Posts Tagged ‘Paris’

Dialogue: John Wilson/ Joseph Norman

Friday, September 1st, 1995

JOHN WILSON is a clas­si­cal­ly trained artist whose life’s work has been a search for endur­ing, spir­i­tu­al­ly charged images of African-Amer­i­cans. JOSEPH NORMAN weaves togeth­er all kinds of imagery into elab­o­rate com­po­si­tions that are ele­gant, yet full of feel­ing. “For both of these artists, art remains an impor­tant way to think about what it means to be human and to have an inner life.”

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Mary Cassatt

Friday, July 14th, 1989

In many of the prints, a wom­an’s face is par­tial­ly obscured, either because of the way she has turned her head, or because she is hold­ing some­thing in front of her face ‑‑ a hand, a let­ter, a child. This con­veys a sense of mys­tery, a feel­ing that there are secret mean­ings and moments of tragedy and what Vir­ginia Woolf called “ecsta­sy” — hid­den in the tex­ture of a wom­an’s dai­ly life.

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The Situationists

Saturday, January 28th, 1989

The Sit­u­a­tion­ists called for an art of excess, delir­i­um, out­rage, and social change. They believed that cap­i­tal­ism had turned con­tem­po­rary life into a soci­ety of “spec­ta­cle” that its inhab­i­tants could only pas­sive­ly watch and con­sume. Sit­u­a­tion­ism would bring art out of the muse­ums and into the streets, and sab­o­tage the soci­ety of spec­ta­cle by cre­at­ing sit­u­a­tions in which peo­ple could turn their own lives into a cre­ative experience.

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Renoir: A Lesson in Happiness

Saturday, December 1st, 1984

“His hands were ter­ri­bly deformed. Rheuma­tism had cracked the joints, bend­ing the thumb toward the palm and the oth­er fin­gers toward the wrist. Vis­i­tors who weren’t used to it couldn’t take their eyes off this muti­la­tion. Their reac­tion, which they didn’t dare express, was: ‘It’s not pos­si­ble. With those hands, he can’t paint these pic­tures. There’s a mystery!’ The mys­tery was Renoir himself.”

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Jean-Francois Millet: Seeds of Impressionism

Friday, June 1st, 1984

Jean-Fran­cois MILLET saw a time­less beau­ty and sad­ness in life, in evenings dark and filled with col­or. “What I know of hap­pi­ness is the qui­et, the silence, that you can savor so deli­cious­ly, either in the forests, or in the fields,” he wrote.

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