Word: paleness
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More evil followed. Ancient Africa was home to white people as well, but they were driven out because their pitifully pale skins could not protect them from the blazing heat and light ("The white man," Miss Lissie notes, "worships gold because it is the sun he has lost"). Thus was conceived whites' envy of blacks and a determination to crush them, a process that began, at least symbolically, in Greek mythology when Perseus beheaded Medusa, who was really the Great Mother, the Black African Goddess...
...session in Mapplethorpe's loft lasted only about an hour, but it filled the studio with powerful, unspoken emotions. Koop, a strapping man in uniform, seemed the epitome of physical strength. Mapplethorpe, pale, coughing and looking emaciated, moved about in obvious pain as he worked. "It was a poignant experience to have my picture taken by a man dying of a disease that I've spent so much time trying to educate the public about," recalls Koop...
...pale gray eyes ask for empathy. "See, I don't have that in me anymore. When my dad got killed, you know, I could stick a gun in somebody's head and not shake and think about it. I can't do that anymore, so I'm getting out. I've got money put aside...
...melancholy, or, in the area of abstraction, Erick Stenberg. In the 1960s and '70s, Stenberg's work was a prolonged meditation on constructivism and suprematism, the chief movements of the "classical" Russian avant-garde in the years just before and after the revolution: finely tuned planar constructions in a pale, deep space. Lately, in a way that parallels Malevich's return to peasant themes in the 1920s, Stenberg has deepened his color and turned to images of a remote village where he spends part of his time: bare roads, cottages, grave markers, religious symbols like the fish and the Cross...
...Cyclone fence and metal bars encircle the stage. Like a caged animal, a slender young woman in black paces back and forth. Suddenly, she rattles the prison door, her pale features exposed by the spotlight. "Three hundred forty-nine days! Three hundred forty-nine days!" she screams. "Bite on your hat, anything to keep from sobbing!" Few in the audience at Moscow's Sovremennik Theater stifle the emotion inspired by such searing scenes from Eugenia Ginzburg's memoirs of the Gulag, Journey into the Whirlwind. An innocent victim of the Stalinist purges, the heroine endures humiliating interrogations, strip searches...