Art Deco
Art Deco was a movement in decorative arts[?] and architecture, deriving its name from the Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes held in Paris in 1925. It was a major style in Europe and the US during the 1930s. The term Art Deco was apparently not coined until the 1960s, and its practitioners were not working as a coherent community of stylists. It is considered to be eclectic, and influenced by a variety of different art forms, including ancient egyptian, and also later influenced by manufacturing and streamlining techniques arising from consumerism and mass production.Noted Art Deco Artists and Designers
- Cassandre[?]
- Jean Dunand[?]
- Jean Dupas[?]
- Erte[?]
- Rene Lalique
- Tamara de Lempicka
- Paul Manship
- Walter Dorwin Teague
- C. Paul Jennewein[?]
Noted Art Deco Architects
External Links
- http://orathost.cfa.ilstu.edu/exhibits/pcfare/deco.html (Art Deco page by Phil Fare)
- http://www.artlex.com/ArtLex/a/artdeco.html (ArtLex on Art Deco)
- V & A Art Deco exhibition (http://www.vam.ac.uk/vastatic/microsites/1157_art_deco/resources/)
To fasten myself like a saprophyte
Of Thomas Rhodes, bankrupt bank,
Everyone now turned from me.
My purple lusts grew gray,
And for years Death ignored me
I was sick of the tiresome game in Spoon River
And leave my place in life.html">life.html">life and my family;
Quick off the steps jumped Cully Green
To settle their ancient rivalry,
Like the blows of knotted clubs.
When his bloody face.html">face broke into a grin
And whining out "We're good friends.html">friends, Mart,
But a terrible punch from Martin knocked him
And then they arrested me as a witness,
To wage my battle of life to the end.
You, so ashamed and drooped for years,
And tying rags ,round.html">round your festering soul,
One more term, so as to round out a service
But my friends left me and joined my enemies,
Then a spirit.html">spirit of revenge.html">revenge seized me,
And I brooded upon retaliation,
Smote me through with paralysis
Did my sons get power and money?
To till and harvest fields of self.html">self?
My face at my bed-room window,
Of singing canaries,
But through what bitterness of spirit!
Child-like, watching his canaries,
Of the county judge's room,
My own in life, and punish Spoon River
Filled me with furious energy
But what did he do but send me along
I followed the path and I tell you this:
Shadow-eyed, bent over their weaving.
The thread of revenge leap out of the shuttle
The shears and cut it, lest your sons
Wear the envenomed robe.
Alfred Moir
WHY was I not devoured by self-contempt,
And impotent revolt like Indignation Jones?
Did I miss the fate of Willard Fluke?
As a sort of decoy for the house to the boys
.
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