One had to wear only black, have only a rudimentary grasp of music and songwriting, and write tunes of great angst.
(James Valentine, ‘One trick pony’, ABC)
Twenty years ago, National Geographic published their famous photo of a a young Afghani woman with fierce bright-yellow eyes; in 2001, the same woman was identified in Afghanistan—although her face was changed, worn out by her difficult life and heavy work, her intense eyes were immediately recognizable as the factor of continuity.
(Slavoj Žižek, The Puppet and the Dwarf, Appendix)
The lantern’s black frame would be scored into a template of cutout human forms, and red cellophane would be stretched underneath this cardboard scaffold. It was to be mounted on bamboo poles and lit from within, casting crimson shadows of quivering human forms.
(Susan F. Quimpo, ‘Lantern parade’, in Subversive Lives)
William S. Burroughs was quoted on the light at the end of the Buchanans’ dock :
We poets and writers are tidier, fade out in firefly evenings, a Prom and a distant train whistle, we live in a maid opening a boiled egg for a long-ago convalescent, we live in the snow on Michael’s grave falling softly like the descent of their last end on all the living and the dead, we live in the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock, in the last and greatest of human dreams.…
(Jonathan Baumbach, ‘Joe the dead seeks immortality’, New York Times, 3 Jan. 1988)
Barry Charles walked through the red door at 835 Washington St. in New York’s Meatpacking District late one Saturday night.