To the Unknown Painter, Anselm Kiefer

To the Unknown Painter, Anselm Kiefer To the Unknown Painter, a painting made of oil, acrylic, latex, emulsion, and shellac, was created by Anselm Kiefer in 1983 (Figure 1). A palette adorned upon a pedestal sits in a vacated space surrounded by tattered columns while casket-like shapes seem to lay on the ground around the pedestal. Dark colors envelope the horizon while reds, browns, and whites color the columns. The palette sits directly in the center, almost unrecognizable, with a thin pedestal that matches the dark blue and black of the horizon. Straw is stuck on with a planned randomicity, giving it a scratchy and messy look. Although the area is physically empty, it is filled with Kiefers own victimhood and memories of traumatic events during Nazi Germany[1] Empty interiors of Nazi architecture, specifically referring to the courtyard of Hitlers Chancellery in Berlin designed by Speer, are used as a space for traumatic memories that will not be mourned or a space of internalization. Kiefer, a German himself, was born shortly before the Holocaust ended, so he did not experience much of the horrors many people lived through. The walls of columns suggest the Nazis and German rule keeping hidden the actions they had committed against millions of victims. Whereas the palette represents himself, a painter, who is stuck among the past and judgments of the present. The messy and scratchy texture simulates how Nazis would destroy artwork that were not in agreement with the German power. The painting speaks towards not only about himself, but towards the Germans and the Jewish. The empty space holds a memorial for traumatic memories of the Holocaust. Suspended in the center, the palette mounted on a pedestal becomes a memorial for Kiefers own sense of victimhood[2]. The palette, representing the victim, appears to look like it is trying to rise above the past and move on from those horrific events. Because he is German, he imagines himself as the victim of a burdensome historical legacy, unable to be unselfconsciously German because of the judgements passed on from others[3]. The painting brings people to the attention that not only what had happened was horrible, they shouldnt continuously badly judge and criticize current Germans who had no control of their ancestors choices. While the palette is reminiscent of a helmet resting upon a gun, it relates to a fallen soldier in a battle. Memorializing his life and what he went through. The battered architecture brings us back to remember that it is also a painting as well as a representation of memories being held within the space. Although the space seems to hold memories, the columns seem to be breaking and letting the memories go so they can be mourned and remembered instead of being repressed. The architecture reaches to the back with a one point perspective as if it is reaching towards the past. There could be two different interpretations from the painting from two different audiences, the Jewish and the Germans, or himself. The Jewish could interpret this as a way to memorialize the victims during the Holocaust, those who died because of German power. Casket-like shapes on the ground could represent these victims. Kiefer made a problematic claim that he and other Germans are victims as well because of the claims that they are still like theyre ancestors, so they will continue to carry around the burden of being German. The painting brings the attention of more about the scene of repression and how people shouldnt hold in the memories and be able to mourn them and let them go. Kiefer painted this along with a few others in a series, one of which is Tomb of the Unknown Painter. Doing research, this painting and To the Unknown Painter both came up when trying to find information, although more sources were available for this one[4]. Both of the paintings are similar in that they both use the same materials and contain a scratchy texture, attained with straw. Instead of a palette on a pedestal, a tomb sits upon stairs within a similar looking space. They represent similar things, traumatic events and a memorialization of those victims. The colors are dark, representing the dark past, mixed with strokes of bright colors such as red and yellow. Overall, Kiefer displays a controversial topic about the German victimization that has an impact on millions of people and can open peoples eyes to the reality of stereotyping and judgement upon them. His point is to get across that people should not continue to blame others for their ancestors actions, rather mourn the past and move on with a rebirth of a society. Word count: 814 Figure 1. To the Unknown Painter, Anselm Kiefer. 1983. Dem unbekannten Maler. Oil, acrylic, emulsion, shellac, and straw on canvas. 208 x 380cm[5]. Bibliography Saltzman, Lisa. Anselm Kiefer And Art After Auschwitz. Cambridge; Cambridge University Press, 1999. Arasse, Daniel. Anselm Kiefer. New York; Thames Hudson, 2015. [1] Lisa Saltzman. Anselm Kiefer And Art After Auschwitz. (Cambridge; Cambridge University Press, 1999), 68. [2] Ibid, 68. [3] Ibid, 69. [4] Daniel Arasse, Anselm Kiefer (New York; Thames Hudson, 2015), 70. [5] Ibid, 70.

