Ogden Museum Of Southern Art

It's battered but unbowed, this old brick museum. Even besieged by clamor and dust, even as ownership squabbles threaten to kick hundreds of Civil War artifacts to the curb. No matter. "The Confederate Museum IS OPEN," defiant block letters announce. And for now, it is. War buffs, Confederate enthusiasts and plain old curiosity cruisers still pay their 5 bucks to prowl among the glass cases of Louisiana's oldest museum.

For years, the South has been celebrated as a wellspring of American music and literature. But wide recognition of its visual arts has been restricted largely to crafts or the work of self-taught naive artists.

For years, the South has been celebrated as a wellspring of American music and literature. But wide recognition of its visual arts has been restricted largely to crafts or the work of self-taught naive artists.

It's battered but unbowed, this old brick museum. Even besieged by clamor and dust, even as ownership squabbles threaten to kick hundreds of Civil War artifacts to the curb. No matter. "The Confederate Museum IS OPEN," defiant block letters announce. And for now, it is. War buffs, Confederate enthusiasts and plain old curiosity cruisers still pay their 5 bucks to prowl among the glass cases of Louisiana's oldest museum.

A $1.9-million lawsuit against New Orleans' new museum of southern art has accused its founder of using taxpayer money to build a private museum on public land, sidestepping the state's conflict-of-interest laws and illegally naming it after himself. The suit, filed in Baton Rouge by five New Orleans-area residents, accuses Roger Ogden, founder of the Ogden Museum of Southern Art, of using his position as a member of the LSU Board of Supervisors to influence the approval of the museum.

Benny Andrews, a painter and teacher whose work drew on memories of his childhood in the segregated South, died Friday of cancer at his home in Brooklyn, N.Y., his wife, Nene Humphrey, said. He was 75. Andrews painted socially conscious works that addressed issues such as the civil rights movement, the Holocaust and the forced relocation of Native Americans.

Herman Leonard, a photographer best known for his iconic images of such jazz greats as Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington and Miles Davis, has died. He was 87. Leonard died Saturday at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, a family spokeswoman said. No cause was given. He had been living in Los Angeles since Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans in 2005, flooding his home and destroying thousands of prints. Leonard became famous for the smoky, backlighted black-and-white photos he took in dark jazz clubs beginning in the late 1940s.

The Hollywood Bowl is empty when Terence Blanchard lifts his horn. It's a Wednesday afternoon, and this is the final rehearsal for a tribute concert to trumpeter Miles Davis and arranger Gil Evans set to take place later in the evening. Blanchard requires no audience for this moment. He just closes his eyes to blow. The songs immediately in front of him and a 20-piece jazz orchestra are from a 1958 recording of Gershwin's "Porgy and Bess," one of the many Davis-Evans collaborations Blanchard studied obsessively as a young horn player in New Orleans.

As the floodwaters recede in New Orleans and disaster relief agencies help thousands of people cope with the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, a glimmer of hope is emerging from museums and other cultural organizations along the Gulf Coast. Some institutions suffered severe damage, but many seem to have come through the colossal storm in relatively good shape.

The high-speed Chunnel train that runs from London to Paris and Brussels is getting cheaper and even faster. New track on the English side is scheduled to open Sept. 28, shaving about 20 minutes off the journey. The London-Paris one-way trip will take two hours, 35 minutes, and London-Brussels will take two hours, 20 minutes.

New Orleans Day had faded into dusk and dusk into dark when we reached Pirate's Alley, a narrow, cobblestone walkway in the French Quarter. Flickering gas lamps and a pale quarter-moon cast dancing shadows on the walls of the 200-year-old buildings around us. "This garden was the site of many French duels," the guide said, motioning toward a courtyard. Our little tour group turned on cue, straining to see through the ironwork fence.

Roger Houston Ogden once dreamed of being governor of Louisiana. Instead, the wealthy developer built his legacy behind the ornate doors of his white-columned, upper Audubon district mansion, where he amassed one of the largest collections of Southern art in the world. When city leaders cut the ribbon in August at the multitiered $21-million Ogden Museum of Southern Art on Camp Street, Ogden's ambition to publicly serve his native South was realized.