Word: caf
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...nations in a single setting. Along Rabat's fashionable Avenue Mohammed V, Moroccan businessmen chatted and soaked up the warm winter sun at the outdoor cafés, and young women scurried across the capital's Place des Alaouites to their mid-morning appointments. At a major intersection a few yards away were contingents of police outfitted with full riot gear and swinging batons at their sides. Pointing to other men in civilian clothes lingering near by, a taxi driver mused aloud, "Undercover officers. They've been here since Saturday, following 'the Troubles...
...also relate to passing times. Dallas was "America's team" as the country went western and cactus came to flower, when the majority of Charlie's Angels hailed from Texas, like the trashiest pulp novels and soap operas, and Easterners put up their own Lone Star cafés for two-stepping in boots and Stetsons...
...young outsiders, reacting to the pervasive, ephemeral surface of Parisian culture with puns and gossip, the arcane jokey language of their own group. As a former cartoonist, Gris delighted in this "Pop" view of his tunes, and it suffuses some of his best paintings. The Man at the Café, 1914, looks at first like a conventional cubist figure, the clues to its presence being the hat, the blue hand holding a newspaper, and the stein of beer with its " white froth. But if one reads the glued-on newspaper he is reading, the main story turns...
...Gris' mind, this duality was part of the ever active debate over what was true and what false in cubist representation, where fragments of the real world (including the news) combined with unreal space. To complicate things further, the man at the café-melting away, like the elusive Pimpernel, into the wood work-probably depicts Gris' favorite character pulp fiction. He was a supercrook named Fantómas, whose nefarious deeds were eagerly devoured by Picasso, Apollinaire and everyone in the cubist circle. Appearing and disappearing at will, frustrating the law at every turn, Fant...
...same role. For Luis Buñuel, the Spanish film maker who died this July at 83, conventions of content and form were mere pieties, best approached with a straight razor and a straight face. He had been, after all, one of the merry pranksters of surrealism, spiking café chat in bohemian Paris with cute conspiracies like sneaking a pornographic movie into a children's matinee. Back in the 1920s, the aesthetics of atrocity had worthy, powerful antagonists: the church, the government, the standard of fettered sexuality. Too soon though, the bad-taste revolution proved successful, and today...