Word: art
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Onisimov, Stephen P. Laverty, Terry Keister, Paul Easton, Bob Mac-Pherson, Elizabeth M. Harvey, Phyllis MacEwan, Rob Riordan, Jerry Loev, Susan Volman, Alan Zaslavsky, Alan Rubin, Anthony Giachetti, Leslie Lessinger, Jonathan Buchabaum, Marshall B. Crawford, Carl Pomerance, Melissa A. Brown, Jon Livingston, David T. Johnson, Richard Kornbluth, Lois Kessin, Art Small, Ron Capling, Reid Minot, Ellen Messing, S. David Finkelhor, Han Bennett, David D. Patterson, Maren K. Hill, Sheila Sondik, John Barzman, S. Mark Burr, Gregory K. Pilkington, Michael Kazin, Henry Norr, Elizabeth Stanley, Bonnie Britt, Michael L. Mavroidis, David Ahane...
...excell, as if they were key-note speaker, first of the twenty first-ballerinas in the act, all original or at least in person. . ." Of Clytemnestra, "Orestes, the lord of murder and proportion, saw that the tips of her nipples had touched her toes--a population problem and bad art." Of civilization, power, and Caracas, "through another of our cities without a center, as hideous as Los Angeles, and with as many cars per head, and past the 20-foot neon sign for Coppertone on a Church. . .on to the White House of El Presidente Leoni, his small men with...
Sense Robbery. A placid, pawky art dealer, Sir Edward More (Nicol Williamson) is abruptly seized with an uncontrollable passion. Its object is Margot (Anna Karina), usherette in a London cinema. Gutted by desire, Sir Edward cannot be home with his wife and child for more than a minute before lunging for the doorway and heading back to the moviehouse. There he gropes through a guffawing audience for yet another glimpse of the girl. At last an assignation is arranged, an agreement extracted. In scenes of purest Feydeau farce, Sir Edward pursues Margot in and out of hallways and bedrooms split...
Robert Pharr's prose often clumps along awkwardly, and his construction sometimes creaks. His art is at its apparently artless best when he simply shows the reader the teeming, sensual, violent ghetto, letting the vernacular of the streets crackle through his pages...
...writer. She is guilty of self-censoring the matter and treatment of her work in order not to embarrass her family or jeopardize her suburban status. She vows that in the future she will make use of hate, envy, lust and fear. But for a woman who believes that art is condensed reality in the way that concentrated orange juice is the essence of a healthy breakfast drink, such a midyear's resolution will scarcely be enough...