Word: hoods
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...hear President Bok and his boys like to play borderline ball," Swanson said yesterday during his daily workout at Hifzi's Garage. "Well, in my 'hood, we feel that ceaseless agitation and uncertainty distinguish the bourgeols era from all others. We don't wear neckties, but we're definitely in a class at once above and below the filthy Junkers." "All that is holy is profaned," he said...
...delicacy and the tease to contain itself as a story. There is none of the relief of such an overflow in the stories of Flannery O'Conner. The heart of her stories purrs so uniformly that one suspects it is only a machine. One lifts the hood to marvel at the mechanism. Uniform excellence, uniform inspiration. The result is that her stories differ one from the other as much as a Chrysler, Ford or Chevy differ one from the other...
...extraordinary range of banal objects, invest them with consistent metaphoric power, and turn them into near-epic images of love and death. Baudelaire once remarked of talent that it "is nothing more nor less than childhood rediscovered at will - a childhood now equipped for self-expression, with man hood's capacities and a power of anal ysis which enables it to order the mass of raw material which it has involuntarily accumulated." So with Oldenburg, whose art, for all its complexity, signals a way back to the unrepressed appetites of childhood. "Everything I do is completely original," Oldenburg wrote...
...last veteran of the American Civil War died on December 19, 1959. His name was Walter Williams and he claimed to have served as a foragemaster with the Confederate Fifth Cavalry under General John B. Hood. He survived the last Union veteran by nearly three years. Shortly before he died, he was asked about the war. "It didn't settle anything," he said...
...obsessions of child hood memory permeated De Chirico's work, and his childhood with its Levantine eccentricities might have come from Durrell's Alexandria Quartet. The son of a peripatetic Sicilian engineer, a man of fiery temperament much given to dueling, De Chirico was born in Greece and constantly moved house. "In my life," he observed in a memoir, "there is some thing fatal which makes me change addresses." The character of these years - a melancholic idyll of transience, conducted in a series of sirocco-damp villas across a classical landscape - is built into his early paintings...