Rarely has the first meeting between white folks and Native people been as richly visualized as it is in Terrance Malick's The New World (2005), when, in the middle of a tall-grass field, an Englishman named Capt. John Smith meets the Powhatan princess Pocahontas. Not only did neither know either, neither had ever seen anything quite like each other either. They stand and stare in awe. Both of them.
Okay, at least the man in the ditch in the famous New Testament parable, put upon by robbers, says the gospel of Luke, wasn't alone. What passed along the road above as he lay there was hardly a freeway, but at least there were passers-by, even if neither of the first two paid him the time of day in his suffering.
But the third one helped the guy out and up. What I'm saying is, at least the poor guy in the ditch wasn't alone.
Ally Karsyn checks in with an emerging artist who will be showing his work at ArtSplash for the first time this year. This 43-year-old Sioux City painter has returned to the soundtrack of his youth, showing it’s never too late to follow your dreams.
Michael Frizzell used to need weeks or months to finish a painting, but now, in just 90 minutes, he has a painting of Biggie Smalls almost done.
To call it a “rogue’s gallery” just might be understatement.
But first, let’s admit that distinguishing history from myth or legend is not only difficult but impossible, witnesses long gone, histories copywrited years ago. So exactly how evil these bad guys were is answerable, truthfully, only by saying they were inspiringly bad.
We visited Stratford-upon-Avon, toured Shakespeare's house and watched the Royal Shakespeare Company perform Julius Caesar in the Royal Shakespearean Theater. I vaguely remember the grave of Jane Austin, but Piccadilly Circus is gone completely.
For reasons I can't explain, nothing in jolly old England left as hearty an impression as the bombed-out hulk of Coventry Cathedral. For a moment, the Battle of Britain was more than a grainy newsreel or a whole album of old black-and-whites.