Word: artists
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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That August, the young artist-of whom an acquaintance testified that "a person more invariably gentle, kind, considerate and affectionate did not exist"-had tucked a spring-loaded knife into his pocket and gone for a walk in Cobham Park with his father, a retired chemist and seller of "fine, healthy leeches." Under the delusion that he was an avenging agent of the Egyptian god Osiris and his father a demonic envoy, Richard stabbed him. By the time Robert Dadd's gory corpse was found in the grass, the young man was on his way to Europe, planning...
Oedipus into Santa Claus-yet the fact was that Dadd, far from becoming one of those psychotic artists whose scribbles are only, or mainly, of interest to analysts, painted many of his best works in the asylum. He labored in a solitude, a vacuum of response, which might have crushed another artist. But it may be that Dadd's enforced seclusion helped sharpen the obsessive quality of his inner vision. Behind bars, time and detail never end. The evidence is up in London's Tate Gallery this summer through August: poor Dadd's first one-man show...
Once the eye gets used to the quirks and secrecies of his inimitable shorthand, it discovers how deeply regional an artist he was. His leanest years were in Paris in the early '20s when, he claimed later, he was obliged to live on dried figs and use the hallucinations caused by hunger to loosen up his imagery. Even then Miró managed to raise the money to journey back to his family village of Montroig, a community of farmers and peasant craftsmen, where he spent six months of every year...
Back in 1967 a shy young artist named Kate Millett had her first one-woman New York show. LIFE magazine ran photographs of her most striking sculptures: two-legged piano stools in boots (with socks painted to order), selling for $40 apiece. It was the kind of publicity that artists starve for. Now, in a passionately unhappy book, the same Kate Millett feels compelled to write: "As the subject of controversy I suddenly acquired significance for others just as I ceased to hold any for myself . . . no longer mine, my life grew loathsome...
...Karl Marx and the Mao Tse-tung of women's liberation. Millett describes how her "sisters" alternately pushed her into the spotlight and chastised her for being a star. While making a feminist film documentary (Three Lives) in London and New York, and trying to maintain her quiet artist's life with her Japanese husband Fumio, she had to deal with the more bizarre aspects of what she calls the movement's "fascist era." Speaking at meetings all over the country, she was assaulted by the sisters: "We want to know why you signed your book...