When Louis C.K. said he’d grossed more than $1 million off his self-released, $5 stand-up special, “Live at the Beacon Theater,” the question wasn’t “Would others follow suit?” but “Who wouldn’t?”

Jim Gaffigan is the first to adopt the C.K. method, announcing last week that he’ll produce and release his next special himself. “Mr. Universe,” which Gaffigan is taping at the Warner Theatre on Saturday, will be out in April as a simple, $5 download, with $1 from each purchase going to charity.

While not exactly following the C.K. model, Bill Maher, host of the HBO political talk show “Real Time,” is also bucking industry norms. Though Maher has filmed nine specials for HBO since 1989, his new hour, “CrazyStupidPolitics,” won’t be on TV, nor is it downloadable. Instead, Yahoo Screen (Screen.Yahoo.com) will stream the set live from California Thursday at 10:30 p.m. — for free.

It’s no wonder C.K.’s innovation has caught on. Stand-up comedy is one of the few showbiz professions in which performers are in total control of their work. If you’re in charge of your act onstage, why wouldn’t you want to have the same command when you release your work to the world?

After Timea Presley gets her class to the end of a bike ride, they hit the Reformers.

Mind-body devotees often slack off when it comes to cardio, says Timea Presley, head Pilates instructor at Mint Fitness. So when Mint added a cycling studio earlier this month, she took the opportunity to launch Spinlates, a class combining revolutions and the Reformer.

What It Is: Presley leads 20 minutes of high-intensity indoor cycling, followed by 35 minutes of moves on the Stott Pilates Reformer. “Every time I walked out of a cycling class, I felt like my muscles were melting,” Presley says. “So it seemed like the best time to stretch out with Pilates.” During the heart-pumping ride, Presley asks you to visualize trekking through Berlin, San Francisco or another locale, with music to match. Then, you’ll “arrive” at the Pilates studio. So it’s time to hop off your bike and onto the Reformer.

Moves: The Spinning segment includes a warm-up, hill climbs and sprints. Since Presley’s training is rooted in posture-centric Pilates, expect to focus on correct alignment. “Keep your shoulders back but not stiff,” she tells one student. “You want to stabilize your core and back, but don’t go rigid.”

Presley then guides students through a series of stretch-and-strength combos on the Reformer, including Hundreds (ab pulses with legs extended at an obtuse angle); triceps presses using weighted cables; and Elephants, sort of like downward dogs in which you push backward with your heels on the spring-loaded base.

Workout: “The Pilates moves felt great because I was so warmed up,” Amy Gregowski says. That’s the point, explains Presley, who finds students are more flexible and ready to tackle trickier exercises after the bike ride. So the two parts add up to an effective full-body routine.

Crowd: Although there are a dozen bikes in the cycling studio, Mint’s intimate Pilates studio holds just five Reformers, which limits the class size to the same number of people. Already, classes are filled through the middle of March, so be sure to sign up ahead of time. It’s not an exclusive club, however; non-members of Mint are also invited to come along for the ride.

 Mint Dupont Circle, 1724 California St. NW; Thu., 7 p.m., eight sessions for $272; 202-328-6468, Mintdc.com.

Laurent Amzallag taught YaLa outdoors last summer at the 7th Street Landing.

Of all of the reasons for throwing a party, it’s hard to beat Laurent Amzallag’s. “I’ve been shaking my booty for 10 years in the nation’s capital,” says Amzallag, known for his French accent, his tight shirts and his fitness program, YaLa, which sneaks a total-body workout into an hour of dancing.

To mark a decade of these derriere-defining moves, he’s hosting Hot YaLa Nights ($10, $15 at the door) on Saturday. It’s the first of a series of events designed to transform his popular class into a completely immersive experience — and raise money for Children’s National Medical Center.

The event will include an appearance by Johnny Wright (aka Michelle Obama’s hairstylist); parkour performers from Urban Evolution; massages courtesy of Noxicare; and, thanks to sponsor Popchips, lots of crunchy snacks. That’s in addition to a Lululemon fashion show. “They’re probably going to ask me to strut my thing,” Amzallag says.

Add a nightclub setting at 700 Water St. SW — the former home of Zanzibar on the Waterfront — and spectacular lighting, and participants won’t be able to help but get in the mood. “It’ll be like going to a concert, but participating,” he says. (He picked 5 to 7 p.m., however, so folks could bring kids. No alcohol will be served.)