Night World : Daughters of Darkness Chapter 6

Whydidn't we just kill her?† Kestrel asked. Rowan and Jade looked at each other. There were few things they agreed on, but one of them was definitely Kestrel. . â€Å"First of all, we agreed not to do that here. Wedon't use our powers-â€Å" â€Å"And we don't feed onhumans. Or kill them,† Kestrel finished the chant. â€Å"But you already used your powers tonight; you called Jade.† â€Å"I had to let her know what story I'd just toldabout Aunt Opal. Actually, I should have planned forthis earlier. I should have realized that people are going to come and ask where Aunt Opal is.† â€Å"She's the only one who's asking. If we killed her-â€Å" â€Å"We can't just go killing people in our new home,†Rowan said tightly. â€Å"Besides, she said she had family waiting for her. Are we going to kill all of them?† Kestrel shrugged. â€Å"We arenotgoing to start a blood feud,† Rowan said even more tightly. â€Å"But what about influencing her?† Jade said. Shewas sitting with Tiggy in her arms, kissing the velvety black top of the kitten's head. â€Å"Making her forget she's suspicious-or making her think she saw Aunt Opal?† â€Å"That would be fine-if it were just her,† Rowansaid patiently. â€Å"But it's not. Are we going to influ enceeveryone who comes to the house? What aboutpeople who call on the phone? What about teachers?You two are supposed to start school in a couple of weeks.† â€Å"Maybe we'll just have to miss that,† Kestrel said without regret. Rowan was shaking her head. â€Å"We need a permanent solution. We need to find some reasonable explanation for why Aunt Opal is gone.† â€Å"We need to move Aunt Opal,† Kestrel said flatly.†We need to get rid of her.† â€Å"No, no. We might have to produce the body,†Rowan said. â€Å"Looking likethat?† They began to argue about it. Jade rested her chin on Tiggy's head and stared out the multipaned kitchen window. She was thinking about Mark Carter, who had such a gallant heart. It gave her a pleasantly forbidden thrill just to picture him. Back home there weren't any humans wandering around free. She could never have been tempted to break NightWorld law and fall in love with one. But here †¦yes, Jade could almost imagine falling in love with Mark Carter. Just as if she were a human girl. She shivered deliriously. But just as she was tryingto picture what human girls did when they were in love, Tiggy gave a sudden heave. He twisted out of her arms and hit the kitchen floor running. The fur on his back was up. Jade looked at the window again.She couldn't see anything. But †¦she felt †¦ She turned to her sisters. â€Å"Something was out there in the garden tonight,† she said. â€Å"And Icouldn't smell it.† Rowan and Kestrel were still arguing. They didn't hear her. Mary-Lynnette opened her eyes and sneezed. She'd overslept. Sun was shining around the edges of her dark blue curtains. Get up and get to work, she told herself. But instead she lay rubbing sleep out of her eyes and tryingto wake up. She was a night person, not a morningperson. The room was large and painted twilight blue. Mary-Lynnette had stuck the glow-in-the-dark starsand planets to the ceiling herself. Taped onto the dresser mirror was a bumper sticker saying I BRAKEFOR ASTEROIDS.On the walls were a giant relief map of the moon, a poster from the Sky-Gazer's Almanac, and photographic prints of the Pleiades,theHorsehead Nebula, and the total eclipse of 1995. It was Mary-Lynnette's retreat, the place to go when people didn't understand. She always felt safeinthe night. She yawned and staggered to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt on the way. She was brushing her hair as she walked down the stairs when she heard voices from the living room. -252Claudine's voice †¦ and a male voice. Not Mark; weekdays he usually went to his friend Ben's house.A stranger. Mary-Lynnette peeked through the kitchen. Therewas a guy sitting on the living room couch. She could see only the back of his head, which was ash blond. Mary-Lynnette shrugged and started to open the refrigerator, when she heard her own name. â€Å"Mary-Lynnette is very good friends with her,† Claudine was saying in her quick, lightly accented voice. â€Å"I remember a few years ago she helped her fix up a goat shed.† They're talking about Mrs. B.! â€Å"Why does she keep goats? I think she told Mary-Lynnette it would help since she couldn't get out that much anymore.† â€Å"How strange,† the guy said. He had a lazy, careless-sounding voice. â€Å"I wonder what she meant bythat.