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...result, Kossoff's work went naturally against the grain. A figurative painter when abstract art was the rage, he sinned by embracing premature neoexpressionism back in the '50s and '60s. When painting was required to be thin, linear and efflorescent, Kossoff stuck to delving into the images and people around him and the memories within. His scenes of public baths, markets and Underground entrances are packed with small figures, stuck in their social matrix as though in jam (especially given Kossoff's dense pigment) -- a pictorial equivalent, as it were, of the double meaning of the Hebrew word olam, which...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Art: A Tortoise Obsessed with Oily Stuff | 11/14/1988 | See Source »

...Steel men "s.o.b.'s," then quickly cooled down and made amends. "If they don't do well, I don't do well," he explained. Even Lyndon Johnson, renowned for his arm twisting, had a more prosaic explanation for most of the successes so often credited to his legendary rage and threats. "Remember the prophet Isaiah: Come let us reason together," Johnson used to say. "Telling a man to go to hell and making him go there are two different things...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Presidency: Will These Mud Crawlers Learn to Fly? | 11/7/1988 | See Source »

WORLD: A volatile mix of nationalistic pride, ethnic rage and economic fatigue stirs up Eastern Europe...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Time Magazine Contents Page: Oct. 24, 1988 | 10/24/1988 | See Source »

...staffers of the New York Times under the iron grip of the paper's former executive editor A.M. Rosenthal. With a hair-trigger temper and skin as thin as a sheet of newsprint, Rosenthal was known to be convivial one moment, then, at the slightest miscue, fly into a rage. Those who unquestioningly did his bidding thrived; many of those who crossed him made their careers outside the hallowed offices at Times Square...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Press: The Power at the Kingdom | 10/17/1988 | See Source »

...ugliest story of the 22nd Olympics began in a bathroom in the basement of Seoul's track-and-field stadium. There, on Sept. 24, a smallish man with a fabulously muscled body and rage-filled eyes had to perform the indignity of champions. A master of explosive, almost inexplicable starts, he had already propelled his body down the 100-meter track faster than anyone before. Now his legs had ceased churning, he had relinquished the flag of his adopted Canada, which he had waved around the stadium, and the applause for the seemingly guileless sprinter who had dethroned...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Shame Of the Games | 10/10/1988 | See Source »

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