Word: womens
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...other people's children. There are queues for food, queues for asking questions, queues for liquor-and finally queues for nothing, because there is nothing left. Then there is only boredom, and the debris of boredom. Dirty glasses, old newspapers, crumpled cigarette packs. Even the people are debris. Women wander aimlessly, their hair frazzled, their makeup so streaked that their faces look as if they are melting. Men in rumpled suits, with three days' growth of beard, slump in chairs staring at the message boards that bear no messages...
...York City. There, last week, at the world's largest international airport, the scenario came true. Even at its best, an airport terminal seems inhuman-a monstrous machine disguised as a building and designed to process people and baggage. To the machine, there is no difference between men, women, children, suitcases, pets. All are collected, screened according to route, classified by status, divided into units of the right size, packaged in aircraft-and shipped. When 17 inches of drifting snow clogged the runways and access roads of John F. Kennedy airport, 6,000 people were forced to exist inside...
...takes several hours and several 200 bus fares for a woman to avail herself of them and, lacking a babysitter, she probably has to drag her other children along with her. The northern Bronx is largely white, Jewish and health-oriented; there, women go routinely to their private physicians for the same services...
...woman of dreams, the woman of lust and woman the nun," Edvard Munch once confided. The Norwegian fin de siècle painter was explaining one of his favorite compositions, which showed three women standing together-one in black, one in white, one nude. He used this trio in several different canvases, known collectively as "the Sphinx" cycle. They epitomized, as no other subject could, the shy, alcoholic bachelor's agonized obsession with that half of the human race which he never was able to understand...
Untouched by Guilt. In graphics, Munch was almost compelled to concentrate on one or at the most two aspects of his obsessive Eve. As a result, he often gained a depth totally lacking in larger group portraits of the three women. His sensuous 1895 Madonna captures a strangely melancholy bacchante, in the throes of some primeval ecstasy, clearly his "woman of lust." In Ashes (1889), she appears again, a wanton totally untouched by the guilt that overwhelms her partner-yet at the same time electrified by some outside, elemental force...