joachim-Ma Stradivarius," named after its distinguished former owners, became the third most-expensive musical instrument ever sold at auction.
The most-expensive record belongs to another Stradivarius, the "Lady Blunt," which sold was sold in 2011 for $15.9 million.
"What sets the Joachim-Ma Stradivarius apart is its exceptional sound -- rich, complex, and full of depth," the auction house said.
The instrument belonged to the celebrated Chinese violinist and pedagogue Si-Hon Ma, who before his death in 2009 donated the violin to his alma mater, the New England Conservatory in Boston, on condition that some day it sell the violin to fund scholarships.
Before that, the violin belonged to the 19th century Hungarian virtuoso Joseph Joachim, who was famous for his collaborations with composers such as Johannes Brahms.
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Boston Globe
8 minutes ago
- Boston Globe
A professor's hunt for the rarest Chinese typewriter
It went into a suitcase and he took it back to California, where it joined a growing collection of Asian-language typing devices he'd hunted down. But there was one typewriter that Mullaney had little hope of ever finding: the MingKwai. Made by an eccentric Chinese linguist turned inventor living in Manhattan, the machine had mechanics that were a precursor to the systems almost everyone now uses to type in Chinese. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up Only one -- the prototype -- was ever made. Advertisement 'It was the one machine,' he said recently, 'which despite all my cold-calling, all my stalking, was absolutely, 100 percent, definitely gone.' Mullaney's mania for clunky text appliances began in 2007, when he was preparing a talk on the disappearance of Chinese characters and found himself contemplating the disintegration of everything. Among the vast number of characters in the Chinese language -- around 100,000, by some estimates -- there are hundreds that no one alive knows how to pronounce. They are written down, plain as day, in old books, but their sounds, even their meanings, have been lost. Advertisement Sitting in his office, wondering at how something seemingly immortalized in print could be forgotten, Mullaney went down a mental rabbit hole. It would have been physically impossible to build a typing machine to include all the characters that were historically written out by hand, he thought. Some characters must have made the cut, while others were left behind. He sat back in his chair and asked himself: Could he recall ever having seen a Chinese typewriter? Two hours later, he was lying on the floor of his office, looking at patent documents for such devices. There had been, over the last century and a half, dozens of different Chinese typewriters made. Each one was an inventor's take on how to incorporate thousands of characters into a machine without making it unusable -- a physical manifestation of their ideas about language. Never plentiful, the typewriters were now increasingly rare, gone the way of most obsolete technology. Mullaney was fascinated. That evening turned into months of research, which turned into years of searching, as Chinese typewriters became one of his areas of historical expertise. He cold-called strangers and left voicemail messages for private collectors, people whom he suspected, from faint traces left on the internet, of having typewriters. He pored over looking for the next of kin of the last known owner of a particular machine. He called museums and asked, 'Do you, by any chance, have a Chinese typewriter?' Sometimes, they said yes. A private museum in Delaware happened to have a surviving IBM Chinese typewriter, of which only two or three were ever made. Someone at a Chinese Christian church in San Francisco got in touch with him to say they owned a typewriter that they were trying to get rid of. Mullaney took it off their hands. Advertisement The MingKwai is legendary among the handful of people who know about Chinese typewriters. It was invented by Lin Yutang, a Chinese linguist and public intellectual who had begun to worry in the 1930s that without some way to convert ink-brush characters into easily reproduced text, China would be left behind technologically -- perhaps destroyed at the hands of foreign powers. Attempts to create typing machines usually stumbled over the problem of cramming a galaxy of characters into a single machine. Lin's solution was an ingenious system housed in what looked like a large Western typewriter. But when you tapped the keys, something remarkable happened. Any two keystrokes, representing pieces of characters, moved gears within the machine. In a central window, which Lin called the Magic Eye, up to eight different characters containing those pieces then appeared, and the typist could select the right one. Lin had made it possible to type tens of thousands of characters using 72 keys. It was almost as if, Mullaney said, Lin had invented a keyboard with a single key capable of typing the entire Roman alphabet. He named his machine MingKwai, which roughly translates to 'clear and fast.' Lin, who was then living with his wife and children on Manhattan's Upper East Side, hired a New York machinist firm to make a prototype, at enormous cost to himself. He presented that prototype in a demonstration to executives from Remington, the typewriter manufacturer. Advertisement It was a failure. The machine malfunctioned at a crucial moment. Lin went bankrupt and the prototype was sold to Mergenthaler Linotype, a printing company in Brooklyn. And that, as far as Mullaney had been able to find out, was the machine's last known location. When Mergenthaler Linotype moved offices sometime in the 1950s, the machine disappeared. In his 2017 book, 'The Chinese Typewriter,' Mullaney wrote that he believed the MingKwai had most likely ended up on a scrap heap. This past January, Jennifer and Nelson Felix were in their home in Massapequa, N.Y., going through boxes that had been in storage since Felix's father died in Arizona five years before. They were looking at a wooden crate sitting among the cardboard boxes. 