† Mary-Lynnette, who was now peering intently through the kitchen while keeping absolutely still,saw Claudine give one of her slight, charming shrugs. â€Å"I suppose she meant the milk-every day she has fresh milk now. She doesn't have to go to the store. But I don't know. You'll have to ask her yourself.† She laughed. -252Not going to be easy, Mary-Lynnette thought. Now, why would some strange guy be here asking questions about Mrs. B.? Of course. He had to be police or something. FBI.But his voice made her wonder. He sounded too young to be either, unless he was planning to infiltrate Dewitt High as a narc. Mary-Lynnette edgedfarther into the kitchen, getting a better view.There-she could see him in the mirror. Disappointment coursed through her. Definitely not old enough to be FBI. And much asMary-Lynnette wanted him to be a keen-eyed, quick witted, hard-driving detective, he wasn't. He was only the handsomest boy she'd ever seen in her life. He was lanky and elegant, with long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed under the coffee table. He looked like a big amiable cat. He had deancut features, slightly tilted wicked eyes, and a disarming lazy grin. Not just lazy, Mary-Lynnette decided. Fatuous. Bland. Maybe even stupid. She wasn't impressed by good looks unless they were the thin, brown, and interesting kind, like-well, like Jeremy Lovett for instance. Gorgeous guys-guys who looked like bigash-blond cats-didn't have any reason to develop their minds. They were self-absorbed and vain. With IQs barely high enough to keep a seat warm. And this guy looked as if he couldn't get awake orserious to save his life. I don't care what he's here for. Ithink I'll go upstairs. it was then that the guy on the couch lifted onehand, wiggling the fingers in the air. He half-turned. Not far enough actually to look at Mary-Lynnette,but far enough to make it dear he was talking to somebody behind him. She could now see his profilein the mirror. â€Å"Hi, there.† â€Å"Mary-Lynnette, is that you?† Claudine called. â€Å"Yes.† Mary-Lynnette opened the refrigerator doorand made banging noises. â€Å"Just getting some juice. Then I'm going out.† Her heard was beating hard-with embarrassmentand annoyance. Okay, so he must have seen her in the mirror. He probably thought she was staring at him because of the way he looked. He probably had people staring at him everywhere he went. So what, big deal, go away. â€Å"Don't go yet,† Claudine called. â€Å"Come out here and talk for a few minutes.† No. Mary-Lynnette knew it was a childish and stupid reaction, but she couldn't help it. She banged a bottle of apricot juice against a bottle of Calistoga sparkling water. â€Å"Come meet Mrs. Burdock's nephew,† Claudine called. Mary-Lynnette went still. She stood in the cold air of the refrigerator, lookingsightlessly at the temperature dial in the back. Then she put the bottle of apricot juice down. She twisted a Coke out of a six-pack without seeing it. What nephew? I don't remember hearing about any nephew. But then, she'd never heard much about Mrs. B.'s nieces either, not until they were coming out. Mrs. B. just didn't talk about her familymuch. So he's her nephew. . . that's why he's askingabout her. But does he know? Ishe in on it with those girls? Or is he after them? Or .. . Thoroughly confused, she walked into the living room. â€Å"Mary-Lynnette, this is Ash. He's here to visit withhis aunt and his sisters,† Claudine said. â€Å"Ash, this isMary-Lynnette. The one who's such good friends with your aunt.† Ash gotup, all in one lovely, lazy motion. Just like a cat, including the stretch in the middle. â€Å"Hi.† He offered a hand. Mary-Lynnette touched it withfingers damp and cold from the Coke can, glanced up at his face, and said â€Å"Hi.† Except that it didn't happen that way. If happened like this: Mary-Lynnette had her eyeson the carpet as she came in, which gave her a good view of his Nike tennis shoes and the ripped kneesof his jeans. When he stood up she looked at his T-shirt, which had an obscure design-a black floweron a white background. Probably the emblem of some rock group. And then when his hand entered her field of vision, she reached for it automatically, muttering a greeting and looking up at his face justas she touched it. And This was the part that was hard to describe. Contact. Somethinghappened. Hey, don't I know you? She didn't. That was the thing. She didn't know him-but she felt that she should. She also felt as if somebody had reached inside