Come dressed to exercise. You’ll appreciate it when you’ve jumped side to side for the 100th time. Those hops are one of Amzallag’s signature moves, a plyometric exercise disguised as dance choreography.

The precursor to YaLa was a regular conditioning class that Amzallag interrupted with short dances to provide cardio bursts. When students demanded more dancing, he realized he needed to incorporate some strength builders into his routines. By lifting the arms, adding in twisting motions and doing “sexy squats,” he’s managed to completely merge the two concepts.

His classes (at The Sports Club/LA and other venues in town) are already high-energy affairs, but with Hot YaLa Nights, Amzallag’s aiming higher. “I want to not only get results physically, but also mentally. I want people to be happier and walk out with a big smile on their faces,” he says.

And, of course, shaking their booties.

Oliver, 26, is a technical writer. Tiffany, 28, is a technician at the Library of Congress. They live in Laurel, Md.

The Main Event: April 14, on a farm. Tiffany will walk down the aisle to “Concerning Hobbits” from “The Fellowship of the Ring.”

How They Met: At her first job out of college. He was the guy who came in to help her set up her computer. “I pretended to know less about computers than I did to keep him there longer.”

First Date: To see the second “Pirates of the Caribbean” movie, then to a nearby lake.

First Kiss: After the movie. “I wanted to kiss her during the movie, but it felt awkward — like I was in middle school all over again. Instead, I waited until we were in a very romantic parking garage.”

How He Proposed: On May Day, at the same lake where they’d spent their first date. He hid the ring in his mandolin case.

Making It Unique: The Tolkien fans have modeled their reception after Bilbo’s birthday party from “The Fellowship of the Ring.” “We wanted to mimic the relaxed feeling with tons of food, good music, and some cool, mismatched things like silver goblets to toast with,” Tiffany says.

But vocalist Carlos Izurieta and his bandmates in the local group Police & Thieves have not only managed to enter their 30s with their punk ideals intact; they support the scene they adore by constantly going to concerts as fans as well as playing at them. With that enthusiastic spirit, it’s not surprising that Police & Thieves’ recent mini-LP, “Fracturing,” is on a label called Youngblood Records.

While Police & Thieves’ character is youthful, the band’s music is seasoned, recalling the mid-’80s heyday of D.C.’s influential Dischord Records label. The group makes vintage, ripping hardcore that’s equal parts catchy and powerful, pent-up and cathartic. Put simply, it’s timeless. Just like punk.

Anne, 24, is a government consultant. Jared, 29, is an information security consultant. They live in Merrifield, Va.

The Main Event: They will say their vows April 14 on a beach in Miami.

How They Met: At Ireland’s Four Courts. She was out with her friends, some of whom were wearing birthday tiaras. He kept asking whether they were part of a bachelorette party.

First Impressions: “I thought he was poorly dressed, obnoxiously persistent and slightly stupid.”

First Date: His persistence paid off, and she agreed to meet him for guac and margaritas at Rosa Mexicano and then catch a Caps game.

How He Proposed: While in Bora Bora. He arranged for Champagne to be delivered and then popped the question.

Stupidest Fight: “Anne thinks I drive like a grandma.”

Pet Names: He calls her “my Bunsen burner” because she’s so warm.

When She Knew: “When he started telling me bedtime stories about quantum computing. Our brains are so compatible.”

With Infinite Funds: Bill Nye the Science Guy would officiate.

Noah, 35, is an accounting manager and wrestling coach. Rachelle, 31, is a personal trainer. They will live in Vienna after the wedding.

The Main Event: Mazel tov! On Aug. 26, they’ll wed in the temple Rachelle grew up attending. In addition to the traditional ketubah, etc., they’ll have University of Virginia colors to celebrate their shared school heritage.

How They Met: At a gym; she noticed his University of Virginia shirt.

First Date: An Italian restaurant in Arlington, years after they first met.

How He Proposed: At the Jefferson Memorial during Hanukkah. “The best gift for Hanukkah was Noah.”

Most-Hated Non-Clothing Item: His “foo foo” throw pillows from his ex.

When They Knew: She had a feeling on their first date. He knew after they went to a gross zombie movie on their second date, got nauseated and left, but still had a great time.

Joanna Hawthorne shows off the pulp she has left in her juicer. She’s using the pulp to make wraps for raw sandwiches.

