Word: flower
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...about nostalgia, Barron says, for lint is nostalgic. It is about the fragility of life, and disintegration and death. And yet on the surface it has "the soft look of impressionism." One imagines a sort of shaggy Monet's Flower Garden, done in dust balls...
From old photographs, Barron chronicled her family with lint portraits, and the results in some instances are haunting. Stand back, and there is a vibrant wedding party, the artist in the middle as a young flower girl; look close, and there is a jungle of fibers that came from the cuffs on your least favorite trousers. She has done four studies of her aged mother, who has been ravaged by Alzheimer's disease. In one there is a woman toddling along in a jogging suit, and in another there is a bent-down crone who has lost her mind...
...bring this country peace," Somoza I was reported to have said, "if I have to kill every other man in Nicaragua." Somoza I was followed by Somoza II and III, all supported politically and financially by the United States. The dynasty reached its fullest flower with Somoza III, who sold everything he could find in Nicaragua, including the blood of his fellow citizens, to the United States. The Somozas persevered until they were overthrown by Sandino's spiritual successors, the Sandinistas...
...musical adaptation, My Fair Lady. Fans seeking a reprise of that winsome performance here will find far more of the imperious exterior with far less of the twinkly sugar daddy beneath. In O'Toole's view, the play is only outwardly about the civilizing of the street- corner flower seller Eliza Doolittle, who learns from " 'iggins" the speech and manner of a duchess. Underneath, he says, the play is about taming Higgins, a knowing product of the world of decorum and privilege who has never envisioned a place in it for himself. Perhaps the key line of dialogue is Higgins...
...well-mannered; the first thing they asked for when they disembarked was milk. Half the earth's races huddled together in picturesque, cheek-by-jowl harmony. The subways, "awful and astonishing in about equal measure," cost only a nickel to ride. Grover Whalen, a flamboyant Irishman with a flower in his lapel, was glad-handing the visiting firemen as the city's official greeter, while saturnine Robert Moses, the master builder, was sundering neighborhoods in the name of progress. The cafe-society swells watered at El Morocco or the Stork Club, and the punters headed for Toots Shor's, mindful...