her and touched herspine with a live electric wire. It was extremely not enjoyable. The room turned vaguely pink. Her throat swelled and she could feel her heart beating there. Also not-enjoyable. But somehow when you put it alltogether, it made a kind of trembly dizziness like †¦ Like what she felt when she looked at the Lagoon Nebula. Or imagined galaxies gathered into dusters and superclusters, bigger and bigger, until size lost any meaning and she felt herself falling. She was falling now. She couldn't see anything except his eyes. And those eyes were strange, prismlike, changing color like a star seen throughheavy atmosphere. Now blue, now gold, now violet. Oh, take this away. Please, I don't want it. â€Å"It's so good to see a new face around here, isn'tit? We're very boring out here by ourselves,† Claudine said, in completely normal and slightly flustered tones. Mary-Lynnette was snapped out of her trance, and she reacted as if Ash had just offered her a mongoose instead of his hand. She jumped backward,looking anywhere but at him. She had the feeling of being saved from falling down a mine shaft. â€Å"O-kay,† Claudine _ said in her cute accent.†Hmm.† She was twisting a strand of curly dark hair, something she only did when she was extremely ner vous. â€Å"Maybe you guys know each other already?† There was a silence. I should say something, Mary-Lynnette thoughtdazedly, staring at the fieldstone fireplace. I'm acting crazy and humiliating Claudine. But what just happened here? Doesn't matter. Worry later. She swallowed, plastered a smile on her face, and said, â€Å"So, how long are you here for?† Her mistake was that then she looked at him. Andit all happened again. Not quite as vividly as before, maybe because she wasn't touching him. But the electric shock feeling was the same. Andhelooked like a cat who's had a shock. Bristling. Unhappy. Astonished. Well, at least he wasawake, Mary-Lynnette thought. He and Mary-Lynnettestared at each other while the room spun andturned pink. â€Å"Whoare you?† Mary-Lynnette said, abandoning any vestige of politeness. â€Å"Who areyou?† he said, in just about exactly the same tone. They both glared. Claudine was making little clicking noises with her tongue and clearing away the tomato juice. Mary Lynnette felt distantly sorry for her, but couldn'tspare her any attention. Mary-Lynnette's whole consciousness was focused on the guy in front of her; on fighting him, on blocking him out. On getting rid of this bizarre feeling that she was one of two puzzle pieces that had just been snapped together. â€Å"Now, look,† she said tensely, at the precise moment that he began brusquely, â€Å"Look-â€Å" They both stopped and glared again. Then Mary-Lynnette managed to tear her eyes away. Something was tugging at her mind†¦ . â€Å"Ash,† she said, getting hold of it.†Ash. Mrs. Burdockdid say something about you †¦ about a littleboy named Ash. I didn't know she was talking abouther nephew.† â€Å"Great-nephew,† Ash said, his voice not quite steady. â€Å"What did she say?† â€Å"She said that you were a bad little boy, and that you were probably going to grow up even worse.† â€Å"Well, she had thatright,† Ash said, and his ex pression softened a bit-as if he were on more familiar ground. Mary-Lynnette's heart was slowing. She found thatif she concentrated, she could make the strange feel ings recede. It helped if she looked away from Ash. Deep breath, she told herself. And another. Okay,now let's get things straight. Let go of what just hap pened; forget all that; think about it later. What's important now? What was important nowwas that: 1) This guy was the brother of those girls; 2) He might be in on whatever had happened to Mrs. B.; and, 3) If he wasn'tin on it, he might be able to help with some informa tion. Such as whether his aunt had left a will, and if so, who got the family jewels. She glanced at Ash from the side of her eye. He definitely looked calmer. Hackles going down. Chest lifting more slowly. They were both switching gear. â€Å"So Rowan and Kestrel and Jade are your sisters,† she said, with all the polite nonchalance she could muster. â€Å"They seem nice.† â€Å"I didn't know you knew them,† Claudine said,and Mary-Lynnette realized her stepmother was hovering in the doorway, petite shoulder against thedoorjamb, arms crossed, dishtowel in hand. â€Å"I told him you hadn't met them.