Word: realism
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...waiting for the day when the dazzle of abstract expressionism will die away and large numbers of people will appreciate his resolutely realistic paintings of symbol-laden still life. His wait may be ending. The pendulum of public taste started to swing back toward the figure, and words like "realism." "craftsman ship" and "beauty" are appearing again in art criticism. A show of what Bohrod has been doing while he waited opened last week in Chicago, and 20 of the still lifes on view-most no bigger than a phone book-have already been sold at prices ranging from...
...Touch" signs beside the paintings in the gallery were put up to discourage visitors who are sure that some of Bohrod's realism is collage. Though he denies being a trompe l'oeil painter, Bohrod stands as an eye-fool tower of strength to other long-thwarted realists. To jeers of "get a camera," Bohrod replies that the camera is a wonderful eye, but it has no guiding brain, heart or soul...
...most comprehensive collection of African art ever assembled. It ranges from the terra-cotta pieces of the Nok culture. 2,000 years ago. through the supremely realistic Ife portrait heads of the 8th to the 14th century, to the Benin empire bronzes that mark the turning point from realism to expressionism between the 15th and the 19th centuries. The most recent pieces of traditional art in the show are wood carvings 50 years old. The older things have survived because they are made of terra cotta. bronze, iron or brass; millions of wood sculptures have been destroyed over the ages...
...recent years has not been proven otherwise: Japan's Akira Kurosawa. In Rashomon, Seven Samurai and Throne of Blood he displayed formidable powers as a moralist, an ironist, a calligraphist of violence. In Ikiru, one of cinema's rare great works of art. he revealed a rugged realism, an exquisite humanity, a sense for what is sublime in being human. Now. in a movie that is both a wow of a show and a masterpiece of misanthropy, Kurosawa emerges as a bone-cracking satirist who with red-toothed glee chews out his century as no dramatist has done...
Locked into his peculiarly American narrative style (it might well be called "feces on the barroom floor realism"), Jones ends by piling grisly detail upon grisly detail without being wise or eloquent enough to give the accumulation shape or meaning. He exposes nothing even vaguely profound about the company's inner experience, and most of the time seems hardly more articulate about emotions than the poor numbed soldiers whose traumatic anguish he once shared...