'What's this?' Jennifer Felix asked her husband. He'd had a peek in the crate back in Arizona. Oh, he said, it's that typewriter. She opened it, and realized it was not a typical typewriter. The symbols on the keys looked like Chinese. Nelson Felix, who often sold and bought items on Facebook, quickly found a group called 'What's My Typewriter Worth?' and posted some photos. Then they set it aside and moved on to other things. An hour later, Nelson Felix checked on his post. There were hundreds of comments, many written in Chinese. People kept tagging someone named Tom. The couple looked at each other. 'Who's Tom?' Mullaney was in Chicago to give a talk when his phone started going off -- ping, ping, ping. The small community of people he'd encountered in his long quest were sending up digital flares, urgently trying to get his attention. As soon as he saw the post, he knew exactly what he was looking at. It was the MingKwai. Advertisement But he didn't rejoice. He didn't sigh with relief. He was gripped with fear. What if they didn't know what they had and sold it before he could get to it? Someone could buy it with a click on eBay. They could make it into a coffee table. Take it apart and make steampunk earrings. It would be gone, just like that. He posted a comment on Facebook, asking the poster to contact him right away. After a few frantic hours, he got a reply, and the next day he and the Felixes were on the phone. He told them the MingKwai's story. He said that while it was up to them what they did with it, he hoped they would consider selling it to a museum. He was afraid that if it were sold at auction, it would disappear, a trophy hidden in the vacation home of an oil tycoon. Jennifer Felix was bewildered by what was happening. It was just a typewriter in a basement. But Mullaney had made an impression. 'It was lost for half a century,' she said. 'We didn't want it to get lost again.' 'To me it's just a typewriter,' she continued. 'But to other people it's history; it's a story, a life, a treasure.' Instructions and a box of tools were used to cast more Chinese character bars for the MingKwai 9 typewriter. CHRISTIE HEMM KLOK/NYT Mullaney figured out that Jennifer Felix's grandfather, Douglas Arthur Jung, had been a machinist at Mergenthaler Linotype. It's likely that when the company moved offices, he took the machine home. Then it was passed down to Felix's father, who, for more than a decade, had kept the MingKwai with him. 'That's what my dad decided to keep and bring across the country when they moved,' Felix said. Advertisement Keys on the MingKwai 9 typewriter. CHRISTIE HEMM KLOK/NYT Why, of all he had inherited from his own father, did he hang on to this typewriter? She doesn't know. But she feels it must have been a conscious choice: The MingKwai would not have been packed by accident. It weighs more than 50 pounds. In April, the couple made their decision. They sold the machine for an undisclosed amount to the Stanford University Libraries, which acquired it with the help of a private donor. This spring, the MingKwai made its way back across the country. When it was lifted out of the crate onto the floor at a Stanford warehouse, Mullaney lay down to look at it. The history professor could see that it was full of intricate machinery, far more delicate than any other typewriter he'd seen, and he began to imagine how engineers might help him understand it -- perhaps revealing what was going on in Lin's mind in 1947 when he invented a machine he thought could rescue China. Perhaps they could even build a new one. Lying on his stomach, Mullaney began to wonder. The MingKwai 9 typewriter. CHRISTIE HEMM KLOK/NYT This article originally appeared in
Yahoo
a day ago
- Yahoo
Notorious French singer faces new probe over ex-wife's death
A notorious French singer who beat his girlfriend to death is to face a new legal investigation over the suicide of his ex-wife following a Netflix documentary about his violent behaviour, prosecutors said Thursday. Bertrand Cantat, former singer with popular 1980s rock band Noir Desir ("Black Desire"), was the subject of a widely watched three-part Netflix documentary that aired from March this year. He was sentenced to prison over the killing of actress Marie Trintignant in a Vilnius hotel room in 2003, but worked and performed after being released despite protests and calls for a boycott. Prosecutors in Cantat's hometown Bordeaux said in a statement Thursday they were looking into "potential acts of intentional violence" against his ex-wife Krisztina Rady, who was found hanged at her home in 2010. Prosecutors will look into "several claims and testimonies not included" in four previous investigations into the circumstances of Rady's death, all of which were closed without charges, the statement said. - A 'violent argument' - In "The Cantat Case" on Netflix, a nurse claims that Rady visited a hospital in Bordeaux "following an altercation with her partner, a violent argument" which had resulted in a "scalp detachment and bruises." The nurse said he consulted her hospital file out of "curiosity" in the archives of a hospital in the city where he was a temporary worker. Rady, a Hungarian-born former interpreter, had also left a terrorised message on her parents' answering machine before her death. In it, she referred to