† â€Å"Mark and I went over there yesterday,† MaryLynnette said. And when she said it, something flashed in Ash's face–something there and gone before she could really analyze it. But it made her feelas ifshe were standing on the edge of a cliff in a cold wind. Why? What could be wrong with mentioning she'd met the girls? â€Å"You and Mark . . .and Mark would be-yourbrother?† â€Å"That's right,† Claudine said from the doorway. â€Å"Any other brothers or sisters?† Mary-Lynnette blinked. â€Å"What, you're taking a census?† Ash did a bad imitation of his former lazy smile. â€Å"I just like to keep track of my sisters' friends.† Why?†To see if you approve or something?† â€Å"Actually, yes.† He did the smile again, with moresuccess. â€Å"We're an old-fashioned family. Very old-fashioned.† Mary-Lynnette's jaw dropped. Then, all at once,she felt happy. Now she didn't need to think about murders or pink rooms or what this guy knew. All she needed to think about was what she was goingto do to him. â€Å"So you're an old-fashioned family,† she said, moving a step forward. Ash nodded. â€Å"And you're in charge,† Mary-Lynnette said. â€Å"Well, out here. Back home, my father is.† â€Å"And you're just going to tell your sisters which friends they can have. Maybe you get to decide your aunt's friends, too?† â€Å"Actually, I was just discussing that†¦.†He waved a hand toward Claudine. Yes, you were, Mary-Lynnette realized. She took another step toward Ash, who was still smiling. â€Å"Oh, no,† Claudine said. She flapped her dishtowelonce. â€Å"Don't smile.† â€Å"I like a girl with spirit,† Ash offered, as if he'dworked hard on finding the most obnoxious thing possible to say. Then, with a sort of determined bravado, he winked, reached out, and chucked Mary-Lynnette under the chin. Fzzz! Sparks. Mary-Lynnette sprang back. So didAsh, looking at his own hand as if it had betrayed him. Mary-Lynnette had an inexplicable impulse to knock Ash flat and fall down on top of him. She'd never felt that for any boy before. She ignored the impulse and kicked him in the shin. He yelped and hopped backward. Once again the sleepy smugness was gone from his face. He looked alarmed. â€Å"I think you'd better go away now,† Mary-Lynnette said pleasantly. She was amazed at herself. She'd never been the violent type. Maybe there werethings hidden deep inside her that she'd never suspected. Claudine was gasping and shaking her head. Ashwas still hopping, but not going anywhere. MaryLynnette advanced on him again. Even though he was half a head taller, he backed up. He stared at her in something like wonder. â€Å"Hey. Hey, look, you know, you really don't knowwhat you're doing,† he said. â€Å"If you knew†¦Ã¢â‚¬  AndMary-Lynnette saw it again-something in his face that made him suddenly look not fatuous or amiable at all. Like the glitter of a knife blade in the light. Something that saiddanger†¦ . â€Å"Oh, go bother someone else, † Mary-Lynnette said. She drew back her foot for another kick. He opened his mouth, then shut it. Still holding his shin, he looked at Claudine and managed a hurt and miserable flirtatious smile. â€Å"Thanks so much for all your-â€Å" â€Å"Go!† He lost the smile. â€Å"That's what I'm doingl† He limped to the front door. She followed him. â€Å"What do they call you, anyway?† he asked from the front yard, as if he'd finally found the comebackhe'd been looking for. â€Å"Mary? Marylin? M'lin? M.L.?† â€Å"They call me Mary-Lynnette,† Mary-Lynnette said flatly, and added under her breath, â€Å"That do speak of me.† She'd read The Taming of the Shrew in honors English last year. â€Å"Oh, yeah? How about M'lin the cursed?† He was still backing away. Mary-Lynnette was startled. So maybe his class hadread it, too. But he didn't look smart enough to quote Shakespeare. â€Å"Have fun with your sisters,† she said, and shutthe door. Then she leaned against it, trying to get herbreath. Her fingers and face were prickly-numb, as if she were going to faint. If those girls had only murderedhim, I'd understand, she thought. But they're all sostrange-there's something seriously weird about that whole family. Weird in a way that scared her. If she'd believed in premonitions, she'd have been even more scared. She had a bad feeling-a feeling that things weregoing to happen†¦. Claudine was staring at her from the living room. â€Å"Very fabulous,† she said. â€Å"You've just kicked a guest. Now, what was that all about?†Ã¢â‚¬ He wouldn't leave.† â€Å"You know what I mean. Do you two know eachother?† Mary-Lynnette just shrugged vaguely. The dizziness was passing, but her mind was swimming with questions. Claudine looked at her intently, then shook herhead. â€Å"I remember my little brother-when he wasfour years old he used to push a girl flat on her face in the sandbox. He did it to show he liked her.