“I’m the unhealthiest person,” 48-year-old Andrea Thimm proclaimed during a visit to Hawthorne Homemade last week. But her presence at the new rustic market and juice bar near her house in Cleveland Park is an attempt to change that. Her order that day: “Glowing Skin,” a chuggable combo of carrot, kale, apple, parsley and ginger.

Thimm’s only just picked up her juice habit, but she’s already seeing results. “It’s given me natural energy to get through the late afternoon,” she says. “I feel the effects immediately.”

So if you see a higher percentage of Washingtonians walking around with extra vim and vigor, blame the veggies. The District had been thirsty for juice options for years, and now, suddenly, there’s a cornucopia.

Hawthorne (3706 Macomb St. NW; 202-248-2374) started slinging juice last month. December marked the openings of both Puree Artisan Juice Bar (4903 Elm St., Bethesda; 301-654-7873), a sleek hangout that caters to the Equinox Fitness crowd, and Khepra’s Raw Food Juice Bar (402 H St. NE; 202-489-8476), a takeout spot tucked away at the back of an African-themed health products store.

Work downtown? Drinks from Juice Revolution, a food truck that launched in November, will be available at D.C. locations of the fast casual restaurant chain Freshii. And Juice Joint (1025 Vermont Ave. NW; 202-347-6783), the café that’s been selling its namesake for 15 years, will reopen in March with double the space — and a glass-enclosed vertical wheatgrass grower.

“D.C. has forever been behind in terms of juicing,” says Juice Joint owner Tom Holland. But every year, he’s seen interest grow, and since being closed in January for the renovations, he’s been bombarded with calls from customers looking for a fix. He’s hoping that the simultaneous arrival of all of these new places means grabbing a carrot concoction won’t be so hard anymore.

All of the establishments praise the healing properties of their menus — the phrase “liquid vitamins” gets thrown around a lot — but each has a twist on the juice bar concept.

Khepra Anu’s obsession is his homemade coconut water, which is the base of each of his juices. (His Raw Food Juice Bar goes through 700 coconuts a week.) Puree emphasizes its premium, organic ingredients. Those green shots aren’t just wheatgrass, but “the best wheatgrass in the country,” says chef Steve Mekoski, a Culinary Institute of America grad who’s particularly proud of his handcrafted almond milk, made with alkaline water and sweetened with dates and vanilla bean.

While Puree sells almost nothing besides juice, Hawthorne Homemade also hawks grocery items, soups, sandwiches and coffee to expose more customers to Joanna Hawthorne’s organic blends.

And nowhere is quite like the B Spot (1123 Pennsylvania Ave. SE, 202-546-7186), a juice bar/tea room/gallery that opened just over a year ago, where patrons can take in poetry readings while sipping a wineglass of carrot, beet and cucumber juices.

It all sounds delicious to Hawthorne, who sees a juicier future for the District. “There’s fast food on every corner,” she says. “And they all do well.” Just wait until more folks taste a real happy meal.

Four-Drink Minimum

The three new juice bars don’t just want you to drink juice. They want you to drink just juice — for a few days. That’s what’s called a cleanse, a holistic health practice that’s been glamorized by celebs who use liquid diets to prepare for the red carpet.

The benefits go beyond weight loss, says Khepra Anu, who’s been running his weeklong Mojo Juice Detox ($295) since 2005. (The next one starts March 18.) By giving your body a vacation from breaking down what you eat, it can focus on rebuilding, he says. “After a cleanse, you’ll feel light and energized,” adds Joanna Hawthorne, who suggests her regimen ($150) to nearly everyone who walks into Hawthorne Homemade. It’s a three-day supply of eight juices per day, plus a raw meal on the fourth day to help you transition. (Or, you can commit to drinking four juices a day and supplement with unprocessed, vegan foods as needed for $75.) Puree offers two set cleanses ($65 one day, $180 three days). The difference? The second level features more green juices. You have to develop a taste for those, but owner Amy Waldman says it’s eventually easy being green.

Price Check

Before you freak out about how much these juices cost — as much as $10 a pop at Puree — remember that a heck of a lot of produce goes into each glass. (Puree’s 22 Karat uses 2.2 pounds of organic carrots.) Plus, you won’t need to deal with cleanup, a step that often discourages home juicers.

My girlfriend is constantly making negative comments about herself that she wants me to disagree with. It’s so frequent that I’ve started to ignore it. She criticizes her weight, her intelligence, her hair, etc. I’m tired of it, honestly, and if I keep telling her “Babe, you look great,” then it doesn’t seem to help. So I just don’t say anything, which angers her. -Annoyed

I’d help you, but I’m just so horrible at giving advice!

