Nighthawk

Not the band. Not the bird. Not the internet router. Not the movie. Not the roller coaster. Not the gun company. What already? Nighthawks is the title of a painting by Edward Hopper. …

Liberal Arts Blog — Friday is the Joy of Art, Architecture, Design, Film, and All Things Visual Day Today’s Topic: Edward Hopper (1882–1965) “Night Hawks,” “Chop Suey, “Office At Night” I love Edward Hopper. Ever since the moment I first saw “Nighthawks” at the Art Institute of Chicago in 1982…

The sun has dropped behind the edge of the hills to the west. It’s not dark enough yet for the night hawk or the poorwill. An occasional wasp or dragon fly will move through the sultry thick air. Still not a hint of a breeze. The only things moving are…

From Tree of Knowledge to Rhizomic Networks of Knowing. Panopticon & Nighthawks Jeremy Bentham’s panopticon conjures up images of centralized social control. Or rather proposes, a mechanism for implementing it. Imagine a prison complex designed as a bicycle wheel minus the spokes. A prison guard is stationed in a tower that is located…

Nighthawks are a bird no one knows about, though some might recognize their metallic squeak of a call. I used to stop my friends in mid conversation, “Hear that?! That’s a nighthawk,” As I scanned the sky. “A hawk?” They’d reply, looking around, seeing nothing. “Not a hawk, and they…

Nighthawks feels like the fulcrum point in Sly Stallone’s career. The movie arrived after Rocky II, but a year before First Blood, when the landscape of Stallone’s future career was murky. Here, Stallone does his best Serpico impression from a French Connection 3 script that Gene Hackman smartly passed on…

An American classic Location: Art Institute of Chicago Building Nighthawks by Edward Hopper is an American classic, which portrays people sitting in a downtown diner late at night. It is considered Hopper’s most famous painting, as well as one of the most recognizable in American art. Popular belief is that…

From “Nighthawks at the Mission”, published 2014. Auspicious Apparatus Press. I finally arrive, after what must’ve been a mile, to sit down on an old crumbling stone bench inside some empty temple lobby. Dark statues with knocked-off heads tower above me from every angle, it seems, and a fountain still…