Word: lager
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Watching the show these days is a wearying experience. Ellen leafing through the Gay Yellow Pages: "Check out the abs on that mortician." A friend of Ellen's opening a bottle of Fire Island Lager and reading the cap: "I'm a winner! Two free tickets to Lord of the Dance!" The writers have decided to find humor in gay stereotypes, but there is something brittle and off-putting about this. While that strategy may work in the movie In & Out, Ellen seems to be reaching for a campiness that doesn't suit it. Those flaws aside, the real problem...
...slits in the board..." A few pages and generations later, a young American black man, well dressed, we assume, money in his pocket, we assume, watches poor blacks in the Caribbean and thinks, "I wanted a connection to these people, wanted to share pots of curried goat and warm lager in Trenchertown because I was one of them." Imagining: "Black people gonna rise up." Knowing sheepishly: "The whole time just an advertising executive on vacation...
...lost interest in most new European art; the New York School pushed it off the radar screen, and it apparently lost the mandate of art history. The new, swelling museum culture in the U.S. tended to ignore it. In the early 1950s the prewar masters remained-Picasso, Matisse, Braque, Lager, Miro-but who was going to pay much attention to insipid French abstractionists like Hans Hartung or Alfred Manessier in the face of what Jackson Pollock or Willem de Kooning were doing...
...Lager too still aspired to make a positivist art about modern life based on classical principles. A whole range of artists, from Piero della Francesca to Manet, are implicit in his image in praise of skilled labor, The Constructors, 1950. Perhaps the show's most moving and nuanced postwar tribute to sculpture's classical past is Henri Laurens' Morning, 1944. A bronze woman awakening: it ought to be an idyllic image. But it is not, because the massive post-Cubist forms of her limbs suggest stress, a heavy, invisible load to which the energy locked in the figure responds...
...baseball game in our floor's common room. A guy I knew from down the hall was just leaving; he told me he'd left a few beers in the fridge after a party, and I was welcome to them. I sat and listened. The cold Kokanee Lager cooed to me lovingly, while legions of health teachers screamed back a volley of catcalls. "Don't drink alone!" they shrieked. I didn...