It sounds like you get that your girlfriend seems to have some self-esteem issues. She’s probably either not used to hearing praise from others or is not easily able to believe she’s worthy of it. You’re right not to buy into this cycle, making it even worse.

Do a preemptive strike: “It bothers me when you make negative comments about yourself — you know I don’t agree with them. But I feel like the more I speak up, the worse it gets.” Then listen. If you help her become aware, in the moment, of what she’s saying, she can finally start to turn it off — doing both of you a huge favor.

Don’t Go West — At Least, Not Yet

My relationship with my husband is on the rocks, and we’re considering separation. I’ve had an extremely conflicted relationship with his daughter from a previous marriage, who’s 16 with many behavioral problems. If we do separate, I want to move to California. My husband feels betrayed by this and thinks I’m abandoning this girl. I admit that if we had a closer relationship, I would feel more of a pull to stay. But, honestly, not having the stress is very appealing. Does this make me a bad person? -Always a Stepmom?

You don’t need a psychologist to assess whether you’re a bad person. I think you realize how this looks to others, and you’re seeking justification to do it. I find it interesting you never referred to her as your stepdaughter, and I wonder whether you truly made a commitment to her when you married her dad.

Like it or not, she’s part of your family. And she’s 16 and troubled. Stay in the area, at least for now. It’s a sacrifice, but part of her problems may stem from the fact that she never thought she mattered much. A last-ditch effort to prove to her that isn’t true could go a long way — and help your conscience.

-Several readers wanted to let me know that when they see something, they also say something. It’s an approach that gets a mixed response. “I’ve told more than my fair share of people that eating and drinking is not permitted on the train, and they look at me like I have a third eye,” reported Mark Size. Once, Lois Steinberg reminded a woman about the rule, and when the woman just kept on eating, Steinberg quipped, “You must be a lawyer.” “No, a law student,” the diner responded.

-Patrick Ney made the case for why coffee drinking deserves an exemption to the no-eating-or-drinking rule. The ban “is a decent idea being taken too far. I think the ability to drink coffee in the train is simply more important than the need for absolute cleanliness,” he argued. “I will take the sight of an occasional rat any day over a non-caffeinated commute.” He invites police to come find him at the Chinatown station at 8:10 a.m.

-“Metro-riding rule breakers abound. I let this one go, but still captured the moment,” tweeted Jim Darling. It was accompanied by photographic evidence, showing a woman stuffing her mouth while squeezing a soda can between her legs. Maybe eaters and drinkers will ignore complaints from other riders — and maybe Metro doesn’t have the staff to adequately police behavior — but a public shame campaign has potential.

-Geoffrey Patton found someone setting a really bad example: a Metro employee eating chicken fingers. But he didn’t call her out on it, because he was focused on another problem. Despite reporting it last week, Patton keeps seeing (and smelling) a dead opossum on the tracks at College Park. “Another few days,” he wrote, “and no one will be able to eat on that branch of the Green Line.”

Puff Ditty: “Hey, marshmallow, are you the next cupcake? You’re soft and puffy, and you taste better than a milk shake.” OK, maybe the s’more’s best friend won’t put G-town Cupcake out of business (and our rap career is looking even more doubtful). But Shauna Severs’ “Marshmallow Madness” ($17, Quirk) makes a case for DIY squishy sweets in flavors such as margarita, above, and salted peanut, as well as ’mallow-powered whoopie pies, roulades and, yes, cupcakes.

A Ruff Job: Our a.m. and p.m. walks with Mr. Waggles the Doberman really are a joy. REALLY. But since we get up at 5 a.m., scoop his droppings and also feed him spendy kibble, is it too much to ask that he give back? Umbra’s new Doggie Barrel Bag Holder ($6, Umbra.com) hangs from any pup’s collar and holds canine-sized trash bags. Still, we’re unclear whether it’ll inspire Waggles to act heroically, like one of those life-saving Saint Bernards who carried similar-looking barrels full of brandy through the Alps.

Armed Guard: Socialites and bloggers who accept fancy free stuff stack their wrists with designer bracelets by Hermes, Gucci and pals. Those who must pay rent or keep journalistic ethics intact can snag Leigh-elena’s enamel-leather cuffs, just in at Ginger (7114 Bethesda Lane, Bethesda; 301-664-924). Styles include a wide model (below, $125) and a double-wrap bracelet ($105), which come in eye-popping (not wallet-busting) hides such as orange stingray or green snake.

