Word: fleshed
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...political Shaw bombinates in the wings: "Socialism without compulsory labor and ruthless penalization of idleness and exploitation is nothing but a hopeless confusion of Socialism with Liberalism." And the vegetarian is never far away: "I do not eat flesh, fish or fowl . . . You can be Sancho Panza on any food provided there is enough of it. If you want to be Pythagoras, you have to be more careful...
...WELL TRAINED as the group is, we should remember the Delta Force is made up of fallible humans who, without the magic of Hollywood special effects, are only so much flesh and blood...
...with the arrival of talking pictures in the late 1920s. Hollywood saw the Babel of exotic accents as one more earnest of its cosmopolitan reach. And so Maurice Chevalier and Charles Boyer brought their suavity from France; Marlene Dietrich (Germany), Hedy Lamarr (Austria) and Ingrid Bergman (Sweden) helped Garbo flesh out the fantasy of the European woman. From south of the border Carmen Miranda brought her fruity headdresses, Gilbert Roland his purring machismo. Half of England, it seemed, played cricket every Sunday in Griffith Park. And with bitter thanks to Adolf Hitler, Hollywood welcomed hundreds of refugees from the Third...
...triptychs, when Bacon decisively abandoned the "spectral," scumbled evocations of the face used in his Popes and caged businessmen, his figures had begun to embody an immense plastic power. Sometimes these creatures, knotted in contrapposto, seem desperately mannered; but there are other moments when the smearing and knotting of flesh, not so much depicted as reconstituted in the fatty whorls and runs of paint, take on a tragic density closer to Michelangelo than to modernism. Among those artists who, in the past century, have tried to represent the inwardness of the body, Bacon holds a high place, along with Schiele...
...painting (like the back of the chair in the picture within a picture to the left). The truth is that the Bacon one sees this time at the Tate has much more in common with old masters than with contemporary painting. The paint acquires a wonderful plenitude in becoming flesh. One thinks of the coruscated light, the Venetian red interstitial drawing, in Tintoretto. This kind of paint surface is part of the work of delivering sensations, not propositions, and it is neither idly sumptuous nor "ironically" sexy. But the one thing it cannot reliably do is fix the extreme disjuncture...