Word: russet
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...Bruce M. Russet, professor of political Science at Yale and a former student and colleague of Deutsch's, recalls that, "He was just full of ideas. He had a vision of political science as a vigorous social science and an idea of how to get there. That kind of informed enthusiasm was enormously contagious to those of us who were graduate students under...
...other times, though, the messages seem lost in transit. For instance, Groffo dances on a table at Dave's baptism. He flails about in a russet suit on an orange tablecloth, only to fall on an orange roast pig which has an orange in its mouth and is lit by orange candles at its head. For Groffo to fall on the pig is appropriate but for everything to be orange makes no sense...
...catalogue, "has been purified and transformed by the dignity of its costumes." The motifs of a robe's design establish the mood, the period and the place of the action. Thus-to a Japanese theatergoer who knew the rules-a costume like the karaori robe in russet silk (see color] would at once suggest a Heian-period court, somewhere between A.D. 800 and 1200. The balls, woven with exquisite precision in raised white silk, refer to a Heian court game called kemari, an aristocratic and pointless kind of football with no rules. The game consisted of several players kicking...
...life, the flow of myth and history subjects abated as he went deeper than any earlier painter had gone into the structure of color. At Petworth, enjoying the relaxed and eccentric patronage of Lord Egremont, he produced paintings like Music Party, Petworth: its forms dissolving in a bath of russet light would look extreme for Monet in 1895, let alone in England 60 years earlier. In the last landscapes, the world of detail and substance has been fully absorbed into the vibration of light, pure self-delighting energy manifesting itself. Except for Blake's, they are the most religious...
...hour's drive north of Damascus into the russet foothills of the Anti-Lebanon range, the road curves past an elegant stand of cypress trees. Suddenly the village cascades into view. The flat-roofed houses of mud and stone climb up the walls of a dead-end canyon of brown rock. Nestled in a crevice is the dome of a small convent, and high above, on the crest of the ravine, looms the Byzantine cupola of a monastery that, according to its lone priest, is 1,700 years old. Below is a patchwork of tiny fields where villagers grow...