Word: paradoxers
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...Paradox is at the core of Vasarely's throbbing vistas of geometry; it creates the tension that gives them vibrancy and verve. Although the 50 paintings on view appear to be little more than decorative flat arrangements of squares, lozenges and ovals, in fact the shapes are knitted together in complex honeycombs to create rippling illusions of perspective and depth. Glowing with savage chartreuses, electric blues, racing-silk greens and murky purple shadows, his panels, priced at up to $14,500, have made Vasarely the darling of multimillionaire collectors, including the Rothschilds and the Aga Khan...
More than Numbers. At the outset, the commission was faced with an apparent paradox. In proportion to population, the numbers of physicians, hospital beds and other health facilities are equal to or greater than they were 30 years ago; research has vastly expanded medical knowledge, and insurance and Government funds have "reduced financial barriers to care." Yet there is a "health crisis" in the country, marked by long delays in getting to see a doctor for routine care, hurried and sometimes impersonal attention, difficulty in getting care at night and on weekends, unavailability of beds in one hospital while beds...
There is as much paradox as music. Dylan is arrogant and charming, protected and protective, petty and detached, eloquent and inarticulate. He stands once removed from what he is because he can escape into the black hall and white light of the concert, into his songs where he can't be found out. "It's gonna happen fast," Dylan tells a Time reporter before a concert. "It's gonna happen fast and you're not gonna get it all. When it's over, I won't be able to talk about it. I got nothing to say about these things...
...wonder the white man so often grows cranky, fanciful, freakish, loony, violent; how else respond to a paradox which requires, with full majesty of law behind it, that he deny the very reality of a people whose multitude approaches and often exceeds his own; that he disclaim the existence of those whose human presence has marked every acre of the land, every hamlet and crossroad and city and town, and whose humanity, however inflexibly denied, is daily evidenced to him like a heartbeat in loyalty and wickedness, madness and hilarity and mayhem and pride and love...
Does it seem a hopeless paradox that the less toilsome became the circumstances of my life the more I ached to escape it? That the more tolerable and human white people became in their dealings with me the keener was my passion to destroy them...