Word: snaked
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Boston men call it the "snake pit." To their wives and daughters, it is the "fabulous FABB." By any name, Filene's Automatic Bargain Basement is the town's most riotous mob scene since the Boston Massacre...
...objects. But it's well worth the ride from Commonwealth Avenue to Arlington Street to see it all. The wooden pieces-all at the University of Massachusetts-were the ones I most coveted. Wendell Castle's "mahogany and silver leaf desk" was so curvingly sculptural. resting on an undulating snake of wood, that I didn't realize it was a desk until I read the wall label...
...second was a kind of prosthetic phallus which belonged to Thirsites. When fastened to his loincloth it was visible only when he turned upstage, and its curves were those of a snake. Released, and it was left hanging a good deal of the time, it hung to his knees. Insofar as it did not allow him the modesty allowed to those around him, it gave him a reason for his cynicism. Insofar as, when it was it was present, the full dramatic force of the play swung on its axis, it gave Thirsites immediately the authority which on the page...
Oldenburg has no doubts. "People have a terrible time with the names of things," he says. "The artist sees the world abstractly-form and color. Through his work, he hopes to get people to see the world as he does." From his cavernous studio in New Haven, he sees Snake Mountain on one side, a railroad freight yard on the other. As an artist he looks on both with an equal...
...depths of each; tender and ghostly, pantherlike, a mother bereaved. For every black American, as Claude McKay's poem suggests, makes peace-or else fails to make peace-with ancestors whose names, whose very tribes, were long since lost to consciousness . Henri Rousseau's pitch-black Snake Charmer reigns at Paris' Jeu de Paume. She makes immense cold phallic serpents writhe into the moonlight, sleepily. One may identify with her, or them, but either way one finds Rousseau's image pasted permanently to the back of one's brainpan. Those serpents keep on slithering through...