Word: clicks
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Cradled in the crook of his arm or clutched tightly in his palm, the camera is his constant companion. At any instant, any place, Henri Cartier-Bresson may suddenly lift his battered Leica to eye level, click the shutter and return instantly to whatever he was doing before what he calls "the decisive moment." Capturing such moments-usually joy, sadness, love, a memory reflected in a face or posture-has been Cartier-Bresson's life and profession for more than three decades. He has become the master of the documentary photograph...
...often written in totally unstructured form, and much trivial verse, especially classical verse, has survived because of the beauty of its structure. A poem without structure, on a trivial theme, has no hope from the beginning. Thus, the first half of a poem from this volume: "dicketydicketydick / dicketydicketydick / click / priorities goals directions / smile solemnly see direction A / click / great country endeavor great leadership / inspirational fist follow fig. 2 / click / . . . " Such a poem, lacking content and a cohesive style, is hardly a poem at all. It depends for its survival, not on intrinsic merit of interest, but on currency. It makes...
...years since Thomas Alva Edison inaugurated the nation's first steam-electric power station in lower Manhattan, the U.S. has become extraordinarily dependent on electricity. Americans now take for granted the busy computers that click in offices, the lights that blaze all night in poultry farms, the sensitive machines that monitor patients in hospitals. The average U.S. household contains 16 electrical appliances. But the day may come when people casually flip a switch or lift a receiver-and nothing will happen...
Others told of being subjected to a mock execution just before they left Brazil. They were herded into the courtyard of their jail, blindfolded, lined up against a wall, and asked if they had any last wishes. Only after they heard the metallic click of bullets being loaded into the rifles of a firing squad were they put into vehicles by laughing policemen and taken to Rio's international airport for the flight to Algiers...
...Zubin Mehta, the temptation was irresistible. Vacationing with his wife in northern Kenya, the Los Angeles Philharmonic's conductor was treated to a native concert by members of the Turkana tribe. Mehta listened intently to the rhythm: the click of bottle-cap anklets on wildly swinging legs, the imperious clatter of bamboo sticks, the thunderclap of hands, the keening from scores of female throats. Then, having convinced himself that he had picked up the beat, he raised his practiced arm and for a few fascinating measures conducted some of the world's oldest and most primitive music...