Word: artists
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...instance. I like perfection on a very grand scale. In a way I would like to live in a very grand place. But as in painting you make such a mess, I prefer to live in the mess with the memories and the damage." In photographs of the artist in his studio, we see the most famous English painter of his generation lurking in his lair. The camera flattens the owl-like eyes and avian nose into the mask of a pudgy child surrounded by a volcanic sludge of rubbish: the walls daubed with paint, the tables and floor buried...
...past two decades, Bacon's work has gained immeasurably in its scope of color and plasticity of drawing. With the recent triptychs and other paintings, his ambition to reinstate the human figure as a primary subject of art has been to some degree fulfilled. No other living artist can paint flesh at this pitch of intensity, in this extremity of rage, loss and voluptuousness, or with this command over pigment. His typical setting is familiar: an anonymous oval room. It has tubular furniture, somewhere between a Corbusier couch and an operating table. Sometimes a bare bulb hangs down...
...Gilbert) K. (for Keith) Chesterton's essays, he wanders the white hills of southern England. Drawing paper is at hand, but he has forgotten his pastels. Looking down, the artist enjoys a sudden epiphany. He is walking over his heart's desire: Sussex is a giant piece of chalk...
...have a little bit of everybody here," observed Acid Queen Tina Turner doubtfully, "and not everybody has soul." She spent most of the evening seated next to bugle-beaded Ann-Margret. Invitations called for "black tie or glitter funk," a dress code broad enough to bring put Pop Artist Andy Warhol ("I just wanted to see Ann-Margret"), Marion Javits, wife of Senator Jacob Javits, Actor Anthony Perkins and a sampling of transvestites, tuxedoed Hollywood agents and blue-jeaned rock freaks. The glitter blitz blared until 2 a.m., leaving Columbia Pictures with a bill of some $35,000 for food...
...trouble is, Wolfe is falling prey to the things he condemns. He's undergone a transformation, from reporter--or, if you prefer, realistic artist--to critic. Instead of producing things that everyone can appreciate and understand, he's given up his crusade against the cultural and become one of them. He's kept up the fight, of course--if anything, pieces like "The Painted Word" will make him more controversial than he ever was--but now takes it on the terms of his opponents, as if the critic's place is now more comfortable than the reporter...