Word: painters
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...that the English and French members of the jury had oversold their favorites. Morandi, who specializes in painting bottles, was a disarmingly quiet candidate, and his countrymen are inclined to be as modest about their moderns as they are proud of their old masters. More important: no still-life painter now working has a subtler talent for arrangement, texture and tone. Morandi's still lifes carry forward the great traditions of Cézanne...
When the butter ran out, Manolo readjusted to poverty. One story has it that he actually pinched a painting from the Louvre, and Picasso returned it to the police. Another time, invited to live with Painter Paco Durio, Manolo took advantage of his friend's absence to sell off Durio's Gauguin collection. "When circumstances became more favorable," explained Manolo in later years, "I stopped doing inelegant things forever. I never thought to steal after...
Died. Ch'ih Pai-shih, 97, China's best-known contemporary painter, who took up art as a hobby while working as a carpenter, gained worldwide fame in the '20s, sold his work on commission and by the square foot (price range: 50?-$2), and often signed his paintings with odd names: The Old Vagabond, The Disciple of Lu Pan (god of carpenters), The Old Man of the Apricot Orchard; in Peking. Living with 30 relatives (he supported about 50) in a rambling house, Ch'ih painted chicks, crickets, shrimp and crabs, occasionally a landscape ("Only...
...Edmund Castell Bacon's stately English home, Raveningham Hall, in Norwich, for as long as anyone could remember, one painting, St. Jerome in Penitence Before a Crucifix, attributed to Giovanni Francesco Caroto, a minor Veronese painter, had hung in the library. Sir Edmund liked it so well he moved it to his bedroom, away from the rest of the fine collection of Gains-boroughs, Reynolds, Turners and 17th century Dutch painters. "I often paused on my way to bed to admire it," recalls Sir Edmund. "I always regarded it as a most beautiful picture...
...long chronicle of success seems nourished still by the selfish vitality of the black-bearded boatman. In the end even the friendly painter of this purple-tinted prose portrait almost admits that Richard King was, after all, a magnificent old s.o.b. "The ranch on the Santa Gertrudis could not have been wrested from the Wild Horse Desert by a courtly display of pleasant intention," says Author Tom Lea. "It was rough. It was no less honorable. It demanded a rough and honorable...