Word: cot
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...provincial beginnings often confer a certain intensity on painters. The eye becomes obsessive, prehensile. Sanchez Cotán was a cloistered monk who never went outside Spain-but his Bodegon of vegetables (see color overleaf) is one of the most remarkable still-lifes ever painted. Each form-the ribbed curves of the cardoon stalks, the fleshy convolutions of the hanging cabbage, the ragged lace of the lettuce-is rendered with breathtaking economy. The picture is a lesson in ideal vegetarian geometry, with the slice of lemon and the slender cones of carrots occupying space like Renaissance mathematical models...
...They are paper architecture inhabiting imaginary space. How, one wonders, could they prepare a student for design in the real world? Yet they did, for the "real world" of 19th century French architecture was very different from today's. To us, architecture means anything built, from a cot tage to a town. But in France, l'architecture was the design of large public buildings, usually erected by the state...
...garden. In the center of the room, where it belongs as a major bone of contention, is a large double bed. I am reminded of the blooper committed by a TV announcer promoting the showing of the play's film version: "See Elizabeth Taylor and Paul Newman in a Cot on a Hot Tin Roof." No, it's got to be a double...
...school itself is coming under attack. Leftists complain, with some justification, that the E.N.A. has fostered the same sort of elitism that De Gaulle wanted to break down since many of the applicants tend to be the bright, ambitious offspring of the well-to-do. Thus Jean-Pierre Cot, a leading Socialist, sees the school's success not as a triumph of excellence but "of a certain political class which has come out of a little, lofty fraction of the bourgeoisie...
...hours, but many shells fell harmlessly into the leafy parks of the city. At 5:10 in the morning, a storm of fire began: red tracers flashed past the windows of the town hall, and a few mortar rounds landed in the compound. The soldier in the next cot jumped up: "Time to get up," he said. "It's their alarm clock. It happens every morning. After two hours they take a break and then give it another go later." Indeed the firing stopped by 7 o'clock. Walking along the streets of the city, I heard...