Smooth Fairy: Though BB cream sounds like a remedy for shooting range injuries, it’s actually a new breed of super-moisturizer with sunscreen, vitamin C, alpha hydroxy acids and skin-smoothing tint. Garnier’s cream ($13, drugstores), which just arrived in the U.S., is among the cheapest. We liked how it brightened our sallow visage, but we didn’t enjoy its mildly Febreze-like scent.

That’s Just Stick: In the epoch before pinterest, people used to thumbtack photos, tickets and other inspiring junk to actual bulletin boards. Pottery Barn Teen revives that old-school concept with its Vintage Frame Pinboard ($69, Pbteen.com), a cloth-covered canvas decorated with a retro design. But to incessantly share the recipe you’re fixing this weekend/photos of your new ballet flats/cute wittle puppy quotes, you’ll also have to get equally old-fashioned and invite people over.

The heroines of Brit chick-lit goddess Sophie Kinsella overbuy at Barneys, suffer from spates of amnesia and are forever messing up at work. Yet this doesn’t keep them from finding romance — or Kinsella, creator of the “Confessions of a Shopaholic” series, from selling books. Her latest novel, “I’ve Got Your Number” ($25, Dial Press), centers on a lost engagement ring and a misplaced cell phone.

Your heroines have flaws, but people love them. Why?
Personally, when I read books about women who fly around the world, have amazing sex and buy up companies, I never relate. I try to write heroines that we relate to. You empathize with people when you feel sorry for them or feel like you’ve been in their place.

In “I’ve Got Your Number,” the heroine picks up a stranger’s phone, and it changes her life. What made you choose this plot?
I wrote it because I find technology fascinating. We invest such emotional life in it now. My starting point was that you store everything in this tiny device; it becomes like the key to your life.

What’s your own relationship with tech like?
It’s love-hate. I’d love it if we all wrote to each other with quill pens, yet I find myself addicted to IM and email.

And the book also talks about — gasp — a lost engagement ring?
I did that because I wanted Poppy, the main character, to be in an absolute frenzy at the beginning of the book. I was also thinking about when Prince William and Kate Middleton got engaged. I thought, “Golly, how can you walk around with this ring that’s worth a packet and has so much history?”

The book also features a lot of wedding planning. Why do women like to read about that?
I think for a lot of girls, the buildup to the wedding is almost more joyful than the wedding itself. People love to wallow in the details.

Your most famous character, Becky Bloomwood Brandon, is a shopaholic. Is she based on you?
Bits of me are Becky, but she does things that no one ever would do in real life.

So where do you shop in real life?
I’m very fond of Selfridges and Liberty. Liberty has a great fashion and history. In the States, I love Anthropologie. Everything smells great and looks beautiful there.

Even though your heroines mess up, they usually get a happy ending. Why?
I think readers want a satisfying ending, but not necessarily one with all the knots tied up. I like to leave heroines in a position where the future isn’t all wrapped up.

Which authors inspire you?
Jane Austen is my inspiration. She’s such a wit, so funny and romantic. She loves a flawed heroine as much as I do.

Reese Witherspoon, why do you do this to me? I do not understand. I mean, I get that you have a mortgage and some kids, and that everyone likes money, but you seem to have forgotten that you are a really, really good actor.

To be fair, I haven’t seen “This Means War,” which opens Friday. Maybe it’s amazing. Anything is possible. But the past five or six years — since you won the Oscar for “Walk the Line” — have not been promising. You’ve done movies no one saw (like “Rendition” and “Penelope”), and the movies that people did see were not good (like “Four Christmases,” “Water for Elephants” and the absolutely terrible “How Do You Know”). Leave crap like that to Katherine Heigl. Seriously, Reese, you have to start making better choices.

Here’s what you should do: Go back to Alexander Payne, who directed you in your best performance to date: as Tracy Flick in “Election.” Ask to be a part of his next movie — you know he’ll have one because “The Descendants” did relatively well. If he doesn’t have a part for you, ask to do something else, like maybe cater the production. Hitch your wagon to him, because he writes complex, funny parts for women, and those are what you do best. Hold out for those. You might have to work less. But it’ll be OK, because the work you will do will make you proud.

