Word: portraited
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...Wolfman" on the prowl eventually force Parker to face what he has committed. There is some macabre humor in this recognition; understanding that he is in fact a carnivore, the former health-food addict starts gorging on junk. But somewhere around this point, Theroux begins a tour de force portrait of character disintegration, meticulously detailed and utterly convincing. A clearer sense of who Parker was before he fell apart might have made Chicago Loop a clearer, more uplifting admonitory tale; the scariest possibility is that the anti-hero was no one at all until he found his fate...
...20th century works will also help flesh out the Met's skeletal early- Modernist collection. The Annenberg paintings include a very fine Georges Braque studio interior from 1939, and At the Lapin Agile, Picasso's self- portrait as Harlequin at the bar of a Montmartre dive. This souvenir of lost bohemia cost Annenberg $40.7 million at auction...
...then came the ice of Stalinism, the crushing of the cultural avant- garde. Malevich retracted; he went back to painting cutouts of peasants in the field; his last picture, from 1933, is a realist self-portrait in which the primary colors of Suprematism are shifted into the panels of the costume he wears. He looks like Christopher Columbus, as well he might...
...courtroom fell silent as Kgase painted a devastating portrait of Mandela. He accused her of berating the four victims as "not fit to be alive" and then repeatedly punching them, despite their denials of homosexual conduct. "She asked me why do I make friends with white people?" said Kgase. At one point, he said, she struck him with a whip, "humming a tune and dancing to the rhythm." Kgase testified that some of the worst beatings were reserved for James Moeketsi ("Stompie") Seipei, 14, whom Mrs. Mandela accused of being a police informant. The youth was later found dead. Jerry...
...this quick conversational self-portrait of the artist as an inspector of milk-carton dates, even for a second, the impression is immediately erased when Joni Mitchell's new album, Night Ride Home, kicks in with the title cut. The instrumentation is spare, the melody light and tight as a fresh-spun web, the lyrics casual, conversational and smooth as a stone in a Zen garden. It takes a good deal of practical education to make something as intricate as her music seem so simple. And -- yes, all right -- so fresh...