This article from Telegraph.co.uk describes what sounds like an amazing
piece of police work if I ever heard of one.
Not exact matches
In the French Alps,
police working to recover remains from the crash site said they so far have recovered between 400 and 600
pieces of remains from the victims.
James Murdoch stated that News International had based its «push back» against new allegations on the combination
of three
pieces of evidence: that the Metropolitan
Police had closed their investigation, that the Crown Prosecution Service had closed their prosecution and that they had received written advice from their legal advisors Harbottle & Lewis, that there was nothing to suggest phone hacking was not the
work of one «rogue reporter»
working with private investigator Glenn Mulcaire.
Specifically, the
piece came a year after Depardon's
police film Faits divers (1982), and Rouch's questions are mainly dealing with the production
of Depardon's most recent
work.
The film is a strong, surprisingly uplifting
piece of work, some
of the scenes in which have stayed with me throughout the year, in particular a beautifully choreographed sequence in a
police station and a heartbreaking conversation between two characters late on.
As a
piece of cinematic commentary, however, this is by far the more cohesive
work — «these things live or die by the script» observes a local Irish reprobate /
police informant while watching a subpar porno that's all action and no plot.
As it happens, the Williams College Museum
of Art in Williamstown, Massachusetts, provided one fine example in the fall
of 2016 when it
worked with the guest curator Chaédria LaBouvier to present a show and programming around another Basquiat, a modestly sized
piece from a private collection titled The Death
of Michael Stewart (1983), named for the artist who was killed by New York
police officers the year it was made.
There are playful moments in all
of his
work, including the miniature lovers sheltering under beer bottle caps, as well as
pieces that make more
of an overt statement such as the vandalised
police riot vans.
The latter
work of a grieving woman shedding a collage
of tears is given close attention because
of its historical significance as a tribute
piece created in memory
of the black British teenager Stephen Lawrence, who was brutally murdered in 1993 and whose name later became synonymous with a public inquiry into the Metropolitan
Police's institutionally racist mishandling
of the case.
Given the fact that he hasn't shown any substantial amount
of work in the States for about two decades — aside from a few group shows, art fairs, and his inclusion in the famously identity - politics - focused 1993 Whitney Biennial, where he showed a series
of weapon - like wall sculptures (dealing with notions
of surveillance, the
police state, militarization) that were
pieced together with vintage gun parts, carved branches, and coyote bone among other sundry items — «At the Center
of the World» was a rare treat for countless artists, curators, and critics who could only follow Durham from afar while his
work continually appeared abroad at august venues like the Venice Biennale, Documenta, and galleries and museums across Europe and Latin America.
There are
works depicting
police brutality, American soldiers torturing a captured member
of the Viet Cong and a large
piece where JFK and Khrushchev point in an accusatory manner at each other as West faces off with East.
For Material, the artists brought an assortment
of their
work that includes two
police riot shields that Peláez tarted up with corporate branding, like a NASCAR uniform, and a square - meter floor
piece of faux - wood slats by Murcia, displayed like a Carl Andre, that has pricing set to fluctuate in proportion to the square - meter real - estate cost
of the space where it's displayed.
In Today's Toronto Star, Anna Martin writes about the Public
Works Protection Act and the sweeping powers given to
police under an obscure
piece of legislation.