Word: potatoe
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...photographs (like the hesitatingly named Untitled (Rolled Cheese)) are unidentifiable except as organic forms. Others, like Untitled (Lamp and Branch with Meat) and Untitled (Rabbit/Comb/Button), have been cast in roles that are alien to their natures. But in his most successful still lives, Untitled (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...
...photographs (like the hesitatingly named Untitled (Rolled Cheese)) are unidentifiable except as organic forms. Others, like Untitled (Lamp and Branch with Meat) and Untitled Rabbit/Comb/Button), have been cast in roles that are alien to their natures. But in his most successful still lives, Untitled (Beans) and 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...
Initially driven to Boston by the potato faminewhich struck Ireland between 1845 and 1849, theIrish continued to flow to Boston and Cambridge,turning City Hall and the world of the Hub into anIrish center...
...potato blight which killed crops throughout Ireland was the final movement in this first symphony of sorrows, to be joined later by Civil War and the Troubles. Potatoes were all that was left for most Irish people to eat. By 1845, potatoes had become the sole staple of the Irish diet. When they were gone, there was no food available to the poor. They could not afford anything else, and it was knowingly not given to them, prompting some historians to label the Famine not as an unfortunate calamity but as a genocide...
...against her wrist. We fix each other in a longing gaze. The lights in the deli go out, and then, in the sweaty summer evening, with the red neon pastrami sign flashing in the window, we roll around on the checkered linoleum among the containers of cole slaw and potato salad with chives. In the morning we run off together to set up a new deli in New Delhi. That's the way men "think." What we say is, "No mayo, please...