Word: pans
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...finally able to escape into the quiet streets of Boston to assuage the ringing in my poor assaulted ears. Thanks to a street musician who plucked a bare tune on his banjo and soothed me with his baritone, I was relieved. Jonny Lang is no flash in the pan as a musician, but his flashy presence definitely needs some lubrication...
...Beans) and Untitled (Sausage and Potatoes), Wols takes his subjects out of our world, while retaining their physical presence (the shine of an overboiled potato, the turgid undulations of a bean's matte surface) and signifiers of the setting (the rounded edge of a table, the gleam of a pan's lid). More alive than the subjects of his portraits, the beans commune and swarm, the potatoes and sausage hold a brief rapport. He destroys the world we know these objects from and conjures another in its place. The foodstuffs occupy a distinct and independent reality: familiar, yet alien...
...finally able to escape into the quiet streets of Boston to assuage the ringing in my poor assaulted ears. Thanks to a street musician who plucked a bare tune on his banjo and soothed me with his baritone, I was relieved. Jonny Lang is no flash in the pan as a musician, but his flashy stage presence definitely needs some lubrication...
...Untitled (Sausage and Potatoes), Wols takes his subjects out of our world, while retaining their physical presence (the shine of an over boiled potato, the turgid undulations of a bean's matte surface) and signifiers of the setting (the rounded edge of a table, the gleam of a pan's lid). More alive than the subjects of his portraits, the beans commune and swarm, the potatoes and sausage hold a brief rapport. He destroys the world we know these objects from and conjures another in its place. The foodstuffs occupy a distinct and independent reality: familiar, yet alien...
Chris's friend Paul, also a B.C. sophomore joins us. He asks my name but can't hear the answer. "Karen?" No. "Pan? Like frying pan?" I am beginning to get annoyed. He finally gets it, and starts dancing with me. A little too close. "Will you light my cigarette?" he asks. "Because if you light your own cigarette, you lose your sex appeal. Remember that." Wow. I crack up. I whisper to Emily. I resist the urge to say "what sex appeal?" and I light his stupid cigarette...