Pop Eye: Handmade Readymades

Hal Foster, 22 August 2002

In the early 1960s a spectre was haunting New York, the spectre of banality. Hannah Arendt was publishing her articles on ‘Eichmann in Jerusalem’ in the New Yorker, and the mostly...

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At Tate Britain: Thomas Girtin

Peter Campbell, 22 August 2002

Turner’s remark ‘Had Tom Girtin lived, I should have starved’ is as good a posthumous puff as any artist ever gave another. It’s printed on the back of Tate Britain’s...

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Empathy: Donald Francis Tovey

Robin Holloway, 8 August 2002

The name Donald Francis Tovey (always rather pompously in full) used to typify, before career musicology swept all before it, the broadly cultured rather than narrowly scholarly writer on music,...

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At Walmington-on-Sea Captain Mainwaring of the Home Guard is addressing his platoon of part-time soldiers: Well, we’re making progress. A short time ago we were just an undisciplined mob....

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Knobs, Dots and Grooves: Henry Moore

Peter Campbell, 8 August 2002

In 1910, Sickert, writing about the newly formed Contemporary Art Society’s plan to buy modern work for public galleries, gave three reasons for thinking it a bad idea. First, it would...

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In Moscow: In Moscow

Tony Wood, 8 August 2002

As you come into Moscow from Sheremetevo airport, the way is guarded by a monument marking the limit of the German advance in October 1941: red girders protrude from a sloping plinth, forming a...

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At Tate Britain: Lucian Freud

Peter Campbell, 25 July 2002

Back in 1982, as we came out of a show of Lucian Freud’s paintings at Anthony d’Offay’s gallery in Dering Street (it had not been a brief visit), a friend asked what I thought...

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Diary: A Month on the Sofa

John Lanchester, 11 July 2002

29 May. Everyone I know is obsessed with Roy Keane’s tournament-ending public diatribe against the Ireland manager, Mick McCarthy. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are, having meetings...

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Being a species with no fur, scales or feathers, oddly disposed hair and unique self-consciousness about our sexual parts, we turn to clothes. Clothes, by clinging, squeezing, covering, exposing,...

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Phut-Phut: The ‘TLS’

James Wood, 27 June 2002

There is a story that Gershom Scholem, the scholar of Jewish mysticism, was being introduced at a lecture in New York. Mysticism, the introducer said sarcastically, is nothing; but a history of...

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Diary: Hating Football

Andrew O’Hagan, 27 June 2002

I can tell you the exact moment when I decided to hate football for life. It was 11 June 1978 at 6.08 p.m. Scotland were playing Holland in the first stage of the World Cup Finals in Argentina. It...

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Hide your wives and daughtersHide the groceries tooGreat Nations of Europe coming through . . .They came in good ships; their guns were the best. First were the Portuguese, then the...

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The Amazing …: My Spidey

Jonathan Lethem, 6 June 2002

An overnight success in the making for nearly forty years, Spider-Man had been in the making in the mind of the child sitting behind me (at an 11 o’clock show at a multiplex in Brooklyn on...

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In Venice: Tourist Trouble

Peter Campbell, 6 June 2002

Venice is an astonishing survival, preserved from change above all, perhaps, by everyone’s desire to save its fair face. Although Venice in Peril: The British Appeal for the Preservation of...

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A bit of a fast-talking dame herself, Maria DiBattista is justifiably excited by the characteristic flip lip of her prewar and wartime Hollywood heroines. In her mind, I imagine, she is of their...

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Diary: Michael Jordan and Me

Benjamin Markovits, 23 May 2002

I grew up in Texas with two obsessions: basketball and Romantic verse. Satisfaction of both lay readily at hand. We had a hoop out back overlooked by the kitchen of a curry-house which sent its...

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The Brighton Museum is open again. Ten million pounds has been well spent: it is tidier, lighter, more extensive and more coherent than it was. The rich, crammed display style, which always suited...

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Expendabilia: Reyner Banham

Hal Foster, 9 May 2002

Reyner Banham was as smart and sassy as any critic in the postwar period. What made him distinctive was his passion for the edgiest expressions of his technological age, not only in avant-garde...

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