Word: sunlite
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...starting point of the Asian print renaissance is a sunlit studio perched above the sluggish Singapore River. There, resident artists sketch or paint their works. When they're done, they descend to the movement's operations room, a cement-floored space sealed to all natural light. It is dominated by machinery once owned by the hugely influential though now retired American printer after whom the institute is named: Kenneth Tyler, a man who consistently pushed the boundaries of printmaking from the 1960s onward, working with such artistic luminaries as Frank Stella and David Hockney. "All the machines can be pretty...
...Born to Run Her departure was a distillate of all things Palin. It packed the same gob-smacking wallop as her arrival on the GOP ticket. Sunlit against an Alaskan waterfront, it was as telegenic as her boffo acceptance speech. Rambling along in Palinesque fashion, she didn't quite tell us where she's headed, but she left no doubt that she remains in a hurry to get there...
...wife and three children, the faithful retrievers, the rambling old house in Ossining, N.Y. - in all its outward signs, his life was commensurate with his role as the man who was, with John Updike, the esteemed chronicler of the postwar suburbs. But if you came to his fiction expecting sunlit scenes of American life, you were mistaken. Though his work was shot through with the beauty and abundance of the world, of suburban "nights where kings in golden suits ride elephants over the mountains," there was also failure and weakness at every turn. The men were poorly equipped for life...
...late March, Burgos' family held a celebration for what would have been his 38th birthday at the Carmelite convent where Edita Burgos works. As she sat in the convent's sunlit courtyard, in front on an untouched chocolate cake, a procession of careworn middle-aged women came up to her. They were, she explained, mothers of other activists who have vanished. When the women had gone, Burgos continued: "This is not about Jonas alone. They are killing the future leaders of our country. If you kill these people, who will be left...
Five years ago, on the night of June 1, 2003, a Phoenix housewife named Stephenie Meyer had a dream: a young woman was talking to a beautiful, sparkling man in a sunlit meadow. The man was a vampire. They were in love, and he was telling the girl how hard it was for him to keep from killing...