violence by Cantat, the documentary and a 2013 book written by two French journalists claimed. Bertrand Cantat's lawyer, Antonin Levy, said he was not aware of the reopening of an investigation into the case when contacted by AFP. - Albums and concerts - After being released from jail in 2007, the Bordeaux singer worked on a new album and toured with the band Detroit. His case sparked fierce debate, with many fans prepared to pardon his criminal record and seeing him as someone who had served out his punishment behind bars -- four years out of an eight-year sentence. Women's rights campaigners viewed him as a symbol of violent misogyny, even more so after the death of Rady in 2010. The release of his first solo album "Amor Fati" in 2017 sparked more controversy in the midst of the #MeToo movement, which saw women around the world speak out more forcefully about domestic violence and sexual assault. It led to several of Cantat's concerts being cancelled and protests from feminist organisations. At a major concert at the Zenith venue in northeast Paris in 2018 attended by thousands of fans, Cantat targeted journalists saying "I have nothing against you, you have something against me... I couldn't give less of a shit." gf-cko-adp/jj
Business of Fashion
a day ago
- Business of Fashion
The Rise of ‘Ugly-Cute' Labubu Dolls, in Four Charts
No one saw 2025's hottest accessory coming. Labubu dolls, cartoonish plush toys designed ten years ago by Hong Kong-born artist Kasing Lung as part of his Nordic folklore-inspired character series 'The Monsters' and now distributed by Chinese toy maker Pop Mart, have become a viral sensation this summer. The figures, which typically cost around $20, rose to prominence after K-pop star Lisa began sporting them as bag charms last year. They've since sparked wraparound queues at malls around the world and have been spotted hanging off the handbags of celebrities including Rihanna, Dua Lipa, Central Cee and Marc Jacobs. Gen-Z and Gen Alpha customers have repeatedly sold them out; earlier this summer on TikTok Shop, a single, eight-hour live stream generated over $1.5 million in Labubu sales. With their flushed cheeks, mischievous eyes, wide grins exposing nine serrated teeth, pointed bunny ears and rotund, fuzzy bodies, Labubu dolls' popularity is baffling to many. But their 'ugly-cute' looks are precisely why they're so beloved among Gen-Z. 'Consumers, driven by the dual desire for emotional comfort and expressive individuality during challenging times, find resonance in Labubus' unique blend of innocence, irreverence, and charm,' wrote Michael Appler, vice president of marketing at Trendalytics, in an email. Their nostalgic and playful aesthetic reflects Gen-Z's disillusionment with the stark realities of adulthood during uncertain economic times. The dolls' rise to prominence is also reflective of the 'lipstick index' at work: As the cost of living soars and consumer sentiment dims, shoppers are more likely to pay for small, inexpensive 'luxuries' that double as unique status symbols. While cuteness has been trending in fashion for months now, with everything from polka dots to fruit jewellery gaining popularity, Labubus in particular have stood out. Though overall viral microtrends have slowed, the Labubu is the most visible success in a series of trending 'blind box' items — or small collectibles whose contents are sealed and unknown to the buyer at the time of purchase — with limited production that includes Smiski toys (green, glow-in-the-dark figures) and Sonny Angels (plastic, semi-nude babies collected by Bella Hadid and Victoria Beckham). The dopamine rush of these limited-edition mystery boxes also gamifies the purchasing experience, and the toys serve as an 'if-you-know-you-know' marker for fellow collectors. The collectibles' ascent has been astronomical, with the Chinese government even commencing efforts to crack down on counterfeit Labubu dolls, or 'Lafufus,' earlier this year. But despite recent bullish growth, Pop Mart's shareholders fear the collectibles will soon begin to lose traction, and that the company's success can't be sustained. Below, a look at Labubu dolls' trajectory in four charts. Trendalytics analysis found that year-on-year Google searches for Labubu soared by 9,800 percent in June. Pop Mart is also benefiting from continuing consumer interest in bag charms, which saw searches more than double this summer since 2024, while average weekly posts related to bag charms on TikTok have skyrocketed over twentyfold. In the first half of 2025, mentions of Labubu alongside Hermès generated almost $30 million in media impact value — a staggering 4 percent of total conversations around Hermès — as bag charms tapped into a desire for greater personalisation. '[The] broader cultural move toward individuality is a perfect backdrop for the rise of bag charms and, in turn, Labubu,' wrote StockX senior director of marketplace Drew Haines in an email. Rare Labubu dolls have been sold for vast premiums at auctions and on resale platforms. Since October, Pop Mart has been the number-one bestselling collectibles brand on StockX, with sales up 748 percent thus far in 2025. The toy maker, which had seen fewer than 100 trades in 2023, generated tens of thousands of sales on StockX last year. Though Pop Mart said it expects a profit jump of 350 percent in the first half of 2025, investors appear to have taken a more cautious outlook on the toy maker, likely because blind box trends tend to be volatile and lack longevity. As Labubu dolls rise in popularity, they can no longer be a secret of the 'in group' or an emblem of personal identity. If early pullback is any indication, Labubu mania may have already hit its peak.
