Word: nosed
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...white. This form alone, in its insistence on turning negative space into positive space, implies the underlying concept of dialectical racial identities. Walker establishes a visual language that bluntly indicates the race of each silhouetted figure. White figures are marked by a few pointed wisps of hair, a straight nose, and thin lips. Silhouettes of black figures are cut with rounded bumps for hair, or twisted plaits, with rounded noses, and large, often open-hanging lips. The figures look like neither real people nor caricatures, but like characters in some Southern plantation novel that takes itself quite seriously. The silhouette...
...appearance. Perhaps, she is unaware of her second head. More likely, considering her posture, she is proud to have garnished a European head, and is unaware of her deformity. Even more disconcerting, perhaps she acknowledges her deformity, and considers it a small price to pay for the hair, nose and lips that she has always wanted...
Take for example the image of a young black girl lording over a kneeling woman, possibly her mistress. The girl appears to be pinching the woman's nose while holding some knife or saw to her throat. The characters are so finely drawn that we can make out the contour of the girl's toenail, but though we see one foot we're unsure of where the other falls. Similarly, we can't determine the relationship of blade to neck, the difference between "grazing" and "penetrating" so important to the woman's life and our understanding. These spatial contiguities...
...Shuger's opinion of the media's Monica coverage: "The press is in a big respectability-puffing, nose-holding phase in its reporting of the Clinton sex scandals, deploring--in exquisite detail--having to cover all that executive branch breastage and groinage...
...guns began to scratch the heavens with fire. We were hedgehopping, coming directly out of the moonlight. Every Japanese gunner seemed to get the bead on our bombing run as we skimmed low. The tracers' red, blazing prongs of light flashed by our windows. I was up in the nose with the squadron bombardier, Lieut. George Stout, and it seemed as if we were darting through a corridor of flaming sheaves...