Some depictions, like Henri Jean Guillaume Martin's "The Silence," eschew class signifiers altogether, depicting a ghostly beauty donning a crown of thorns, seemingly outside of the real world and its economic gripes altogether.
Many composers have been inspired by nature, resulting in famous aural depictions like Strauss's "Alpine Symphony".
The process differs from some popular depictions, like a recent Dove advertising video in which a forensic artist draws only from oral descriptions.
Even bleaker depictions, like David Mamet's, get us to admire the dexterity with which con artists persuade people to part with their money.
There's no "life" in there, no secrets, no pain, no childhood: nothing for him or anybody else to uncover, only depictions inside of depictions, like nesting dolls or facing mirrors.
Early American depictions, like Howard Hawks's "Air Force" (1943), emphasized the melting-pot fraternity of American forces more than the specific politics of our enemies (or for that matter of an ally, Russia).
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As Hollywood continues to tell the stories of those who have served, deployed, and returned home, depictions like these help bridge the civilian-military divide.
The gradual attrition of jobs that paid a decent wage rendered Baltimore particularly vulnerable to the drug trade, which has become almost synonymous with the city thanks to media depictions like HBO's "The Wire".
Most recently, films like Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" and television depictions like the History Channel's "The Bible" mini-series, timed to culminate on Easter Sunday by depicting the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, have given Holy Week observers an audio-visual means to remember these accounts essential to their faith.
