Word: painters
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Died. Kate Macready Dickens Perugini, 89, last surviving daughter of Charles Dickens, known in her own right for her paintings of children; in London. She was married twice, first to Charles Alston Collins, brother of Novelist William Wilkie Collins; second to Painter Carlo Perugini of Italy. Aged 10, Kate Dickens taught her father a polka to dance with her at the birthday party of her brother Charles Dickens Jr. Author Dickens, many years after, specially insisted that the polka lessons ("my fondest memories") be included in his biography by John Forster...
...Lover Sirs: The "eyes'' have it. Some hundreds of years ago, Leonardo Da Vinci, who was an inventor, engineer, poet, sculptor, musician and painter-and therefore qualified to speak-had an argument with a poet on the streets of Florence, as to the relative strength of painting and poetry. That night, Da Vinci wrote in his journal the following paragraph: ''The eye giveth to man a more perfect knowledge than doth the ear. That which is seen is more authentic than that which is heard. In verbal description there is but a series of separate images...
...gentleman referred to the New York Sun, which was obtaining a telephonic interview, and to George Romney, the 18th Century English cabinet-maker's son who achieved the niceties of Cavendish Square and rivaled Sir Joshua Reynolds as London's favorite painter. Naturally, the Sun had heard of Artist Romney, and quite as naturally of hell's-bellsing Lawrence P. Fisher. The latter is president of Cadillac Motor Co. and next-to-youngest of the six Fisher Brothers who rose from their father's Ohio blacksmithy to dominance in General Motors Corp...
...death of Mrs. Cardow, onetime dial painter for the Waterbury Clock Co., like the deaths and protracted illnesses of U.S. Radium Corp. scientists and minor employes (TIME, June 4, Nov. 26) is a social penalty for the public's demand to have night-luminous watches, clocks, gadgets...
Outside was the dark and curving Soho alley, with the foggy lights of a Singhalese restaurant, a French bookshop, a wig-maker's, an oyster bar. And the room was violently foreign, with frescoes by a sign painter−or a barn-painter: Isola Bella. Fiesole, Castel Sant' Angelo. But Sam did not look at them. He−who but once in his life had attended a Rotary lunch−looked at the Rotary wheel, and his smile was curiously timid. There was no reason for it apparent to him, but suddenly these banners made him feel that...