Word: stillness
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Visionary ineloquence has a lot to do with native American culture, being woven into the American sense of the epic-and in painting, Still is its living example. His entire output is a repudiation of the cult of the "well-made picture." From the beginning, Still's art-unlike, say, de Kooning's-set itself in opposition to the cubist tradition with its small scale, ambiguities of space and geometric calibration. What he wanted, and had found by 1947, was a much simpler, grander and more declarative kind of structure: opaque, ragged planes of color rearing...
...tradition to which Still's work is related is heroic landscape, the art of the epic vista, as seen in 19th century America by painters like Bierstadt and Moran. No doubt, in some general way, his years spent under larger skies than Manhattan's, in the Midwest and Pacific Northwest, contributed to the sense of vast atmospheric scale in his art. But to read it directly as landscape violates its meaning. The cliffs and ravines of color, the jagged rifts of blue or vermilion breaking through a matrix of dense enveloping black, are no metaphors of the Grand...
...ended 32 months later, it had involved 450,000 imperial and colonial troops, of whom 22,000 lay dead on African soil. At least 25,000 Boers perished. And in this misnamed "white man's war," more than 12,000 blacks died on both sides. Its consequences still fuel hate in the Third World and guilt in the First...
...strong or successful to understand the real condition of life: that it is vulnerable to mysterious sudden changes, controlled by powers that the subject does not understand. Imaginative arrangements must be made, all of them temporary. "Gabriel at that time," Gallant writes about a young refugee in France, "still imagined that everyone's life must be about the same, something like a half-worked crossword puzzle...
...found her lying on the rug before the fire. Clover? She must have fainted. Henry knelt down. There was a strange smell. One of the chemicals that she used for her photography. Potassium cyanide. From the bottle lying there. Henry picked up the body, still warm, soft, heavy, and dragged it over to the sofa. Clover did not open her eyes. Did not answer him. Did not explain. Did not move...