Word: characterlessness
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...anonymity, his "small perfectly round gold-rimmed spectacles, his two ill-fitting suits of black serge, his black turtleneck shirts, his pointed shoes that were always worn at the heels and covered with a faint dusting of powdered concrete from the walls of unfinished buildings ..." Vost dwells in a characterless (and imaginary) European town, works as "a mere clerk in a dismal pharmacy" and plays doting father to his teen-age daughter Mirabelle. Two other women dominate his thoughts: his late wife Claire and his mother Eva, an inmate of La Violaine, the town's prison for women...
Cunningham's dances are by no means characterless, either. Characters develop intrinsically within the framework of the dance rather than by external predefinition. Individual Cunningham works reflect a wide range of moods from the disturbing power of "Winterbranch" to the high-spirited kookiness of "Antic Meet" to the hints of loneliness and entrapment in "Place." Cunningham's work turns out to be not so much a denial of meaning as a trust in implicit meaning and in individual perception...
...Instant Breakfast, raised on Tastycakes and Big Macs, and disciplined by the threat of "no dimes for a Dairy Queen." Our "gourmet" restaurants serve prepackaged, precooked Lobster Thermidor. Our cookbooks are compendiums of corporate-test-kitchen press releases. And the average sugar consumption in America--mostly of the refined, characterless variety--is one-third of a pound per day per American, which is more of this "poor nutrient," say the Hesses, than any society in history has ever consumed. And the reason? "Americans are starved for flavor...
...Worry Me" is a stirring cry of survival, or the horrible chant of a wired mass for whom murder doesn't matter. Or a million other things, but the cookbook crowd tried frantically to answer this question, because the only anchor they could find in this plotless, characterless, messageless mass was that Nashville was about "America." America is very big this summer, maybe, but it's a frustrating theme for people accustomed to motion pictures telling them what to think. They find themselves babbling absurdly when they try to talk about it, often because they can't face what...
...become more and more ephemeral and mass-denying. It turned into a matter of open steel constructions, more air than metal; painted surfaces that repress one's sense of material; cool machine-made boxes, metal tiles or bricks laid flat on the floor, anodized glass cubes and characterless Formica skins. To the extent that sculpture can get away from its primordial conditions of weight, thickness, opacity and immobility, it did so in the '60s, and often with an annoyingly academic self-righteousness. Nevertheless, a few of the best sculptors of the time, like Mark di Suvero and Richard...