Word: clay
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...past four centuries. The so- called Santa Fe look, romanced into the mainstream by Ralph Lauren, has turned into the hottest design fad in years. "People naturally want to return to the earth," explains Rachel Elizondo, owner of Santa Fe's Storyteller gallery, a mecca for decorators. "A clay pot built by hand in natural colors is a living thing...
...from a middle-class background and be a real good boxer. But you have to know struggle to be the champ." Without socks, robe or orchestra, wearing headgear as spare as a World War I aviator's, Tyson hurries out to demonstrate his point against an unsteady corps of clay pigeons with perfect names like Michael ("the Bounty") Hunter and Rufus ("Hurricane") Hadley. The slippery leather thuds reverberate through the hall...
Works like Ouranos are infused with a sense of primal material under the stress of becoming, a mass raising itself up into consciousness even as gravity drags it down. You think of Genesis and the lump of clay just on the point of turning into Adam (the first sculpture of all). A little less thought, less work, and they would only be lumps. Tucker had taken a long look at Rodin, and it shows everywhere on his bronzes. The heavings and incrustations of their skins are, in fact, exquisitely organized to carry the eye around the form and leave...
...himself as a Texas-bred boy. His family has lived in Texas for eight generations and he very attached to San Antonio. A city where Mexican and American culture are closely integrated, San Antonio is bigger than a small town but without a big city's alienation. Explains Logue, "Clay is really tied to all that...
...crosses the line into arrogant rock stardom, and it is difficult to reconcile that image with that of the boy from San Antonio, Texas. Logue--who has lived with Tarver for three years--recalls the first time they met freshman year. "I was sitting outside playing my guitar, when Clay came and took it from me, without saying anything, and started to play. I looked at him and said, `That's pretty good, Clyde,' (that's what I thought his name was). He looked back, sneered and said, `My name is Clay.' I said, `Give me back my fucking guitar...