Word: plasters
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...Hope in Plaster...
...have a patient. We have placed him in a plaster cast. We keep him there until the wound heals," said Premier George Papadopoulos, the colonel who is strongman of the current Greek military regime. He was only trying to explain why civil and political liberties in Greece remain suspended under martial law. But it was the sort of metaphor that appealed quite naturally to Assemblagist Vlassis Canairis, 40, who studied medicine at Athens University before turning to the practice of painting and sculpture in 1950. The exhibition that he has mounted in Athens' small "New Gallery" illustrates its vividness...
...dominant work on display is a tableau featuring eight torsolike constructions made of wire netting swathed in plaster, lined up against a wall painted to look like a strikingly blue Greek sky. The figures are bound to the wall by strands of concentration-camp barbed wire. Another piece consists of a plaster "torso" wearing a bloodstained gray jacket, its arms flung out handless in the posture of a crucifix. Two or three blood-red cloth carnations sprout from the jacket's inside pockets. Still another assemblage presents a shoe embedded in a plaster block. Where the toe dared...
Canairis maintains that "I never get involved in politics. My message? Simply that where death is, there is also life." To visitors who come to the gallery, he passes out small square blocks of white plaster with a carnation embedded in each. Despite only two guarded references in the censored Greek press, Athenians have made their way to the gallery in droves. They come in twos and threes, solemn, quiet, and most make their comments in whispers. But a few have been more outspoken. Said one young man: "The wire will be snapped off, the plaster will break...
...scuff at a frayed carpet edge with the toe of one glossy, custom-made Irish brogan. He sniffed the air. His glance shifted to the flowers on the coffee tables, skipped from ashtray to ashtray around the small room. Tilting his head back, he peered at the ceiling plaster and moldings. Finally, almost diffidently, he walked up to the counter and cleared his throat. "Yes, sir? What can I do for you?" inquired the receptionist. The spy plunked Fielding's Travel Guide down on the counter. "My name," he announced, "is Temple Fielding. I happen to write this book here...