Word: kinds
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...influences besides Benton converged on him as well: the Mexican muralists of the '30s, especially Siquieros and Orozco; Picasso; Surrealism; Kandinsky; tribal art. As Varnedoe points out in his admirable catalog essay, if the notion that Pollock was some sort of cowboy isn't true, neither was he any kind of Indian. He'd seen Native American ceremonies and pictographs as a kid in Arizona, but his attachment to Indian art as a source of "primitive" authenticity came from museums and exhibitions in New York and was confirmed by other mentors he was acquiring, such as the painter John Graham...
...they remind you how Pollock, whom we tend to think of as a web-weaving, linear artist, was also a real colorist, idiosyncratic and original. There is something vulgar about the palette of Blue Poles, with its giddy dance of aluminum paint and hot orange, but it is the kind of vulgarity that fairly seethes with life...
...could argue that popular culture's pandering to the young is a kind of dumbed-down reflection of the higher arts' 20th century fixation on the avant-garde. One could especially argue the point if one were looking for a serviceable transition to a discussion of last week's news that the Museum of Modern Art in New York City had to give up four highly esteemed drawings because they are no longer considered "modern." This is due to a quirk in the will of Abby Aldrich Rockefeller, a co-founder of the museum and the donor of the drawings...
...need a "jumbo" mortgage (a loan amount higher than $227,150), rates may not have moved low enough. Today, a 30-year fixed jumbo rate is about 7.25%, vs. only 6.75% for smaller mortgages. (I'm not convinced, by the way, that risks to lenders warrant that kind of premium. And with home values rising, the all-powerful, government-supported mortgage buyers, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, should set the jumbo threshold higher...
...kind of father who believes in videotaping his children's every last sneeze. I don't even own a video camera. I borrow one now and then to record choice events, like last weekend when toddler Clementine finally deigned to take her first E.T.-like steps. But this time, rather than record 90 minutes of raw, uncut video--which, let's not pull any sentimental punches here, would be unwatchable beyond the first two minutes--I decided to make a real movie. I had in mind something that was edited--with transitions, a sound track and a voice-over; something...