Word: miro
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...young daughter of a Secret Police detective had cracked the murder plot. Her boy friend, she told her father, had smuggled back from Guatemala a submachine gun, of the type that killed Remón. Prosecuting Attorney Francisco Alvarado arrested the youth. The boy named Lawyer Ruben Miro, who had paid him $150 for the weapon. Miró confessed that he had killed Remón and three of his friends who were having a postrace party in the presidential box (TIME...
...militant, straight backed chairs, have attracted many notables. Genevieve remembers William Faulkner, who used to eat lunch in the same corner every day, as "a small man, sharp blue eyes and a moustache. He seemed to be watching for something and always ordered Coq au Vin."Thornton Wilder and Miro frequented the restaurant, but neither made the impression on Genevieve that Louis Jouvet did, in a single visit. He came to Henri IV early one evening, out of temper and unwilling to talk. With some escargots and two bottles of Chateauncuf du pape all this changed. He stayed until four...
...Blow reports especially encouraging sales in Texas: "People from Texas are crazy about designs of pistols and playing cards." With his current exhibit almost sold out, Blow has already commissioned designs from Italian Painters Giorgio de Chirico and Massimo Campigli, is hoping to interest Picasso, Braque and Miro. "Intarsia may be a minor art," says bluff Dick Blow, "but hell, it's better to turn out a good piece of minor art than a bad piece of major...
Fogg Art Museum announced yesterday that it had sold all its prints of the Miro Mural. Officials agreed that the 2 copies went in a surprisingly short time...
...considerably disturbed by the suggestion in Tuesday's CRIMSON, that the mural by Joan Miro now in the Graduate Centre, represents phallicism and obscenity alone. The dispute strikes very close to home, in fact, since a reproduction of the mural is now hanging above my desk, and may, without my knowledge, have been giving intolerable offense to the ladies who come to empty my ashtrays...