† Mary-Lynnette ignored this. â€Å"Claude-what wasAshherefor? What did you talk about?† â€Å"About nothing,† Claudine said, exasperated â€Å"Justordinary conversation. Since you hate him so much,what difference does it make?† Then, as Mary Lynnette kept looking at her, she sighed. â€Å"He was very interested in weird facts about life in the country. All the local stories.† Mary-Lynnette snorted. â€Å"Did you tell him about Sasquatch?† â€Å"I told him about Vic and Todd.† Mary-Lynnette froze. â€Å"You're jolting Why?†Ã¢â‚¬ËœBecause that's the kind of thing he asked about! People lost in time-â€Å" ?Losing time.,? â€Å"Whatever. We were just having a nice conversation. He was a nice boy. Finis. â€Å" Mary-Lynnette's heart was beating fast. She was right. She was sure of it now. Todd and Vicwereconnected to whatever had happened with the sisters and Mrs. B. But what was the connection? I'm going to go and find out, she thought.

Fremont High School Discussion Essay

While I might have complained about the lack of an AP class that I was interested in, I was again reminded of my luck when Mireya discussed her interest in simply wanting â€Å"†¦ to take an AP class† (Kozol 645). What was even more disturbing to picture was how the school’s lack of proper funding caused students to be pressured into enrolling in non-academic classes, such as sewing and hair-dressing II. Finally, the sadness in that classroom was brought to a climax when I could both see and feel the â€Å"programing† within the students’ minds. When Mireya was talking about her reluctance to take the sewing class, a boy named Fortino said, â€Å"You’re ghetto†¦ so we send you o the factory†¦ you’re ghetto – so you sew! † (Kozol 645). Even though he was probably speaking sarcastically out of his own frustrations, Fortino’s words cut deep. I am aware that there are better and worse high schools out there than Fremont High School. And yet, reading Kozol’s account of the terrible conditions that are endured by these students made me feel more aware of the severity of improper or inadequate education that poorly funded schools provide. All of these problems, alongside my awareness of my fortunate years of education, make me wonder, just as Mireya did, as to why, â€Å"†¦ [students] who need it so much more get so much less? † (Kozol 648).

America’s War on Drugs vs. Legalization Essay - 3396 Words

America’s War on Drugs vs. Legalization The United States has spent over 30 years fighting the war on drugs. Americans have paid a heavy price financially. The drug enforcement budget is now $40 billion. A lot of time, effort, and money go into America’s attempt in eliminating trafficking, dealing, and the use of illegal drugs. Many believe that this is a war worth fighting, while others feel that America will never conquer the war on drugs. The latter suggest legalization as an alternative plan that will help save the country millions of dollars. In this paper, I will examine the history of the drug war as well as the arguments for and against fighting the war on drugs. Illegal drug use in America dates back to the†¦show more content†¦They were given the drug without knowing what they were taking. In fact, addictions to morphine were largely due to lack of knowledge on the drug. The addiction was the result of accidental use and insufficient information on its effects. Drug addictions were increasing and something had to be done to help the situation. The Pure Food and Drug Act of 1906 was the single most effective law passed to help alleviate the effects of improper drug use. The Act accomplished three things: 1) It created the Food and Drug Administration in Washington that must approve all foods and drugs meant for human consumption. The very first impact of that was that the patent medicines were not approved for human consumption once they were tested. 2) The Pure Food and Drug Act said that certain drugs could only be sold on prescription. 3) The Pure Food and Drug Act requires that any drug that can be potentially habit- forming say so on its label. Warning -- May be habit forming. These three requirements on drug use and distribution greatly decreased the amount of people that formed accidental addictions. The Act continues to stand as the law that made the most impact on the drug addiction population. 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