Word: feets
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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PIETER BRUEGEL was a lowbrow in art. In an age when the Italian Renaissance was sweeping all before it, Bruegel kept his Dutch feet firmly on lowland ground, stuck close to everyman's taste. His zestful love of practical jokes, wise saws, old proverbs and the daily life in field and village earned him the nickname of "Peasant" Bruegel. But history has proved that Bruegel was dealing with an eternal response of man that lies deeper than the shift and change of artistic fashion. Collected by princes and merchants alike, he has remained one of the most popular artists...
...Minister. I elbowed my way in like a diplomat and began working with two cameras strung around my neck. Good-humoredly ignoring the listening, watching press, he seemed calm and in good temper as he surveyed the crowd, shook hands with the incoming Japanese ambassador. I stood only three feet from him, clicking away, looking for a flicker of a beady eye or something revealing, finding him really rather gold-toothed, charming, but thinking, "I'll bet he's seen some things." With all the cameras present I don't know why he singled...
Aramburu clapped on his bubble helmet and oxygen mask, and the plane climbed quickly to 26,000 feet. Somewhere around 700 m.p.h. the jet banged through the sound barrier, soon hit 800 m.p.h. Twenty-five minutes after takeoff, the President was back on the ground. How did he like it? "Fantastic," said Aramburu. "There's something about it you cannot explain." According to Air Force officials, Aramburu was the first chief of state ever to break the sound barrier...
...pleasant tuning-up hum of the Philharmonia Orchestra faded away and a hush fell over London's Royal Festival Hall. A tall, slightly stooped figure in a frock coat emerged from behind a yellow curtain. Feet dragging, he made his way to the podium with the help of a heavy walking stick. As the applause thundered down, the man's solemn, craggy face remained expressionless and unseeing as a blind man's. Otto Klemperer, 72, painfully mounted the podium, planted his feet firmly apart, and gave the downbeat for Beethoven's Ninth Symphony...
...before orchestras, he showed his old relentless temperament. One day, while conducting Don Giovanni in Cologne, he was so moved at the crash of trombone chords announcing the arrival of the statue for dinner with the Don that Klemperer spontaneously stood up and once again began conducting from his feet. He does not use a baton, and when a musician once complained about it, Klemperer shouted, "I cannot hold a baton. Nor could you if you had had a brain tumor...