Word: fawned
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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Seldom has a tyrant been so absolute or cruel that he could not find some major artist, a Rubens or a Titian, a Velasquez or a Bernini, to fawn on him for a suitable fee. It is the nature of carnivores to get power, at which point, having disposed of their enemies, they deploy the emollient powers of Great Art to make them look like herbivores. Stalinist socialist realism was merely the end of this process, carried out by hacks. After it, the more intelligent of the Beloved Leaders would want radio and TV, not painting, to be their cosmeticians...
...graced the stage as a sailor, a fawn, a prince, a cowboy and a Greek god. But if anything is going to keep New York City Ballet Star Edward Villella, 45, on his toes, it will be his current role as Visiting Artist at West Point. During one recent appearance on campus, Villella surveyed an aerobic dance class from the sidelines, then took the cadets through the same motions, ballet-style. "They were skeptical at first," says Edward, "but after a while everybody loosened up. Even the plebes were laughing...
...program's SCTV satellite net work. Its production offices are located between an H&R Block tax center and a nuclear-waste disposal dump. SCTV President Guy Caballero, a sleazebag in a modified Panama and a white three-piece blend, appears frequently on-camera to bilk, berate or fawn before his audience. Un like one former President of the U.S., who did not like to be photo graphed in his wheelchair, President Caballero will not show up in public without his. He has no physical need for it, understand; he merely finds it useful for inviting viewer pity...
Beside her, on legs that were just learning their business, was a spotted fawn, as small and perfect as a trinket seen through a reducing glass. They stood there, mother and child, under a gray bench whose trunk was engraved with dozens of hearts and initials. Stretched on the ground was another fawn, and I realized that the doe had just finished twinning. The second fawn was still wet, still unrisen. Here was a scene of rare sylvan splendor, in one of my five favorite boroughs, and I couldn't have asked for more...
...wonderful opening sentence--an artful ramble redolent of neurosis--to Fish's oddly inspirational conclusion, Engel works with remarkable control. He tells us enough about the characters, but does not burden us with more than what Harry Karp would wish to say. He savors details but doesn't fawn on them...