Dear Friends of the Giant Fiberglass Pineapple Overlooking I-95: Stop writing us letters! We would love to write 270 words about your fruit, only we haven’t the time. But you raise a good point: Express will never address more than a tiny fraction of our area’s unseen sites. These apps cover what we won’t.

Roadside America ($2.99, iPhone only)
If there’s a big version of a smaller thing, it’s listed. (The fiberglass pineapple is real, and in Baltimore.) Is it morbid in design, content or both? That’s Roadside’s favorite kind of attraction, leading to a high density of graves and religious sites. (The replica Roman catacombs in Northeast hit all the sweet spots.) Local users will encounter the 12-foot-wide, four-story Arlington Skinny House (711 N. Barton St.); the One-Time World’s Largest Chair, in Anacostia; and the Victims of Communism Memorial, in Capitol Hill. The Roadside Americans just released “Roadside Presidents” ($2.99), with points of interest such as “Where President Ford Lived for His First 10 Days as President.”

It Happened Here ($2.99, iPhone and Android)
IHH catalogs landmark events that are more conversation starters than destinations: The Ritz-Carlton hotel bar in Pentagon City, where Monica Lewinsky told a bugged Linda Tripp about her affair; places where scenes from movies (“Salt,” “Minority Report” and others) were filmed; the suburban Marshalls where former Congressman John Jenrette stole shoes in 1988. IHH also likes morbid, and some may consider it tasteless to include Beltway sniper shooting locations.

NPS National Mall (free, iPhone and Android)
Surely Smithsonian-bound tourists would gladly detour to see the plaque on Ohio Drive SW commemorating the 1918 launch of U.S. Airmail, or to admire neglected Founding Father George Mason, whose bronze effigy chillaxes in West Potomac Park. If not, the National Park Service’s app is plenty useful on the Mall proper, identifying the German-American Friendship Garden, the John Paul Jones Memorial and the future site of the Dwight D. Eisenhower Memorial.

Jackson Pollock, shown with one of his paintings in 1952, spent his later years on Long Island.

“Just a few lines to tell you that my seven year old son Manning couldn’t get over your picture Number Nine,” begins a 1949 letter to Jackson Pollock, America’s best-loved abstract impressionist, known for his paint-splattered canvases. “Frankly, it looked like some of his finger painting at school to me. He insisted that I write you to tell you that he cut it out of the ‘Life’ and put it in his scrapbook.”

The note, written by Helen K. Sellers of Charleston, S.C. (and accompanied by a photo of Manning holding his cocker spaniel, Snafu), made it into Pollock’s personal papers. Apparently saved for posterity, the letter now has a much wider audience as part of the “Memories Arrested in Space” exhibit at the Smithsonian’s Archives of American Art (inside the Donald W. Reynolds Center for American Art and Portraiture), a tribute marking the centennial of Pollock’s birth.

“This is not really about looking at his art; it’s about looking at his life,” says Helen A. Harrison, director of the Pollock-Krasner House and Study Center in East Hampton, N.Y., who guest-curated the show. “The mythic side of Pollock is reduced to a very flat portrait. But he was much more well-rounded.”

“Memories” includes photos, letters and other important documents of Pollock’s. Many of the items counter his commonly known persona as a serious, macho Westerner. (In fact, Pollock moved east when he was 18.) One contact sheet of photos shows him holding his pet crow, Caw-Caw; in others, he’s posed casually with family and friends. “I think it might surprise people to know that he smiled,” Harrison says.

Pollock’s career was short: Only 12 years elapsed between his first solo show and his last. He died in 1956 at the age of 44 in a car crash. “Memories” covers his entire life, from his California childhood to his New York City years to his struggles with depression and alcoholism. Examples of his correspondence with art dealers Peggy Guggenheim and Betty Parsons are on display, as is a 1949 issue of Life that contained the first color review of Pollock’s work. “He was such a great story for the media. They could call him Jack the Dripper,” says Mary Savig, an archives specialist at the Smithsonian’s Archives of American Art.

Even after his death, “Pollock was a lightning rod,” Savig says, causing some, like Sellers, to second-guess their definition of art. It looks like her son had the last laugh.

Backstory
The show takes its name from a few lines Jackson Pollock jotted on the back of a photograph of himself at work, in which he emphasizes that his compositions aren’t accidental. “It’s very poetic for Jackson Pollock,” says Liza Kirwin, acting director of the Smithsonian’s Archives of American Art.