His mother died in October of that same year. The naked man is not posed in the academic postures of the classical nude — instead he appears splay-footed, face upturned to receive the pale stream, earthly and supplicant. In the course of these excursions, he crashed at the Hotel Coccumello with a group of jazz musicians, painted his body red at the Beaux Arts Ball, and bathed in the fountain at Luna Park. By the end of the ’30s, after nearly a decade of fame, Wood’s star was waning. Wood titled his unpublished memoir Return From Bohemia: A Painter’s Story. According to Garwood’s biography, Wood might have taken “girls to parties and on picnics, but seemed uneasy at the prospect of being left alone with them.”